2025 NaPM 8 April

[RiverNotch]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.


This year, there are no form requirements, only "tiers" or "rankings" given informally to all participants:

Bronze Tier: Participate at least once.

Silver Tier: Participate all days.

Gold Tier: Participate all days, and have all entries be the same form or have all entries be different forms.


Write a poem involving ecclesiastical or divine authority.

[busker]

It behoves me to write of virtue,
said Spenser, and so say I.
With the economy a boomer chew
toy, ‘tis time for the west to die

and make way for the son-of-heaven-wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly.
I mean Xi and his minions
Who brook no opinions
to the contrary. Always grumpy
Very Trumpy.

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie.
Farewell, Trump and Jesus,
Keynes and Friedman came to die
once more, with Ludwig Mises,
courtesy a rhesus
macaque man. Who has a plan.
Damn.

[Mark A Becker]

Epiphany at 12

While on my way to church
I was always tempted
to wander by the creek
to scare up the green snakes.

But I always worried
that I’d have Hell to pay,
I didn’t want trouble
so I went on my way…

Then I sat in pews choked
by unholy perfume,
tried my best to believe
You could be in that room.

Not even Our Father
could save me Hail Mary!
I forgot half the words,
and heard Hell was scary.

I was praying that You
were well rested that day,
I hoped that You’d listen
to the way that I prayed.

I tried hard to believe,
and I thought we should speak,
went to meet after church
down the hill, by the creek…


But a young girl was there
sitting at the creek bed-
my prayers were answered
by an angel instead.



[FORM: syllabic, rhyming]

[dukealien]

Divine Foundation


Note, beneath each grubby case
of priestly self-aggrandizement,
of simony, indulgence-selling,
living well while jihad-preaching,

lies a faithful, heart-felt base
informed by self-admonishment
to do good works, devoutly dwelling
in a holy light and teaching.


[Form:  Rhymed quatrains]

[depressedmetalhead]

The savior of
the poor and the meek
fights and dies for all,
loves and cares for
everyone!
Yet as I stand before
Him, my great creator
His answer to my cries
and pleas for help
is silence.
Is he really a savior
when a child
can lose all hope,
turn to Him once again,
then receive no love
and still hear no voice?

[carahmellow]

In the depths where shadows swell,
screams bubble;
prepare to plead,
gear up to grovel.
Desperation drags them
from melancholic rest
to set them free,
shred through your chest,
through skies and heavens,
carried by breath,
to beg the silence
to whisper,
not echo back
desperate desires,
disguised as revelations.

[RiverNotch]

After Paradiso VI.


Leaves on the course of falling start as gold
and only on the earth do they turn brown.
Before the Pope were Emperors of Rome;
before them still were Kings by Judges crowned.

Each Bishop sits as King upon his throne,
while Emperors, with Judges, take a stand.
The Eagle which from West to East had flown
departed from this earth, by God's command,

when Golden Lilies plundered his New Roost,
themselves by an assumptive Pope induced
and by a greedy Emperor seduced.

Yet, in the East, no vain hope to restore
our lost Imperial Dignity is core:
O West, were you so true with your reforms!

[brynmawr1]

Divine Authority

I lost it recently;
my left thumb;
the use I mean.

I mean it's hard
after I take a pee
or a crap; frankly

I've been frightened,
alone, unable one handed
in an airport bathroom

to create the tension
using only index and middle fingers
(I admit, my gut isn't helping)

to bring button to hole,
but don't worry
eventually I'll get it.

[rowens]

The Bull in the Field of Thought


Sacred sphinx of mystery 
your empty Throne of Causality 
tempts me 
will the will unchain me? 
prevent me?
elaborate

others to the point of care?

that hardshelled rider
cast in shade like a windmill churning the expenses of modernity
catalogues a caution

horned sitter
your scepter is a Thing

A Winged Egg uncracked by my virginlover

can time change or is change
the situation?
the hermeneutic?

the hermit in its grade

[dukealien]

The Bull in the Field of Thought


Sacred sphinx of mystery 
your empty Throne of Causality 
tempts me 
will the will unchain me? 
prevent me?
elaborate

others to the point of care?

that hardshelled rider
cast in shade like a windmill churning the expenses of modernity
catalogues a caution

horned sitter
your scepter is a Thing

A Winged Egg uncracked by my virginlover

can time change or is change
the situation?
the hermeneutic?

the hermit in its grade

Gorgeous.  Loved references to Don Quixote and the Golden Snitch, and regret those missed through ignorance.