The task is overwhelming,
So enormous is the scope,
There’s work enough for everyone;
We can’t sit back and hope.
Tending to the injured birds
And bagging up the dead;
So many tasks that must be done—
Why don’t we pray, instead?
We’ll hop inside our SUV’s
And drive them to the coast—
Once there, we’ll all join hands and pray
Where prayer is needed most.
We know the Lord works miracles,
And has our best at heart;
And maybe, if we show our faith
His holy work will start.
An hour or so of praying
Then we’ll get up off our knees,
And we’ll drive back to the parish
In our trusty SUV’s.
******
The things they need are numerous,
So here’s where we’ll begin:
This crisis is a test of faith,
So send the chaplains in!
The crisis is ongoing;
It can wear a body down–
It’s good in such emergencies
That chaplains are around.
(In fairness to the chaplains, they
Will only come when called;
They won’t impose themselves unasked,
Or I’d be more appalled.)
*****
Katrina was an Act of God,
But this, an act of man—
Believers, though, still claim it’s part
Of God’s Eternal Plan,
And know that there’s a purpose here
Whatever it may be;
Why God would want disaster
Is a mystery to me.
*****
With faith, and hope, and charity,
The churches do their best;
Of course, it’s people, never God,
Who answers their request;
Though thousands work, both day and night,
None here will find it odd
That people will, when all is done,
Collectively thank God.
(Though God alone, if God exists,
Had pow’r to intervene,
To stop the spill at any point
And change this tragic scene)
This God, it seems, is impotent–
It always has been thus–
For both prevention and for cure,
It’s always up to us.
w00t w00tI really dig your style, here. Good poetry with embedded links — and the angle on the subject. Erm… w00t? I'm not having a lot of luck expressing myself just now. :p
In the wetlands to my westWhere holy men do prayThese humble folk claim they know bestThat these are the ends of days.God said that water would turn to bloodRevelations does decree"Have you not seen Louisiana mud?The water there looks red to me.""Clearly our father, holy and pureLike Job, seeks us to testBesides prayer, is there nothing moreTo do than know that he knows best?"..I mightily enjoy your styleAnd indeed, have read them for a whileBut composing rhyme is hard for me(I am sure many would agree)And to me, to comment in plain verseWould in many ways be much worseThen simply reading with a silent smile.Please do excuse my horrid rhymeIt pales 'gains't yours comparedThough if I have some greater timeA better verse I may have prepared.
and this BLASPHEMOUS GARBAGE they call poetry…
Aw… DM, you care, you really do.I don't call it poetry–I call it verse.
Yeah, well I don't care what you call it, DC. I call it poetry!So there!
Okay, that's the best Mabuse comment I've seen yet! :D You the win, Cuttlefish! :D
Mmm…good one.If anyone desires to sing it, try any hymn tune with the 8.6.8.6 meter (such as "Amazing Grace").Or, "the yellow Rose of Texas" tune will work.These tunes, btw, also work for most of Emily Dickinson's poetry. Not that I would do this, y'understand…