πετροστελος

May 9, 2012

Song to a house guest on the Atkins Diet

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 6:00 pm

(to the tune of Bread’s “Look What You’ve Done”)

You have taken the spam from me
And left just the bread for me,
And look, look, look what you’ve done.
Well, you took only meat from me,
So come get some carbs from me,
And look back, finish what you’ve begun.

It’s not right just to take our meat,
Your diet is incomplete.
Look, at what it’s become.
For it’s due to the lack of food
Your plate has become so crude.
Look back, finish what you’ve begun.

December 12, 2011

Quartus

Filed under: Meow,poetry — Petros @ 10:56 am


Our fourth-born kitten is Quartus.  I wrote this diddy because of his tendency to bite (to the tune of “What a friend we have in Jesus”):

What a friend we have in Quartus
Rubs his fur against our leg
All he wants is just some Qibble
Yes for that he’ll sqratch and beg.

Are you worqing on a thesis?
Quartus comes and bites our nose.
He won’t stop until he gets some,
If you feed him then he goes.

This is a rhyme in the style of Fezzick

One day Quartus left a little present,
Made the house smell not so pleasant.
Andrew protested he was innocent,
Quartus made his little deposit,
It was smelly like a piece of violet.
It’s aroma filled the room where we sit.

Leah lies longingly lullabying,
As she sits not silently singing
She visits our house and eats girl food.
And stares at the desk where Quartus pooed.

December 30, 2009

Whad'ya want? A medal?

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 2:24 pm

When I was but a lad and still little,
I would impress my dad with some small act,
And he would ask, “Whad’ya want? A medal?”
To that question I knew not how to react.

Then when digging in the backyard one day,
My father uncovered some rusted steel.
“Is that a metal?” I asked sans delay.
Dad’s bemusement was tangible to feel.

Your three poems are delightful and fun,
I would to you a medal deliver.
Not scrap rusting in the Alaskan sun,
But real ones of gold, bronze or silver.

(c) 2009 (Dec 30) Peter W. Dunn, a response to “Pet Poetry” by Gingham, Calico and Cindy.

November 3, 2009

Advice from a father to a divinity student

Filed under: poetry,theological education — Petros @ 6:37 am
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My son, I see you’ve finished in part
Your studies of the divine art.
It is called theological,
But don’t see it as magical.

My son, I heard it’s not easy.
Your faith will be queasy.
But it’s the Lord who will lead you,
When it’s Him, you’ll make it through.

My son, disregard the liberals,
Don’t consider them heros.
They will destroy the subject of dogmatics
And deform the science of hermeneutics.

My son, make sure to guard your heart.
Search the Bible from the start,
So that theology of a human bent,
Does not mask the divine scent.

My son, a servant of mighty degree
Doesn’t really have need of a PhD.
You should have a holy walk.
About which all the others talk.

My son, work off your ass,
And pay attention in class.
Your parish will be more demanding,
Its growth won’t be subsiding.

My son, once you’ve graduated,
And your brains have been sated,
Sort out what is now in your head,
And the church will be in good stead.

By Moussa Bongoyok, Translation by P. W. Dunn (November 3, 2009) from CONSEIL D’UN PÈRE À UN FUTUR THEOLOGIEN

June 10, 2009

What exactly do you mean by the color green?

Filed under: environoment,poetry,theology — Petros @ 6:15 am
Tags: ,

What exactly do you mean by the color green?
Is it a hue, a spectrum of light from the sun?
Or the religious practice of worshipping what is seen?
Which believes anthropogenic global-warming has won?

What have you said when you invoke the color red?
Is it the violence which sheds the life’s blood of some?
But what greater love than for a friend to have bled?
As in the semeion of God who spares not his true son.

Even what is seen as painful, mortal vaccine,
Eliminated deadly disease and lives preserved.
What gift of love of fish or bull or even swine
That provides protein to young or old undeserved!

Perhaps we want by vice to return to paradise,
By lifting our bootstraps or building a tower.
Eating no meat or hugging bears is not wise,
We won’t return to Eden by our own power.

A query for Moussa Bongoyok regarding his poem The real color of Love

May 20, 2009

For Cathy on the occasion of our twentieth anniversary: a very bad poem

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 3:10 pm
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To the woman I wed in 1989:
Our marriage improves with age like an old wine.
With our first twenty years now behind,
Ahead the best we are sure to find.

April 28, 2009

Good man, evil man

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 8:44 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

Good man, evil man

The good man defends family, country, liberty and life,
He stands up to protect both his children and his wife.

The evil man craves another’s lands, women, and wealth,
He will invade foreign places both openly and in stealth.

David and Saul were loved by God, and Sampson also,
They defeated the Philistines, a particularly aggressive foe.

God gave the sword to government powers not for ill,
But so that they would murders, invaders, and terrorists kill.

Peace will arrive not when arms we’ve dovishly relinquished,
But when Jesus returns and evil’s been utterly vanquished.

(c) 2009 P. W. Dunn

(A response to The Beauty of Peace)

March 23, 2009

Trop de Brebis

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 3:49 pm
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Trop de brebis ?

Pasteurs d’un millier de brebis, soyez inquiets.
Vous n’avez que le temps de savoir le bilan.
Et de serrer la main à la majorité
Des brebis qui sortent du temple avec élan.

Trop occupés pour causer, répondre aux questions,
Les réunions et les sermons à rédiger
Vous poussent à désirer une recréation
Où aucune brebis ne peut vous déranger.

Mes brebis sont folles, mes agneaux indolents.
Ils ne me comprennent pas. Ils ne m’aiment pas.
Comment ai-je pris ce métier ? Suis-je dément ?
Chacun veut me connaître. Je ne le veux pas.

Arrêtez donc ! Jésus nous montre son exemple.
Il a sacrifié sa vie pour ses amis.
Le Père lui a confié chaque disciple.
Et à la fin il comptera chaque brebis.

Jésus était aussi un berger de renom,
Mais il a refusé le tourbillon pervers.
Il n’avait que douze agneaux connus par leurs noms.
Avec eux, Jésus a transformé l’univers.

© Peter Wallace Dunn
Traduit et adapté par Moussa Bongoyok

English

Too many sheep

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 3:37 pm
Tags: ,

Too many sheep?

Pastors of a thousand sheep, Be nervous!
For you’ve only time to know just a score,
Most get a handshake ending the service
And a “good-bye” as they walk out the door.

Too busy to call or answer questions,
With meetings to chair and sermons to write,
You wait with eager anticipation,
For a breather when no sheep is in sight.

My sheep are stupid. My lambs are lazy.
They don’t understand me. They’re not my friends
How did I get this job? Am I crazy?
They each want to know me. When will it end?

But stop! Jesus shows us his example,
When he sacrificed his life for his friends.
The Father gave to him each disciple,
And He’ll count each of His sheep at the end.

Jesus was too a shepherd. All the same,
He refused to get caught up in the swirl.
He had just twelve lambs whom he called by name.
With them alone Jesus transformed the world.

©2001 Peter Wallace Dunn

For Britta

March 14, 2009

Joyous even in crisis, by Moussa Bongoyok

Filed under: poetry — Petros @ 7:50 am
Tags: ,

Joyous even in crisis

The planet earth is movement
And its forests mourn for their trees.
No one can console the firmament
Which chants macabre songs without cease.
But despite the gravity of the crisis,
The Christian’s joy meets no surprises.
The Lord renews our faith at will,
For he yet commands the sea, “Be still!”

The world in flames seeks after peace.
Homes are doused with so many tears.
Somber death strikes without cease.
Life on earth has become so fierce.
The Christian’s joy disturbs the lamentation,
But that should cause no great consternation.
For the Lord Jesus is the Almighty;
He knows how to turn back the tsunami.

Jet airliners crash down from the sky.
AIDS is here and millions must die.
The heavens are torn by missiles,
And the earth shakes from anti-missiles.
But the Christian rejoices in spirit
In this environment so livid.
Jesus himself is our security
In the country as in the city.

The financial forecast is not pristine,
The political climate is morose.
The law favors the libertine.
Lots of people seem very nervous.
But the Christian’s joy is ecstatic,
Because our hope is not erratic
But rests on God, who can transform
And restore even what others deform.

by Moussa Bongoyok from the French, “Joyeux malgré la crise“, trans. by P. W. Dunn. (c) 2002 All rights reserved.

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