*IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT* Poetry24 is now taking a rest, with a view to reopening, possibly, in the New Year. A BIG thanks to you all for giving the project such enthusiastic support!

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

What Happens in Conclave Stays in Conclave

Dressed up, sealed in, the world excluded,
Princes of the Church, secluded;
I suppose they sit in chapel
arguing who's fit to grapple
with corruption, who can handle
uppity women, priestly scandal;
but God knows how they'll really pick
a Pope to follow Benedict.
Spin the chalice, pass the dalmatic
musical statues, hunt the relic,
pin the tail on the priceless fresco,
all-in combat roller-disco?
Or maybe they'll decide it's better
to go for the chap with the biggest biretta.
Eventually, they'll pick some bloke
and never let on what they smoke.

 © Gwen Seabourne
Hebog Tramor is a Professor at a UK University, researching medieval legal history and writing the odd poem.

No comments:

Post a Comment