Have you heard the news? Have you been inspired to pen a poem in response? Send it to poetry24ed@gmail.com

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