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Friday, 25 October 2013

A Prayer

My father, thou who art up there,
I hope you hear my humble prayer.
My congregation is upset;
They say I’ve got to pay my debt.

I want my Heaven here on Earth;
That’s why I’ve served you since my birth.
I’ve built myself a fancy home
That doesn’t please the guy in Rome.

But think about it, dearest Dad,
There’s reason for you to be glad,
For every good and loyal son
Undoubtedly deserves some fun.

I’ve sacrificed so much for you:
A woman I may not pursue.
Since I may never have a spouse,
My compensation is this house.

So, let me keep my gilded doors,
My jewels and my chest of drawers,
My sauna, bathtub and my wine,
The table where I sit and dine.

I know they’re not the cheapest kind;
My taste is said to be refined.
IKEA simply ain’t my thing,
Your son, the bishop, nicknamed Bling.

Vatican suspends Bishop of Bling.
© Vala Hafstad
Vala Hafstad lives in Iceland.  She finds inspiration for her poems in strange news.

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