A poem by me, Richard Harries, aged 83 and three quarters.
The Invisible Magic Friend made us, not the virus.
The End.
Thank you.
A poem by me, Richard Harries, aged 83 and three quarters.
The Invisible Magic Friend made us, not the virus.
The End.
Thank you.
Poet Harries bemoans the lack of contact with us physical beings (because face-to-face contact is better than virtual) yet his ideal entity is invisible & immaterial.
Churches have spent centuries telling us that our bodies are filthy so we should aspire to the ‘spiritual’ because it’s, er, better & closer to the Invisible Magic Friend. This is why plagues could be shrugged off as merely the death of our unimportant, physical bodies.
Sometimes these believers forget what’s written in their ‘party manifesto’. Come on, Harries, get your story straight!
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Just in case you missed the poem here it is
In lockdown phoning, Skyping, sending emails
We exalt how good it is to live in a digital age
To keep in touch like this is what Covid entails
And we’re so lucky, so smart with our digital stage
Then out on the walk that we take for our ague
What a pleasure to stop with friends for a chat
People for real to see in the flesh and engage
Their faces aglow with being an actual fact
Their bodies alive with where they are at
And who they are here not a photo or phantom
Yes, dust breathed into shape and to dust returning flat
But for now living, breathing and talking in tandem
We are made to see and hear to touch and taste and feel
God made us embodied not an image or pixel, but real.
I feel Richard hits the spot here with the problem for all religions as when he says “Faces aglow with being an actual fact, their bodies alive with where they are at, And who they are here not a photo or phantom” he is explaining the joy of being human which we can all feel without any requirement for a paranormal or superstitious explanation. He has the same belief as Giles the other day that at some imprecise time in the past god “breathed” life (by which I think he means a soul) into homo sapiens (or possibly homo erectus or earlier versions). If he could explain to us at what point in the evolution of mankind this theological “fact” occurred it would be very useful.
You don’t need the phantom of god to feel alive and love it Richard.
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Hmm 14 lines with an ABABCDCDEFEFGG rhyming scheme…
methinks the bish has pretensions towards Shakespearean sonnets.
Give it a while and AAA will be quoting it 🙂
Great limerick from you all
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” There was an old Bishop called ‘Harries'”
Complete the limerick. You are not allowed to use ,” disappeared up his aris’ in the final line.
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“Who wanted to go to Paris”
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“At the Folies Bergère”
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“He did nothing but stare”
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“He’s a Bishop you cannot embarrass”
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Nice work.
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Nicely done, StephenJP.
I had…
Thinking “it’s like a party at Lambeth Palace.”
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As ” Bogbrush” says in Private Eye, ” Great stuff guys.”
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