It was minuscule
Not at all big
I could easily have be hidden
By the leaf of a fig
Yet she made objection
An unholy fuss
Because some kid dropped a pretzel
Next to her seat on the bus
Padre
Minuscule
#FOWC
Sentenced
“. . . so it shall be,” the king declared.
“But Your Majesty,” the chancellor objected.
“There is no rebuttal. I have spoken,” the monarch snapped. “Take him away.”
So it was that Sir Hubert, chancellor of the realm, was sent to labour in the most despicable toils to be found in the kingdom. He had really brought it upon himself. He had time and again reduced the standard of living of the common folk of the land in favour of his own cronies’ interests. Now, he would have to live on the pay and conditions of the everyday man.
Padre
Aggrieved
The two sides could not agree
Management didn’t care that the workers were aggrieved
As long as the firm made the bottom-line
They believed that everything was “just fine”
What they failed to appreciate or to see
That there is no profit if the workforce is absentee
So the last word was that of “strike”
The labour equivalent of the drop of the mic
Padre
What Did We See?
Was it a trick of the light?
Or was something there?
The shadowy image
That gave us a scare
Was it a face in the window
that we did observe?
I should really go check,
but I don’t have the nerve
Padre
Historic
It was a moment historic
Dignitaries arriving a queen to proclaim
The moment proved quite hysteric
I really don’t know who’s to blame
For when the great and good were gathered
And it really was a shame
Someone had a misstep
And trod upon her train
This caused her to stumble
Not an auspicious start to a reign
Padre
Profession
King Alfor III had died two years before. His son had been off exploring far off lands, and had just recently returned to find out about his father’s demise. In his absence, the land had been watched over by an uneasy coalition of nobles, but rivalries had put Pandia at the brink of civil war. Now, perhaps, that could be averted and the country returned to its former greatness.
“Alfor will now make his profession, and be anointed our leader,” Halifin the Mage announced.
Eight thousand eager eyes locked onto the tall, slender man who now took to the platform.
“I, Alfor son of Alfor, do profess and declare that I am of true blood of the Pandian people, and rightful heir to Alfor, the son of Alfor, the son of Alfor.”
With that Halifin poured oil on the head of the man, and placed a bronze crown upon his head. “All hail Alfor the Fourth, Lord of Pandia.”
There was a mighty cheer from the crowd.
Alfor, or should I say Anfwin son of Orry, leaned over to the mage and whispered, “Can I have that sandwich you promised me, now?”
“Soon, Lord,” the new chief advisor said with a grin. “Soon.”
Padre
Show the Way
Jesus said, “The children hinder not”
For they too, God begot
Lead them early, show them the way
So they won’t easily be led astray
For the world’s temptations do abound
But a better way can surely be found
Avoiding things naughty
And sticking to what’s right
Shunning dark deeds
And living upright
Padre
Jejune
His views were simplistic
Really out of tune
They were in fact, quite jejune
Many said he was always “out to lunch”
In fact, he’d been there since yesterday’s brunch
Padre
“Baltic”
In England the weather is a subject topical
Be it a Beast From The East
Or something more tropical
Whether it’s raining, or sunny,
Or will do harm to monkeys of brass
We’ll discuss the weather
With those we do pass
Padre
The Copy
One cannot say it is but a copy
For the original was rather sloppy
With drips and smudges
And handwriting bad
But it was the only source he had
So, the monk did set to work
And from the challenge he did not shirk
After a month and another three days
He produced a copy that did amaze
With lettering clear – sharp and crisp
And his illuminations did not miss
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 