Another day in the warehouse
On the nightshift
Moving around pallets with my forklift
I don’t know why people
Buy from this place
It’s overpriced and really a waste
It provides my salary, so I shouldn’t complain
So, from saying so publicly, I’ll refrain
Padre
No incantation can achieve the same
No mere words
Can cast a spell greater than your compassionate smile
The magic found there is natural and pure
Without the trickery of the wordsmith’s game
Bewitched, enchanted I am transformed
By your simple, gentle, natural grace
Padre
What is this on the paper I read?
Ancient papyrus was crafted from reed
Scrolls from Qumran’s wadi from vellum were made
Later old rags processed and flatly laid
Wood pulp next seemed the thing to write on
Substance, not mere pixels – easily gone
Padre
I, a bit peckish
Started to nibble
I didn’t want much
Just a little
Before I knew it
The biscuits were gone
Along with jam
And three jumbo scones
Just nibble I thought
Why should I care?
Somehow six pounds
Came from thin air
Padre
Spring’s labour’s come as we till the soil
And with purpose shall we sow our seed
And wait upon the coming of May’s sweet rain
To bring alive a world of green
And soon the bloom colours shall arrive
Bringing brightness as nature thrives
Padre
I can’t be bothered
I don’t really care
It’s your problem
There’s no need to share
I am not cold-hearted
But I’m still dismissive
Of the complaints you cited
In that five-page missive
Go deal with it on your own
And leave me alone
Padre
Be it a white clear,
A rose pink,
Or a deep purple red
As dark as ink
The grape has produced
Drinks deemed fine
Whether dubbed vino or wine
But as a Protestant quite fundamental
It’ll be for Concord grape juice
That I’ll settle
Padre
The bow cutting through the waves
Sails tightly trimmed – voyage time to be saved
The common log cast – our speed to take
The knots unwinding in our wake
A new harbour and liberty morn shall bring
With cargo unloaded we shall spend like kings
Padre
A snowbound road too slick to pass
Diversions and detours along the way.
How is it that life seems to stop,
Because it is a snowy day?
How can a flake so delicate,
Hold great machines at bay –
When it so easily melts away?
The perfect sandwich is an art you know
Start with bread made with sourdough
Find juicy roast beef nice and lean,
Some sautéed onions cooked to glossy sheen.
Now fresh tomato – slice oh so thin.
Add a dab of mayo – and it’s a win!
Padre's Ramblings 