Of Sin

From the inspirational words derived from orders given to Frank. :D LOL

An elderly priest

sits on the dilapidated 

stair to his hovel

Contemplating once again

the stinger he delivered 

in his Sunday sermon.

An attempt to strike a note

of serious consideration of 

the consequences

of sinning to his

congregation.

And yet, as he leans with 

his gnarled hands upon his 

walking stick,

He can not help but

smile at the wicked joy 

he witnesses as a 

Drunken Santa Claus and

a skimpily clad prostitute

weave their way past

him down the 

cobbled lane.

Author's Note

Words given: Stinger. Santa Claus. Prostitute. Priest. Gnarled. Delapidated.

Thank you, Sir Frank. :)

Reviews

[idahostevens]

Ah judy, you do well. sometimes a smile is all that is left to do.

[The Analog Kid]

This is really awesome. You demonstrate the human side to the priest.

[Elephants & Coyotes]

Pieced together so fantastically!
And a very interesting point you've made.
= P

[Seashell]

haaaaa love it .... makes one think how common this is ;/
What do you mean 'words given' Judy?

Thanks for the laugh
Babs xx

[...]

brilliant! brilliant! brilliant!
(i can't stop laughing :P)

[Muse]

You rock! I found amusement in this poem maybe for all the wrong reasons. The things we dare not do ourselves, yet we'll sit back and be entertained to watch other participate in these guilty indulgences. :)

[FJ Davis]

Unquestionably impressive. This is a fascinating little poem with a compelling slice-of-life feel to it. Shockingly well done!
(Seems so much like real life. Santa, for example, having had his fill of milk and cookies is now obviously craving less wholesome treats. Bad Santa!)

[ice]

"wicked joys" are the most fun, even when you are not a priest.
I am trying to cut down on my wicked thoughts, and am succeding, I think, as I have not had a lewd thought, or an immoral urge in over five minutes, and that is good for me.... ;-)

Seriously though, I like the poem. You have used the words well...I like word prompts, they challenge the imagination...attest, this poem.