Poetry Place

Unholy Times
K Kotun copyright 1989

I hear the bells chime from the church;
Alas it is a Sunday!
"But where right now is the congregation?"
I hear the Pastor say.
"No frilly hats, no neat Sunday wears,
no choir do I hear.
It seems my good people have forgotten
or just don't seem to care."

I stand and look around me now;
a sham is this generation.
History it is to stick to a vow;
no more need for consecration.
The choir sing, but their voices low;
as they are but a few.
The offering bags are almost bare,
and lonely is every pew.

I fear for them, I cannot tell,
what will happen in times to come.
For if right now, they choose to ignore;
they'll probably never succumb.
It's only right to let them know
the service will make things better;
because in the course of life they'll stride
a path of stormy weather.