Friday, 11 October 2019

Poem - The New Coat Hangers at Church




They have little in common with the Emperor's new clothes,

They aren't spun from gold and to see them is easy


Those special coat hangers you meet at the door

Disguised as a smile or hands that say 'Squeeze me!'


On such mystical fittings a garment is left

At first you may miss its habitual weave


Don't worry! Don't fear! Nobody will nick it!
You can put it back on (if you like) when you leave.


The garment's the ego; you won't need it here

The goddess bypasses its everyday spiel


Her language is simple, profound and sincere:

Your body will die, but your soul can be healed.


Tags: poems, spirit, psychology, goddess

3 comments :

  1. Good to be reading you again! There will be frost on the pumpkin here tonight. Then back to warmer temps for a bit.

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  2. I'm listed as unknown because the comment bar won't allow anything else. :/

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  3. Greetings! 🌈 The blog is set to allow comments, maybe you have to login to goooogle for your name to show? Frost! We've had 2 weeks rain in one day 😕 excuse the smilies - they show up in the feed at pjf.org.uk which pleases my simple mind

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comments welcome; spam is deleted :)