The Church, Heydon, Norfolk Poem by Roy Ballard
The Church, Heydon, Norfolk
The bats that soil this church
are cherished more than it is
for the old religion
has no value now nor power.
Like all the worthless waste
of long-abandoned cities,
religion is a smidgen
that did not last the hour.
They snatched away their living
from catechising pretties,
the bat and feral pigeon
in chancel and the tower.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: religion
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
New? There is nothing new under the sun. See Bede, A History of the English Church and People, II,13
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Poems By Roy Ernest Ballard
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4/26/2024 11:08:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
