Liar, I thought, kneeling with the others,
how can He love me and hate what I am?
The dome of St. Peter's shone yellowish
gold, like butter and eggs. My God, I prayed
anyhow, as if made in the image
and likeness and him. Nearby, a handsome
priest looked at me like a stone; I looked back,
not desiring to go it alone.
The college of cardinals wore punitive red.
The white spine waved to me from his white throne.
Being in a place not my own, much less
myself, I climbed out, a beast in a crib.
Somewhere a terrorist rolled a cigarette.
Reason, not faith, would change him.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (White Spine by Henri Cole )
(30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(12 May 1828 – 9 April 1882)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Christmas Carol, Sara Teasdale
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- A Question, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Ring Out , Wild Bells, Alfred Lord Tennyson
Poem of the Day
- Changing Positions, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Elevated Insight, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Teach them to love, Lubinda Lubinda
- Beyond The Ordinary, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- the comical dilemma with commas, Bull Hawking
- Hitler: A Life Immersed in Hypocrisy, Paul Hartal
- Creative Interests, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Villanelle: No curse worse than the plac.., T (no first name) Wignesan
- Sense Of Fulfillment, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- here workin' for hugs on Christmas eve, Bull Hawking