Hymn Poem by Jerry Pike
Hymn
Hymn
I want Jerusalem-
diced, cooked, and sung,
into that stirring, steaming verse,
from my church days.
I can do without,
too patriotic,
too hedonistic,
a scar on the hymn book.
If you want to sing it,
you want to sing it.
How does yesterday’s
blood swirling anthem,
become today’s cupboard fodder?
I shall phone some bishop and ask.
But he will probably
be out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/16/2026 3:01:06 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
