Prosperity Preaching
Ravenous wolves in sheep's clothing
They mercilessly devour the weak,
With a polluted premise in their preaching
Their greedy pangs can make one sick.
With eloquent words they teach the doctrine,
That God's blessings ratios one is to ten,
This is a wrong motive for true giving,
That to those who give God makes wealthy men.
There was a preacher who came from Nigeria
He guested in church with his thunderous
dare:
'Give your one million, in two months I tell ya'
You'll be ten times richer beyond compare! '
Since we were then financially challenged
None of us stood but we felt some guilt,
Will the Lord give us His Divine revenge?
Or be angry we wallow in poverty's filth?
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A True Ghost Story
My grandfather's house at Maypajo
It was built in year nineteen o' five
Of the sturdy wood 'kamagong'
And for ninety long years it survived.
It had delicate capiz- shelled windows
And hard wooden planks for its floors
Wide beams on ceilings that show
Fine architecture and Spanish decor.
In the twenties it held various parties
And its rooms may have held many guests
My aunts and my Mom were real beauties
And I'm sure many gents laid their quests.
But the second World War had been deadly
The Japanese fired many a mortar
Its plastered walls bared testimony
To the ugly devastation of war.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Pastor's Letter
At twenty eight he had a ministry,
They said for him it was a prophecy.
Fired up, schooled, oh so brilliant,
Preached with an eloquence defiant.
After a year with the same congregation,
He met the lady that caught his attention.
Confused he was at the sudden attraction
But her eyes, they held his heart's condition.
The devil knew just where to strike him,
For he cunningly knows each man's whim.
Love filled the pastor's heart to the brim,
No one will ever know, or so it seems.
The lady, she was a delicate being,
At forty, her appeal like a magnet did bring
Unaware and naive at the hidden suffering
She was causing her young pastor, that poor thing.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Copied Titles/duplicated By Aldo Kraas Part Ii
Title stealer and copier
When will you learn Originality?
You are worst than a habitual lier
With your habit of duplicity!
Grow up in your literary woes
Shed off that weak inadequacy
Your constant copying just shows
A writer marked by hypocrisy
-
POEM / AUTHOR........................................... ...............COPIED TITLE/
AUTHOR
'April' by Ency Bearis 'April Song' by Kraas
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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