Pastor Seth – Poems and Musings


His high horse gallopin’, the rider was yellin’

Demands, accusations, horrible names, tellin’.

Yet “justified,” haughty, his rights he was claimin’,

He threw his mean lasso, his gun was a-shamin’.


Sin of entitlement is like hay to a horse.

It feeds our foul anger with nary a remorse.

All guns now a-blazin’, the tongue, a six-shooter,

“I must be true to me!” The tongue, a sharp-shooter.


But this, he won’t believe: a new Sheriff’s in town!

His mouth? Soon arrested! His heart calf-roped, thrown down.

As he sits in the jail, a new heart he will get!

You’ll see him ride the range, bringing peace at sunset.


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