Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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"It's Heaven Calling"

(Note: Christ’s words, and the wife’s words, are not in bold print)

Brrrrrr, brrrrrr…..brrrrrr, brrrrrr

“Hullo. Joe speaking.”  “Good morning. It’s Heaven calling, Mr. Broad.”
“Heaven?!”  “Yes. Are you prepared to receive a call from your Lord?”
“Ahh…..a call?”  “Yes. Hang on…..He’s on the line now.”  “Hullo, son.”
“Oh! Hullo Father.”  “Just a quick call, son, I’ve things to get done.”

“I’ll be calling in on you shortly?”  “Did You say…..shortly?!”
“Yes, my son. In about five minutes or so, actually.”
“Ahh…..ahh…..could You hold on a moment, Father? You’ve surprised me.”
[Covers phone]  “It’s God”  “Who?”  “God!”  “God???!”  “Yes!! He’s calling shortly.”

“You’re joking?!”  “No! I’m not joking! I could stall Him — shall I?”
“Yes! Yes! Tell Him to give us half an hour, and then call by.”
[Removes hand “Are You there?”  “Yes, son.”  “Could you give us half an hour, please?”
“Half an hour, you say?”  “Yes.”  “…..Okay….. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze.”

[Puts phone down]  “Quick! Hide the videos, imagine if He saw those?
And those things you’re wearing — they’re too revealing — change your clothes.
Switch the television off, even those ads aren’t okay,
And if He saw that book there I’d hate to think what He’d say.”

“Oh, hide those magazines too — I nearly overlooked them —
Those pictures and that gossip He would certainly condemn.
And better check each bedroom lest He sees things that’ll offend,
For there’re things in the kid’s rooms we’d have a job to defend.”

“Grab those computer games --  yes, those shoot-’em-up ones; In fact,
Grab the lot, and that BB gun — imagine how He’d react.
Better get those posters down, and bury those CDs too,
As He’d hardly approve of what our kids are listening to.”

“Don’t be too long — He’ll be here soon. Oh dear, don’t let Him see that.

“See what?”  “That junk food. You know how it makes one ill and fat.
He calls our body a temple, doesn’t He?”
  “Yes, and that’s not all,
He mentions lusts of the flesh, and worldliness — if I recall.”

“Uh-oh. Say, where’s our Bible?”  “I don’t know — somewhere I guess,
Obviously not where it should be, I have to confess.”
“Quickly then, we’d better find it, and then place it in view,
In case He refers to it, and asks a question or two.”


“Hey, lets put some music on, create the right atmosphere,
Something very tasteful, fitting, something He’d like to hear.
Something restful, uplifting, without the usual downbeat,
And if He stays for supper, go easy, don’t overeat.”

“Was that a knock?”  “Yes! Seems He’s arrived.”  “Oh dear — well, here goes;
I still can’t figure out why such a late hour He chose.
I wish we’d had more warning — I hate being caught out like this,
There’s always a chance, you know, that He’ll think something’s amiss.”

By Lance Landall



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