Poems in English about Mullah/ Akhond/ Clergy/ Preacher


“Mullahs are despotic,
They rule with iron hand
Poor afflicted maids in Iran;
Mullahs exude, leak and ooze pestilence!
Ladies! – do not marry Mullahs!
You may come to regret
To be wed to Mullahs,
Mullahs want you to wear
Heavy veils and burquas,
They hide their wives behind stiff shrouds,
But burquas are so very cumbersome,
So keep your distance from Mullahs!
keep mullahs at arm’s length,
Those morons, the Mullahs”: Blumentopf

“I took some time to figure it out
What all your lies and Imams were about
You lied to my face for years and years
Your Akhond stories filled my ears
I couldn’t see, so you forced me to believe
I wasted my life, with your smile and deceit
Now I know better – so I’m a bad man?
You’re full of Shiite, death to your clan”: Anonymous

The Country Clergy
“I see them working in old rectories
By the sun’s light, by candlelight,
Venerable men, their black cloth
A little dusty, a little green
With holy mildew. And yet their skulls,
Ripening over so many prayers,
Toppled into the same grave
With oafs and yokels. They left no books,
Memorial to their lonely thought
In grey parishes; rather they wrote
On men’s hearts and in the minds
Of young children sublime words
Too soon forgotten. God in his time
Or out of time will correct this”: Ronald Stuart Thomas

“The Preacher: He preached upon <breadth> till it argued him narrow
The broad are too broad to define
And of <truth> until it proclaimed him a liar
The truth never flaunted a sign
Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
As gold the pyrites would shun
What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
To meet so enabled a man”: Emily Dickinson

“On the pulpit, preachers, goodness display
Yet in private, they have a different way.
I have a question to ask of the learned in our midst
Why Confession-Priests, their own repentance delay.
Perhaps they don’t believe in Judgement Day
They deceive, and to appease God, they pray.
May these New Masters, God, find their stay
And from slaves and mules not turn away.
Church-beggar, go to the abode of the Magi
Drink the water that strength of heart convey.
His endless goodness, many lovers slay
Lovers from the void, rise up and play.
In Love’s Tavern, the Angelic array,
Ferment our soul’s grape, knead our clay.
Heavenly music at break of the day
As if Angels sing Hafiz’s songs, and sway”: Hafez Shirazi (English Translation by Shahriar Shahriari)

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