The ServantA Poem by Brandon HouserOne from the notebook. Years ago I was in a church and suddenly became upset by the political atmosphere. And the marketplace outside the chapel made it worse. So I penned this.
The servant he came
And the servant withdrew To blend in with the crowd And speak for the few Who were lost in the race And fighting for space While the tides he did turn In the end he was spurned The servant he spoke With a grace and a wit He shot from the heart He shot from the hip While the powers that be From his words they did flee Though he gave them a glance They never gave him a chance The servant arrived To put an end to the hate Who would have known It would lead to his fate While the crooked still judge And the world holds a grudge On the sinners and saints Not the heartless who taint The servant he built A house on a rock And we are the ones Splitting up the block Does it now lay in ruins What are we doing Do we add to his art Or just tear it apart Now the servant he watches Over life's little game He belongs to the meek The sick and the lame Who are we to contest Suggest or protest Or even lay claim To the love of his name © 2026 Brandon HouserFeatured Review
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4 Reviews Added on April 5, 2026 Last Updated on April 5, 2026 AuthorBrandon HouserKYAboutNot sure what to add here. I have been writing poems since I was 16. Saved much of it, lost some of it. I'm 51 now. Lately I have felt a need to get my voice out there. I guess like a lot of .. more.. |

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