The God Poems


by VassilisZambaras

“God on How to Get Rid of Warts and Other Disgusting Stigmata”

Toady one, do not sit and prattle—

Go wash your hands clean
In this, my blessed hollow

Oak tree trunk filled with holy
Heavenly piddle and pray you

Do not return to tattle.


“Lesson in Piety”

Observe, my child,

How when
Drinking water,

Even the lowly
Chicken will

Lift up its face
To face



“Lesson in Piety (2)”


Your heart is large
And needs not

Why the flower,
Once in bloom,

Will not wilt

Before you answer
Dear God,
There is no room.


“Checking into Eternity Inn”

Reservations? Rest
Assured, dearly

Beloved guests, just remember
As long as you stay

Alive, you’ll never be
Spoiled to death.


“Look Homeward, Angel”

Remember God?

When you were good,
He’d let you stay

Up all night and raise holy hell;
When you were bad,

He’d douse the lights, say
Farewell, put you under

A dank stairwell.

Zambaras Woodcut Icon

Meligalas, Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—7/11/11—I can almost hear some of my readers groaning, “Great—just what we need—more poems about God—doesn’t this guy know that God has been a favorite subject for poets for eons and nothing more can be said about Him that hasn’t been said before?” I’ll give the devil his due and admit that they do have a strong point there, but I just wanted to show that I, too, am capable of writing verse inspiring enough to be read out loud by anagnosts in front of poetic congregations clamoring for their share of immortality—keep the faith, brothers and sisters, redemption is just over the rainbow!


About Vassilis Zambaras

Vassilis Zambaras According to such reliable inside sources as The Weekly Hubris’s Publishing-Editor, VazamBam aka Vassilis Zambaras is all of the following, and more, in an order no one can vouchsafe as definitive: a publishing poet who writes every day of his life; a hugely successful father (and a not-so-very-successful local political candidate); a professor of English as a Foreign Language, with portfolio; a Renaissance Man of many skills, useful and not-so; a fount of information about his particular corner of his birth country; an unstable and utterly unique mix of Greek and American, American and Greek; and the man fortunate and wily enough to have made off with Messenia’s loveliest and most talented local daughter as his child bride. Besides being all the aforementioned, other more dubious sources have also reported seeing him hanging out at the corner of—in the guise of a “new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer’s block.” Author Photo: Pericles Boutos
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.

Comments are closed.