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  • Writer's pictureTroy Kinney

Poems: Reformation Festival

Updated: Oct 24, 2019


Fortunes At Our Feet

Arriving under leafy eucalyptus branches

Snowy tent tops like

a tiny cathedral in the grass

Folks mingling,

excitement wafting through the air

Pigs roasting over ashy coals

Kids chasing fun over patches of green

and jumping for dreams

on candy colored air castles.

Our future knights and ladies

under the kingly guard,

of the Lord’s servants

Adults smiling to the sky,

Bagpipes blow as the tartan lady dances

Over sword and scabbard

with the seriousness of history

A festival of reformers

Clapping and conversation

Tyndale walks into our ears

on the cobblestone streets of our minds

Is that Calvin walking ahead

talking with Luther?

Great men leading us

from our past,

lingering on our future.

Scripture from scratchings, and etchings,

epochs ago

Treasure in our hands,

treasure in our hearts,

treasure for children’s children.


The Serving of Food

Pork rolling, gobblers frying

Mouths watering as juices drip,

oil bubbles over.

Anticipating the thick passion of roasted meat.

White coals and rising fervor

Folks salivating as eyes watch

round and round.

Pigs hog tied over fire with chicken wire.

Twisting, twisting, slowly twisting.

Kegs of brew sitting on ice,

friends with crimson cups

Sippin’ suds,

No such thing as bitterness

Crisp salads and warm sides

Breads in baskets

peeking out from

behind thin towels

Plates piled with bounty

and mouths full of gratefulness

Fruit punch stains beyond children’s lips

Ribs plucked dry by anxious teeth

Impossibly smooth plates

wiped clean by rolls of wheat.


Velcro Wall

Boys and girls bounding inside

stifling, sweaty, suits.

Violet images soaring through

space, sail and Stick!

Another and another slam and then

ripped down

by gravity and

a pull of the foot

A small lad, sitting on the side,

riding on a wall of air.

Jouncing, bouncing,

like a bobble headed boy.

A miniature cowboy on a red vinyl horse.

Two hands holding on,

a slip,

and a near fall.

He’s hanging-on with a laugh, grinning-giggle.

Watching the purple people

hurdling into the wall beside him.

How much more fun can a three year old have?


Wise Foolishnesses

Legs in potato sacks jumping

Elbows locked as kids drag a friend for run

Faces wet and dunking,

laboring for fruit.

All mirth and delight.

Outright hilarity and let go of your modesty

Pie in your eye and embedded in your beard

Lean forward, suck it down

Sink your teeth in the sugary froth

Applicator of tin

full of face cream

-whipped topping, chocolate pudding pie.

Pictures snap and bulbs flash in the aftermath of

Breathing up the sweet sloppy dish.


Bold Ballet

Dancing under cloudy skies

Wet feet pass each other on the damp ground.

Tennis shoes and sandals,

boots and bare feet.

Happy toes, delighted soles

wiggling in the dance.

Hands grabbing,

fingers friendly

gripping and letting go

A twist, a turn,

a new face smiling in the round.

Music of fiddles and laughter from joy

A cacophonic symphony of friends


To live

the life of the festival heart



Gather all you people

for a festival of reform

Gather all you gray clouds

to wash the sinners clean

Reign down on us Lord

with all your grace and love

Rain down on us soft black

guardians of smoke in the sky

Scatter the weak

and assemble the mighty

Splatter the demons

of forgetfulness

Revive or history and make

our heritage strong

Protect our children’s legacy.

Clear visions of the future

in grasping our past

What others have stood up and

fallen for.

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