G.K. Chesterton Society

of Springfield, Massachusetts





" Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese. "

Poet's Corner


Please enjoy these selected poems, some by Chesterton, some by group members, family or friends:

Please click the sound icon below to hear a musical rendition of Jerry Poulin's poem, "Quiet Times".  Vocals by Jennifer Gaffney.  Music by Steve Moser & T. Wartman.
Quiet Times
by Gerald Poulin

I remember how, in a maze of madness,
You gave me restoration in repose;
How in assent to you I gained consolation,
And from deep mute restlessness arose.

You gave me quiet times of wonder,
Times to ponder and to praise;
They were the means of my salvation
in those far unhappier days.

For families may cease to function as they ought,
And the promise of lovers be untrue,
But in the soul's eternal hush
One might cling and cleave to you.

There, in sacred stillness set apart,
I could free my homing heart to seek;
And there, surrendering all resistance,
I would loose my inmost tongue to speak.

No, all is not loss and loneliness,
All is not pain and dread,
For you see me in my solitude
And raise me living from the dead.

And the gates of hell are vanquished with a word,
And the way lies open to my sight,
And I step straight ahead in confidence,
And I fear now no evil in the night.

So let me not be haughty or ungrateful,
O let me not in the noise of life forget
Those times when you remembered one forlorn,
When you and I in holy silence often met.

The Good Servant

by Emma Moser


The door opens. Two figures stand and wait:

Angels of death, come to guide the saint Home.

A man of wit and words, but in the end,

Silence was his crime, this faithful of Rome.

Unlike is he to his fellow nobles

Who crumbled before an earthly king’s might;

Who saved their lives, but forfeited their souls,

Forsaking the King who shouldered their plight.

O réquiem ætérnam dona ei,”

Sing angel choirs to welcome their martyr.

Likened is he to the Galilean.

The priest bows his head o’er the high altar.

The ax rises. He speaks what none else durst:

“I die the king’s good servant, but God’s first.”


An Appeal For The Poet To Grow Up

by Gerald Poulin


What were you thinking, Mister Frost,

When you took the savage road?

Is it better to be lost?

I will not follow, no, not I.

I'll take the road familiar,

The one more travelled by.

Difference is over-rated;

Autonomy - dated.

Don't you think it's time we converged,

And came out of the woods entire?


Panis Angelicus

by Stephen Moser


We came from the world seeking heavenly bread

With the power to raise mortal men from the dead,

And to make saints of sinners when sinners are fed.

Sinners are fed!  Sinners are fed!

So we came filled with hunger and wonder and dread.


But alas, they'd forgotten the heavenly bread,

And gave us a wafer and handshake instead.

And with wink and a nod, said it's all in our head,

All in our head.

For, alas, they'd forgotten the heavenly bread.


We came seeking steeples of beauty renown.

For a King of kings' castle with Corinthian crown.

To bask in the colors of stained windows' rays,

And to raise up our eyes in glorious gaze

To oak wood, marble and marvelous stone,

And to spires to herald a heavenly home.

A heavenly home!  A heavenly home!

We came seeking steeple and spire and throne.


But alas, they'd forgotten the steeples renown,

Which they, in their haste, had hewn to the ground.

And gave us an abstract and angular mall

With no spires, and no higher than one story tall.

And replaced oak wood, marble and marvelous stone

With stucco, and plastic, and tiles of foam.

And a faceless façade neither beaming nor frowned,

Not beaming, not frowned.

For, alas, they'd forgotten the beauty renowned.


We came seeking worship and anthems of praise,

For mystical mists, and candlelit haze.

To hear cantors' chants and penitents' pleas,

To watch incense rise, as men fall to their knees.

We came seeking scriptures and wisdom of old,

To tremble at prophecies prophets foretold.

And for shouts from a shepherd to strengthen the fold.

Strengthen the fold!  Strengthen the fold!

We came seeking words of fire, fierce and bold.


But alas, they'd forgotten the anthems and hymns,

And gave us dull ditties and today's latest whims.

And the mystery of candle and fragrance-filled air,

They'd replaced with a featureless, fluorescent glare.

And those fiery words, once so brazen and bold,

Now trite little tidbits, timid and cold.

Timid and cold; so timid, so cold.

For alas, they'd forgotten the worship of old.


And now they sit worried and wondering why

The pews are all empty - the coffers all dry.

How could committee plans go so awry?

Perhaps some new gimmick should be given a try.

Give this a try; Give that a try.

So they dither and wither while wondering why.


For, you see, they've forgotten the heavenly bread

That made saints of sinners when sinners were fed.

And the King of kings' castle with Corinthian crown,

Which they, with their wrecking balls, tore to the ground.

And the wisdom of scripture, and the anthems of praise,

And the mystical mists, and the candlelit haze.

Alas, they've forgotten our heavenly bread.

And now, how we hunger and long to be fed

Our heavenly bread!  Our heavenly bread!

Oh yes, how we hunger.

How much longer, we wonder,

Must we wait here and hunger for heavenly bread?