Christmas,
The night of Christ,
The breathtaking eve when the
Babe of the Incarnation
Heroically came to save us.
St. Joseph,
The Knight of Christ,
The brave, holy man that the
Babe of the Incarnation
Trusted wholeheartedly.
A FATHER'S PRAYER TO ST. JOSEPH /
O St. Joseph,
The humble one,
Unite your prayers
To Our Lord Jesus
With those of
The Holy Virgin,
And implore Him
To give each of us
What you gave to
Your Holy Family:
Strength to lead,
Love to inspire,
Wisdom to guide.
Amen.
THE HOLY KNIGHT /
You are the knight of the Dove,
Who on that Holy Night met Love.
The magi in their wise hands hold
Both sweet frankincense and gold,
But your strong courageous arms
Save Baby Jesus from all harms.
You are the brilliant Star of Light
In Bethlehem’s deep dark night.
Hellishly bloody Herod the Hater
Fears that he’s not the greater,
But you, oh most humble father,
With vainglory don’t even bother.
You are the knight of the Dove,
Who on that Silent Night met Love.
TO ST. JOSEPH /
Your thick, wavy brown hair happily
Blows in the breeze of God’s will;
Your warm brown eyes twinkle with
Contentment, crinkling as you smile.
You protect the holy Babe from Herod’s
Hellish hands, which are dripping with blood;
In obedience, you help the Holy Family
Evade him and elusively escape to Egypt.
As a worker, you handle the wood of
God’s creation with gentle strength;
With industrious ingenuity, you use
God’s good gifts to serve others.
You shatter lustful temptation with your
Carpenter’s mallet of holy purity;
Then, as God’s valiant soldier, you slay
Selfishness with the sword of surrender.
In your loving example, you show little Jesus
how to be a good son to His mother;
With your humble heart, you teach Love
How to love, and the angels are amazed.
OUR LADY OF JOY /
As she serenely stepped out of the upper
room, she rejoiced in a fresh new day,
She looked about her peaceful surroundings,
drinking in the delicious goodness of God;
Clusters of clouds casually wafted by, so low
that they brushed the pinnacle of the temple,
They passed by like eager pilgrims, Eucharistic
white against the bright blue morning sky;
Later that morning, she and the Apostles were
deeply immersed in prayer when, suddenly,
She inhaled the sweet scent of God’s presence,
and joyfully breathed in the Lord’s love;
The balmy breeze of grace swirled around her
and compassionately caressed her,
She reflected on God’s glorious grandeur,
and His magnificence soaked into her soul;
Then, the Word rushed through them all,
as the Holy Spirit swiftly swooped down,
The bold beautiful breeze of heavenly hope
placidly filled the sails of their souls;
The Paraclete, like a powerful, whirling wind,
spectacularly sparked the wicks of their
Souls, and ignited the fire of love, which
rippled through and rhymed in their hearts;
Then, Our Lady’s heart was passionately,
preciously pierced by the sweet sword
Of the Spirit; her soul, suddenly
brimming with God’s majestic mercy,
Soared in a spiraling celestial
crescendo of God’s love for her;
With peaceful confidence, her heart,
like a fiery supernova, exploded with
Feelings of love, joy, and peace,
of patience, kindness, and generosity;
Her smiling eyes then beheld the
flaming fire of Love resting on all, and as
She serenely surrendered all to the Spirit,
like a giddy geyser she gushed
Torrents of light-hearted laughter
and happy, heavenly tears; this golden
Cascade of pure love poured over
her soul like a warm, wonderful
Waterfall of holy honey; deep down
inside, the Spirit was strumming on
The harmonic harp of her heart, and
she was deliciously, delightfully deluged
By this overwhelming ocean of her
Jesus’ magnificent mercy and love;
The Light of the World had scattered
and defeated the dreary dark night.
EASTER AT EMMAUS /
Our heads hung low,
Saddened and perplexed
By the troubling events just
Three days prior in Jerusalem;
My companion and I were
Searching for the missing piece
Of the Messianic puzzle,
Not realizing that it was less
Than a stone’s throw away;
Then, when we turned around,
We found a man who was both
Wise and friendly, and He too
Was on the road to Emmaus;
As He spoke to us over the
Next several miles, the fire of
Heavenly hope began to rekindle
Within our souls once again,
So we invited Him to sup with us
When we arrived in Emmaus;
After the sun set over the hills,
The stars twinkled with delight as
The Son suddenly rose in our hearts,
For when He broke the bread,
He smiled His very gentle smile,
And we felt as if we had been
Born again.
THE RESURRECTION /
I turn around and before me you stand,
one whose robe is dazzlingly white,
As you speak my name and say “Mary,”
you forever shatter my deep dark night;
With great love, you bestow your peace upon me,
through your wonderfully warm brown eyes,
Your merciful smile cheers my heart,
so that my soul can most sweetly arise;
In the joyful breeze of the Holy Spirit,
your flowing hair very gently swirls,
In my heart I totally surrender to you,
and for you this is a treasure of pearls.
THE CRUCIFIXION /
In a shadow of deep darkness, the Light
of the world hangs crooked on the cross,
A jagged crown of razor-thin thorns is
thrust maliciously into His throbbing head;
Bright-red blood and the fickle crowd’s
sour spittle trickle into His stinging eyes,
He licks His cracked lips, and He tastes
the bold bitter flavor of blood.
The Roman soldiers’ wild whips tore
and radically ripped Jesus’ holy flesh,
And now the sticky crusted wounds cling
to the weatherbeaten wood and ooze;
Knife-like nails puncture His hands and feet,
and make them look like cored apples,
His shoulders slump down, crushed under
the weight of every sin in human history.
The soldiers hellishly hammered the nails
into Jesus’ flesh, as if He were an animal,
Indescribable pain blasted through the
bones of His body like dynamite;
He now surrenders His body, mind, soul,
and spirit to the will of His Father,
He lovingly practices what He preached,
and He prays for His persecutors.
Jesus is high up, as if atop an isolated
island, surrounded by a sea of hate,
A cacophonous chorus of insults assails
His ears, and the smell of sin is in the air;
His mother, living in the dark night of
unknowing, silently waits and watches,
She kneels in total surrender, while a
sword of sorrow slashes her heavy heart.
In the afternoon, Golgotha is enveloped
in a mysterious murky darkness,
Then, when Jesus dies, the earth quakes
in violent anger at the murder of its Creator;
Rumbling and roaring, buildings catastrophically
crash and crumble to the ground,
The terrifying temblor forces the sanctuary’s
curtain to explosively burst apart.
That mysterious murky darkness remains
in the hearts of Jesus’ faithful followers,
Their entire worlds are seriously shaken,
and they are stunned and stupefied;
But on the third day, the nebulous fog
of uncertainty will finally dissolve,
On the third day, a heavenly ray of Light
will come, far brighter than the sun.
THE AGONY OF UNREQUITED LOVE /
I love you, I love you
so very much,
more than you
can possibly imagine,
yet you carelessly
turn your back on me
and you ignore me,
living your busy life
as if I never existed;
now I kneel here
in this olive garden,
with my warm hands
clasped tightly together,
so deeply and so greatly
in love with you,
and my heart is broken
because I want to share
my life with you;
I love you,
and I painfully weep
hot tears for you,
and my sweat falls like
drops of blood --
all because of you.
THE DARK WEB /
We excitedly rocket through
cyberspace at supersonic speeds,
obsessively and compulsively
ricocheting back and forth,
from website to website,
magnetically mesmerised
by the alluring amusements of
the information superhighway;
but we are oblivious to the
hideous horrors that lurk
right underneath us as the
black spirit of Sauron stirs
in the giant spider-demons
that track our every move,
creeping and crawling
stealthily through the
slime and stench of
the dark web,
insidiously seeking
to exploit our weaknesses
and drag us deep down
into the infernal abyss.
SMART PHONES /
These little electronic
beasts
have insatiable
app-etites.
Like possessive pets,
they feast on my
attention --
they demand that I
stroke them and pet them,
constantly,
more and more and more,
until I’m dazed and confused and
technologically schmoozed.
And then,
when I least expect it,
their sleek semiconductors
swallow my sleepy
soul.
THE DARKNESS OF DOOM /
Act I
There was midnight madness
in the heart of darkness,
where lustful lovers caroused
and burned with wild passion,
and although they were
warned by pilgrims who
were on their way to Rome,
they lived the philosophy
of carpe diem:
they could always repent
tomorrow;
but early in the morning
on the very next day,
an event took place
that forever changed
the world of Pompeii:
it was August 24, 79 AD, and
proud Pompeii was bathed
in warm peaceful sunshine
when the earth began to quake
to the awakening heartbeat
that began to stir deep inside of
the voluptuous Vesuvius,
and here and there the roof tiles
of the stately city of Pompeii
undulated in a rhythmic motion,
up and down, and up and down,
before resting quietly
and slumbering again,
as Vesuvius silently and stealthily
yawned a slow stream of
thin white smoke into the
clear blue sky.
Act II
By the afternoon,
there was a light veil
of white smoke that now
draped Vesuvius’ verdant body,
but when she suddenly and
violently erupted in anger,
belching coal-colored smoke
from her crater’s trembling lips
and spewing it high into
the pale blue sky,
it was only a matter of seconds
before flaming black rocks,
like Mephistophelian meteorites,
revengefully rained down
from the swiftly darkening sky,
smashing the roof tiles and
crushing the marble statues
above the villas’ courtyards;
meanwhile, the stunned citizens
scrambled and stumbled around
as the vigorous heartbeat
of the vain Vesuvius
pounded powerfully,
and a cataclysmic earthquake
ripped through Pompeii:
the sleeping giant
was now fully awake;
as the terrified men and women
raised their wild eyes
to the sullen sky,
they screamed like savages
and cursed their pagan gods
for punishing them,
and they spat in the air
at their pathetic gods.
Act III
Several hours later,
above the hellish rubble
of this humbled city,
the black sun approached the
black horizon and ominous clouds
suffocated the helpless sky:
Pompeii wailed in pain
and writhed woefully
as the victorious Vesuvius,
bathed in the seductive
red glow of liquid lava,
relentlessly embraced the
city in her hot wrath,
and electric bolts of
volcanic lightning danced
like convulsive demons
and lit up the murky sky
as ashen rain fell feebly
to the flaming ruins below;
maimed dogs howled in horror
at the shockingly surreal and
apocalyptic spectacle,
while the lonely human survivors,
their psyches severely shattered,
huddled together for cover
under the crumbling columns
that were sinking in a sea of
charcoal-gray ashes.
Act IV
As the sun slowly rose
the next morning,
the new day dawned with
a deep deafening silence,
and the sickly sun shuddered
as it peered through the
broken black clouds,
lamenting the loss of the
once grand city of Pompeii;
as the scattered survivors
clutched ever so tightly to
their shredded sliver of hope,
it appeared that perhaps the
volcanic storm had finally
exhausted itself,
and the remaining citizens,
with empty expressions
on their blank faces,
slowly and weakly
began the process of
putting the splintered pieces
of their lives back together again;
but in the distance
they suddenly heard a
thunderous roar that
rapidly and frighteningly
crescendoed as it drew nearer,
sounding very much like
a stampede of the gods;
with great trepidation,
the people lifted their
bloodshot eyes and they saw a
massive wall of
whirling gray clouds --
as tall as Vesuvius herself --
rushing madly along the
surface of the ground and
coming right towards them;
it paused momentarily,
as if trying to catch its breath,
before making one last
diabolical attack upon its enemy;
then in a twinkle of time,
the voracious cloud of hot ash
charged through and hungrily devoured
the crumpled carcass
of pitiful Pompeii.
Act V
As Time drearily dragged the
morning into afternoon,
the poor Pompeians
were forever frozen
and cemented into history,
buried alive in a twelve-foot
blizzard of blazing ashes;
the solitary sun looked down
sadly upon the waveless
gray ocean of volcanic ash,
and Pompeii was nothing more
than a desolate wasteland --
even the powerful Vesuvius
was left seriously crippled,
with her cone blown off
by the explosiveness of her fury;
when the news of this event finally
reached the imperial city of Rome,
Pope Cletus gathered for mass
with his flock and, together,
they fervently prayed for
the souls of the victims who perished
in the very dark tragedy of
the doomed city of Pompeii.
WHO WAS JUDAS ISCARIOT? /
Was he actually
humble?
Or did his pride
puff
like swollen eyelids and make him
stumble?
Was he possibly
kind?
Or did silent envy
creep
like a serpent into his
mind?
Did he patiently
wait?
Or did his simmering anger
boil
as he smelled that costly nard with
hate?
Did he have
zeal?
Or was his faith
sluggish
like at his last supper
meal?
Did he perchance
share?
Or did his fingers
clutch
the silver coins to keep in his
lair?
Did his temperance avoid every
snag?
Or was he a glutton who
gobbled
all the leftover loaves from his
bag?
Did he have self-
control?
Or did he pant and burn for
power
since killing the Romans was his
goal?
Did he ultimately
repent?
Or did his soul
fall
through the noose like
cement?
O DEAREST LADY OF LOURDES /
As I gently finger the beads of the rosary,
I touch your warm soft hands,
I gaze into your merciful, majestic eyes,
And I contemplate your loveliness;
Together our precious prayers mingle,
And rise up like sweet incense,
Its scent perfumes the halls of Heaven,
And delights the Lord of Light.
THE MYSTICAL MONASTERY IN THE DESERT /
The long, arduous journey
was finally over,
More challenging than going
from London to Dover;
Clarissa Candela opened
her deep, dark eyes,
She got out of bed not
expecting any surprise;
For the last 33 days it’s been
a time for new prayers,
Almost like climbing a beautiful
resort’s elegant stairs;
Going upward towards God
in an imperceptible way,
She didn’t notice any spiritual growth
when she knelt down to pray.
As the beacon of dawn
gradually conquered the night,
The sinful, fearful darkness
was very quickly put to flight;
The angels unfurled the banner
of God’s light across the sky,
As on the freeway Clarissa
calmly drove in the desert so dry;
Her pilgrimage was to the beauteous
chapel of Our Lady of Solitude,
And since she could see the cupola,
her arrival was a certitude;
With holy sunbeams striking a
stained glass window from afar,
The chapel looked like a lighthouse
reflecting Bethlehem’s star.
Clarissa got out of her car, and a
sweet smile danced across her lips,
Her long, dark hair through the comforting
breeze ever so gently whips;
Looking at the chapel, she saw arches
and columns in a style European,
The dappled desert stone, rustically
elegant, made it look Galilean;
The cupola, topped with a simple cross,
was Our Lady’s jeweled crown,
And the t-shaped tau on the gable
declared good St. Francis’ renown;
Clarissa looked up, twirled around,
and saw an immense sky so blue,
She had never seen such beauty clothed
in such peace, ‘tis so very true.
Then she entered the chapel
experiencing a spiritual thirst,
Truly there were not many people
at mass on this January First;
Their few voices were humbly and
quietly raised almost inaudibly aloft,
And the Franciscan priest said mass
in a voice that was very, very soft;
The devout Poor Clare nuns were
all engaged in the deepest prayer,
And, honestly, the mass was so silent
that it was exceedingly rare;
When Clarissa’s 33-day prayers of
consecration were finally done,
Might she be in danger of ending
as uneventfully as she had begun?
But St. Louis de Montfort’s
Consecration to Jesus through Mary,
Was recommended by her wise old
Irish pastor Monsignor O’Clary;
He had preached quite a fine homily
about this special devotion,
Saying, “It can really change your life,
if you have the notion”;
But now let me share with you
one rather noteworthy fact,
St. Louis’ closing prayer is
really a form of holy contract;
She knelt before Our Lord’s
beautiful crucifix near the altar,
And she dearly hoped that her
heart would not ever falter.
Midway through this closing prayer,
Clarissa’s heart was passionately,
Preciously pierced by the sweet sword
of the Spirit; her soul, suddenly
Brimming with God’s majestic mercy,
soared in a spiraling celestial
Crescendo of God’s love for her;
fearing that her heart, like a fiery
Supernova, might explode with emotion,
she silently slipped out
And sat quietly, alone, on the sofa
in the pilgrims' guest room;
Here she serenely surrendered all
to the Spirit, like a noble
Knight of Christ, Through Our Lady,
The Queen of All Hearts.
Then like a giddy geyser she gushed
torrents of light-hearted laughter
And happy, heavenly tears; this golden
cascade of pure love poured
Over her soul like a warm, wonderful
waterfall of holy honey; deep down
Inside, the Spirit was strumming on
the harmonic harp of her heart, and
She was deliciously, delightfully deluged
by this overwhelming ocean of God’s love for her.
Afterwards, Clarissa softly strolled
back into the chapel to finish her
Closing prayer; approaching the altar,
with awe, she beheld the crucifix
Where Christ the Courageous heroically
hangs; from the back of the church
She felt his love as a light, blissful,
balmy breeze; but as she
Drew closer to that crucifix, she felt
His love magnificently magnified as it
Ignited into an intense, surging storm
of explosive, electric joy;
Kneeling before that same crucifix,
as a bold, brave warrior, she battled
Through her emotions until
word by word, slowly,
Meaningfully, she finished
her prayer of consecration.
Every year for the rest of her life
this holy devotion she would pray,
She would always return to Our Lady
of Solitude on the very same day;
Just as Our Lady had very few truly
remarkable days in her saintly life,
Clarissa had few days in which intense
joy pierced her soul like a knife;
Although she never again experienced
a cascading heavenly waterfall,
Every so often a raindrop of pure,
holy love her heart would enthrall;
In the twinkling of an eye the sword
of the Spirit would pierce her soul,
As if to remind her that perfect love
in Heaven must always be her goal.
OUR LADY OF DIVINE MERCY /
Trembling, I hid in your mantle, protected
From the dark night of unknowing;
You guided me up the steep, perilous path,
Towards the sparkling, starry heavens.
The demonic winds gusted, and with
Frightful ferocity thunder shook the air;
Serpentine lightning darted in the sky, and
Lava streams slithered down the slopes.
But then the Sun of God dazzlingly dawned,
And He put an end to the dark night;
Beams of bright light, both red and white,
Streamed soothingly into my soul.
Atop the summit, you took my hand,
And together we flew into the Light;
We laughed like merry little children,
Soaking in the sunshine of pure Mercy.
THE LORD OF THE PITCHER'S MOUND /
A Variation of “The Lord of the Baseball Diamond” (with a revised conclusion)
Seven-foot Sauron stands imperiously
like a goliath on the mound,
Wearing his glistening, gleaming armor,
he longs to be crowned;
His wind-up is Smaug-like
and slithering and serpentine,
As if he’s been guzzling and gulping
hot Mordor turpentine;
Brimming with poison pride,
he frantically fires a fastball of power,
That rings through the air
as it aims to devour.
But Gandalf hits a flaming line drive
that decapitates Sauron’s poor head,
This fire-eyed fool paid for his arrogance,
and that’s why he’s doornail dead;
Sauron was buried on the pitcher’s mound,
where it came to be known as Mount Doom,
That night there were post-game fireworks
that erupted from his fiery tomb.
A PRAYER BEFORE CONFESSION /
Dearest Jesus,
As I prepare
For the sweet sacrament
Of Holy Reconciliation,
Through the power
Of the Holy Spirit
Please bring to my mind
Every sin
You wish me to confess,
Every root cause
You wish me to acknowledge,
Everything forgotten
You wish me to remember,
That I may totally
Pour out my heart
Before you,
And totally surrender
To your Divine Mercy.
Amen.
THE LORD OF THE BASEBALL DIAMOND /
Seven-foot Sauron stands imperiously
like a goliath on the mound,
Wearing his glistening, gleaming armor,
he longs to be crowned;
His wind-up is Smaug-like and
slithering and serpentine
As if he’s been guzzling and gulping
hot Mordor turpentine;
Brimming with poison pride, he
frantically fires a fastball of power,
That rings through the air
as it aims to devour.
Recognizing the temptation,
Mr. Baggins the most honorable,
Surrenders to the Spirit and humbly
lays down a bunt phenomenal;
The baseball sneaks softly
down the third-base line
And Mr. Baggins thinks to himself,
First-base is all mine!
Then, like a slingshot, off to
first base he invisibly darts,
And the burglar makes it safely
because he’s so smarts.
ASH WEDNESDAY /
Misty grey flakes of melancholy ash
Fall in my dark, gloomy sky as I
Somberly reflect on the approach of
The dreaded and deadly pestilence;
As I examine my life, I realize that
Truly I’ve crucified the Lord of Glory
Through my solitary selfishness and
Through my treacherous tongue;
But after my discipline in the desert,
The Light of the Divine Mercy
Will shine in dazzling brilliance
And quickly warm my cold heart.