WILLIE THE WORRIER /  by Joe Castorino

Willie the Worrier woke up in bed,

He was quickly filled with horrible dread;

His main goal in life was to get ahead,

Yet he stumbled and fell behind instead;

Never satisfied with his daily bread,

Now this stressaholic is door-nail dead.

TO ST. JOHN PAUL II /  by Joe Castorino

You have a playful, loving smile

that was delightfully disarming,

You have pleasant, penetrating eyes

that looked deep into our souls,

As a humble seminarian you silently

evaded the nefarious Nazis,

Years later, your heroic words crushed

the cold-hearted Communists;

Your valiant, victorious voice was

carried on the wondrous wings

Of the cheerful cherubim who raced

round the globe and rained down

On the world your heavenly hope

and wonderful words of wisdom.

You are a saint for our century:

poignant poet, daring dramatist,

Protector of the powerless,

merciful mystic, pro-life pope,

And stalwart spearhead who ignited

the fire of the New Evangelization;

Your hideous opponent the devil,

like a sly, sneaky soccer player,

Tantalizingly tried to kick abortion

through Holy Church’s doors, but

As the goalie of the Chair of St. Peter,

you flicked away temptation,

With your rock-solid shepherd’s staff

gripped in your warrior-like hands.

In Poland, you relentlessly pursued

Christ’s love even though

You had to trudge terribly through

the dreadful, dreary dark night

Of Nazi dictatorship, and you had

to bear the wicked weight of the

Cruel, crafty Communists in your

beloved, historic city of Krakow;

Through your remarkable writings

you lifted us ever so high in the air

In a Heaven-bound spiral, far far above

the murky mist of moral relativism

And into the sublime, sunny splendor

Of Christ’s truth and freedom.

Via Crucis /  by Joe Castorino

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

like Veronica with her veil,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn;

the Holy Father’s

old, wrinkled face

winces with pain,

like a warrior’s,

as he most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

TO ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX /  by Joe Castorino

My sweet Little Flower,

your humble acts of charity

are like tiny grains of sand,

yet when they’re poured out

upon the fruitful fields of Heaven

by the Father’s faithful fingers,

they form a mountain of love

that would gracefully tower

over the mighty Everest;

you stand in great strength,

as the missionary of missionaries,

in the gentle presence of

the Virgin of virgins,

the Mystical Rose

of incomparable beauty,

and your precious seeds of prayer

are cultivated with care by the

ever patient Divine Gardener,

nourished by His living water,

producing a bountiful harvest of

salvation in our suffering world;

above the clouds of worry,

your cheerful sky is always blue --

help me to follow your example

so that my soul too may sing

those heartfelt words of wisdom:

“My vocation is love!”

TO ST. MATTHEW THE APOSTLE /  by Joe Castorino

You collected terribly tall taxes,

And that’s why many called you a beast,

But then you met the loving Lord Jesus,

And quickly your financial career ceased;

Some felt you were a bloodsucker,

With a black-hearted desire to be rich,

But when you followed the mild Messiah,

Immediately you found your niche.

Perhaps like Scrooge you were selfish,

And you knew not how to love,

But then the Savior softened your heart,

And it became like that of a dove;

Maybe you counted clusters of coins,

And had lofty luxurious goals,

But after the Good Master inspired you,

You wrote a gospel to save sinners’ souls.

DIVINE UNION WITH THE DIVINE MERCY /  by Joe Castorino

 

My soul surrenders to

The Spirit’s tender embrace,

And Love sweetly surges

Through my being with the

Warm wine of holiness;

With indescribable delight

My humbled heart

Bursts with heavenly joy,   

Burning with passion for

The Crucified Christ,

Yearning for union with

The Divine Mercy.

 

TO ST. PADRE PIO /  by Joe Castorino

 

When we, your stubborn spiritual children,    

  Don’t listen to you in holy confession,     

You slap the Spirit into our sleepy souls,        

  As you make prayerful intercession.

    

When we plan to drop the blitzkrieg bombs        

  Of mortal sin into our desperate heart,     

You bilocate and bravely speak the truth,

  And the holy fear of God to us impart.        

        

When the evil one stealthily attacks us,    

  Aggressively seeking victims to devour,        

As a warrior, you heroically hunt him down,        

  And lasso the beast with Rosary power.

 

TO ST. MONICA /  by Joe Castorino

 

You agreed to marry Patricius the pagan,

  Humbly submitting to your parents’ will,

You were very kind and generous to him,

  Though he responded by treating you ill;

But about a year before leaving this world,

  He finally accepted the Nicene Creed,

Through your example of faith and love,

  His stubborn soul was finally freed.

 

However, you still had much work to do,

  For your son Augustine broke your heart,

He was a teacher who was very arrogant,

  And he strutted because he was smart;

But you vigorously persisted in prayer,

  Fasting with tears over his empty life,

When he met the great Bishop Ambrose,

  The Spirit pierced your son like a knife.

 

It was on Easter that the saintly Ambrose

  Joyfully baptised your prodigal son

Who went on to become a Church Father,

  And many victories over heretics won;

The end of your life was so very sweet

  As Augustine treated you like gold,

You’re the patroness of motherhood,

  And of your story many have been told.

 

AVE MARIA /  by Joe Castorino

 

She gently rocks me,    

back and forth,     

in her slender arms,    

since I’m a little babe    

who can’t find Jesus    

alone, without her;    

she lovingly caresses    

and warms me in the

cold dark night,     

and her smiling eyes    

twinkle in the Light;    

her soft rosy lips        

sweetly kiss me    

as she leads me    

faithfully and joyfully

to her merciful Son,    

the Bread of Life.

 

DIVINE MERCY: THE CLOSER IN THE DARK NIGHT /  by Joe Castorino

 

My Merciful Manager

hands me the ball,

and I take the mound     

in the ninth inning   

since our team is    

ahead by one run.    

 

I go to confession and then        

devoutly pray Lectio Divina,        

reflecting upon Sacred Scripture        

for at least thirty minutes,        

and I pitch a supersonic fastball

that crisply crackles in my

All-Star catcher’s glove --     

the first hitter strikes out,

with an aggressive         

swing and a miss.

 

Next, I receive Holy Communion,        

and I swiftly snap off a    

knee-buckling curveball --    

the second hitter in the lineup        

strikes out, frozen    

like a cement gargoyle        

as he watches the baseball        

bend over the strike zone.    

Finally, free from attachment

to every inclination to sin,

I pray an Our Father,        

followed by a Hail Mary,

for the Holy Father’s intentions,    

and I release a knuckleball        

that dives through the air    

like the Dove of Divine Mercy --         

the third hitter in the lineup        

strikes out, waving his bat            

helplessly, hopelessly,            

missing it by a foot.

 

Suddenly a bright star        

speeds across the dark sky,        

streaming red and white    

in unimaginable exhilaration,                

escaping the pains of Purgatory        

and finding the pleasures of Paradise;        

then my All-Star catcher,

the sweet Lady of Love,        

leaps into my waiting arms,        

joyfully embracing me  

with the kiss of peace,     

to celebrate yet another

heavenly save in the

Kingdom of Divine Mercy.

 

TO ST. HELENA /  by Joe Castorino

 

Dear modest, majestic 

   mother of Constantine,

You sweetly speak 

   with stately serenity;

As a holy pilgrim, with 

   eyes alive and animated,

You search for Christ’s 

   true cross on Calvary.

 

Lumbering laborers dig up for 

   you a dizzying number

Of dirty crosses -- yet 

   only one is miraculous;

Only one cures the 

   worn-out woman’s incurable

Disease when she is 

   wondrously made well.

 

Then, when you eagerly 

   embrace its holy wood

In your amiable arms, you 

   tremble with jubilation;

Strands of your long flowing 

   hair blow in the breeze across

Your lovely face and then 

   softly caress the holy cross.

 

TO ST. MARTHA /  by Joe Castorino

 

You were a wonderful woman of hospitality,

  Anticipating all the guests’ needs,

While your sister sat near the Master,

  As the people He spiritually feeds;

But your mind was whirling with worry,

  Shackled by a million trifling things,

Meanwhile, the Word spoke of true freedom

  That lifted people’s souls with wings;

That day you learned an important lesson:

  First things always come first,

If we drink of the Lord’s living water,

  Then for the world we will never thirst.

TO ST. CLARE OF ASSISI /  by Joe Castorino

 

Your exquisite bright blue eyes 

   are soft and serene,

 Beholding the remarkable 

   richness of God’s creation;

Your honey hair cascades 

   over your shoulders like a

Wonderful waterfall of God’s 

   ineffable, indelible love;

Yet you choose to be a 

   princess of holy poverty,

And your only wish is to 

   sweetly serve in simplicity;

You are a faithful friend to 

   the good Saint Francis,

As you both sacrificially surrender 

   to Jesus the Just;

You are a merciful mother 

   to the nuns of San Damiano,

As you guide them in purity 

   and prudence and peace;

You are a beauteous bride 

   to Christ the Courageous,

And your soul is bedecked with

   the precious pearls of virtue;

As you fervently follow in the 

   footsteps of Our Loving Lord,

May we too live on in 

   the laudable light of Christ.

 

TO ST. ANNE /  by Joe Castorino

 

As the wind blows, 

Your wise brown eyes

Are covered by wisps

Of your brown hair;

You watch your

Little Maria,

Your saintly cherub,

Skipping away

With a smile;

Your finely furrowed brow

Is knitted in a knot,

As you are pensively

Waiting, wondering:

What does the Mighty One

Have in mind for my 

Darling dark-haired daughter?

May the Messiah be on the move?

 

TO ST. JOHN VIANNEY /  by Joe Castorino

 

As a soldier you were really quite inept,

  And as a student you weren’t much,

Although the seminary gave you a chance,

  It seemed holy orders you’d never touch;

But when the good God takes charge,

  There’s nothing that He cannot do,

So through the intercession of Philomena,

  Grace most bountifully fell on you.

 

Sent to a corrupt village named Ars,

  You woke it up with fiery preaching,

People were flabbergasted by your words

  And threatened by your priestly teaching;

Yet in the little box of the confessional,

  You won a victory over selfish hearts,

Though the devil anxiously pursued you,

   God extinguished all his flaming darts.

 

So many made pilgrimages to see you,

  And confession lines were terribly long,

But through God’s grace you read their souls,

  Bringing hope to many in the throng;

Thus the devil grew angrier and angrier,

  That’s why the beast ranted and raved,

Still you won over many many souls,

  In God’s mercy they were finally saved.

 

TO ST. Mary Magdalene /  by Joe Castorino

 

Your attractive dark hair,

very long and wavy,

flowed aimlessly and

hopelessly over your

darkened eyes --

you were worn out

by the world’s dirty coins

and dirtier men.

 

But when you met

Him, the brightest light

of the purest love

streamed into your eyes,

driving the deadly demons

into a fearful frenzy and --

suddenly -- you found yourself

finally free.

 

Then, on the third day,

you giggled like a little girl

as you jubilantly ran

from the tomb

to the upper room

of your heart,

with a smile sparkling

and a soul soaring.

 

TO ST. VERONICA /  by Joe Castorino

 

Under the cross, the Christ is crushed,

  And He staggers to the ground,

His loveblood pours from thorny wounds,

  Yet He utters not a single sound;

The stony Roman soldiers encircle Him,

  Watching for a menacing threat,

But with holy compassion for the Master,

  You just want to wipe away His sweat.

 

Like an invisible angel you pass them by,

  Focused on serving your Lord,

You approach to clean His bloody head,

  A head that has been badly gored;

For the very slightest moment of time,

  The weary Jesus has time to relax,

Then He presses His face into your cloth,

  Like a signet ring pressed to warm wax.

 

The savage soldiers abruptly grab you,

  Rudely and cruelly pushing you away,

But something catches your attention,

  A hopeful sign on this sorrowful day;

Your eyes twinkle with sincere wonder,

  And diminished are all your fears,

For there on your simple white cloth,

  The bloody visage of Jesus appears.

 

THE CHALICE OF DIVINE MERCY /  by Joe Castorino

 

When I scourge you with my sins

But then ask you for forgiveness,

Your most treasured blood

Trickles like tears into my heart;

When my thorny sins crown you,

But then I tell you that I’m sorry,

Drops of your royal red blood

Sink soothingly into my spirit;

Then, when I sincerely surrender

My whole heart and soul to you,

My lance of love pierces you,

And your beautiful blood spills

In terrific torrents from your

Chalice of Divine Mercy,

And my thirsty soul drinks in the

Sweet new wine of the Spirit.

 

SURRENDERING TO DIVINE MERCY /  by Joe Castorino

 

When I wave the white flag

in the serene surrender of prayer,

I allow the water of my soul

to be poured freely into

His chalice of gold;

there I am baptized by Love

and born again,

transformed by the Transfigured,

changed forever by the sweet

new wine of the Spirit.

 

TO JESUS THROUGH MARY /  by Joe Castorino

A DIVINE MERCY PRAYER

 

Dearest Mary, Queen of All Hearts,

Star of Love in the dark night,

Have mercy on us,

And on the whole world:

Pray for us!

 

Precious Jesus, King of the Universe,

Lord of Love and Lord of Light,

Have mercy on us,

And on the whole world:

I trust in You!