TO ST. JOHN XXIII

Some were very surprised you were

Elected by the College of Cardinals,

Still others thought you were not

Dignified enough for the papacy,

Yet Our Heavenly Father chose you.

With your timid smile and mild speech,

Who would have ever thought that

You would have had the courage and

Strength to convene Vatican II,

Yet Jesus Christ knew you.

In your humility you were obedient,

And like the sweetest little lamb you

Trusted Our Good Shepherd

As He held you in His strong arms,

So the Holy Spirit used you.

ST. JUDE THADDEUS THE APOSTLE

You had fabulous fun playing with Jesus,

  Your second cousin who knew no guile,

You loved to visit His mild mother,

  Who always had the sweetest smile;

Through the patient passing of the years,

  You saw the magical messiah mature,

And He chose you and your brother James,

  To be apostles who strive to be pure;

In loving loyalty your mother agonized,

  With Jesus’ mother at the foot of the cross,

Your father Cleophas was monstrously martyred,

  And his death was a dire loss;

But you steadfastly served the Lord,

  And were famous for physical healing,

You happily sought out holiness,

  And spent much time prayerfully kneeling;

In a foreign land you were beaten to a pulp,

  Until you were door-nail dead,

But it wasn’t satisfying enough,

  So your murderers lopped off your head;

Now you wear a martyr’s golden crown,

  And live in Heaven’s perennial jubilation,

Interceding for the Church Militant,

  You help it become a new creation.

TO ST. JAMES THE LESSER, THE APOSTLE

You were the first bishop of Jerusalem,

  And were known as James the Just,

As Jesus’ cousin and St. Jude’s brother,

  People knew that you they could trust;

Your knees thickened like a camel’s,

  From all your time kneeling in prayer,

You had a long beard and lots of hair,

  And you always treated people fair.

The Jewish leaders failed with St. Paul,

  So they turned their ire towards you,

Their raging revenge was out of control,

  And their delirious desire grew;

They wanted to crush the New Way,

  So they pursued you like angry apes,

Christians were sprouting up everywhere,

  Like vineyards full of plenteous grapes.

You bravely refused to reject the Christ,

  So they threw you from the temple’s pinnacle,

Their grotesque expressions were ghastly,

  As they chose to be stubbornly cynical;

Then they hurled jagged stones at you,

  And with a mallet broke your bones,

But you uttered prayers for your attackers,

  In between your painful groans.

UNEXPECTED JOURNEYS INTO DIVINE MERCY

To escape -- like a coward --

the stranglehold of stress,

I try my best to sidestep

inconvenient interruptions

whose menacing thunder

frightens me;

yet they lead me on a journey

to the God of surprises,

to Heaven’s horizon,

where the sun’s streaming rays

of radiant red and white are

colored by Love’s divine mercy.

TO ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI

Your jolly, joyful eyes dreamily dance

  to the sublime, saintly symphony

Of the unimaginably beautiful creations

  of the Most High Lord God;

Your pious, prayerful persistence

  and earnest embrace transform the

Leprous lechery of our lives into

  the radiant Son-shine of lasting love;

Your voice, like a melodious and

  musical church bell, resonates and

Reverberates throughout the ages

  with the clarity and purity of truth;

Your simple, kindly actions speak

  louder than the sonic boom of the

Ghastly gossip and eloquently

  empty chatter of the world.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

Guardian Angel, please pray for us,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your words rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

Your shining shield of protection

Guards us from the devil’s snare,

You deflect the dragon’s temptation,

And it evaporates into the air;

Gratitude is like a stream of living water,

Delightfully refreshing us during the day,

It brings joy to the heart and revives us,

While washing temptation away.

But when the evil one’s persuasive poison

Threatens to seep deep into our heart,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that it pierces our soul like a dart;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That crushes the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

And our life in the Spirit does grow.

TO ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX

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. SIMON THE APOSTLE

You were a zealot against the Romans,

  Whom you terribly wanted to crush,

Perhaps you dreamt of spearing their skulls,

  And watching their bright blood gush;

But Jesus of Nazareth was meek and mild,

  And he turned the other cheek,

When He healed the Roman’s servant,

  Did you think the Messiah was weak?

But Jesus spoke to rich and poor

  With an amazing proclamatory power,

And before no man -- Jew or Roman --

  Did He ever stoop or cower;

His multitudinous miracles filled your

  Heart with amazement and with awe,

Almost imperceptibly you came to realize

  That He was the fulfillment of the law.

Some say that you were cruelly crucified,

  Just like Our Most Blessed Lord,

Others say you were sawed in two,

  With your body savagely and brutally gored;

Either way, the acid anger of hate corroded

  The malicious murderers’ brains,

While in your holy heart God’s Spirit

  Everlastingly and eternally reigns.

TO ST. MATTHIAS THE APOSTLE

You were added to the Eleven just a little bit later,

you’re the one who is known for replacing the traitor;

You were a part of the mission of the seventy-two,

and you saw how Jesus’ power made all things new;

On Pentecost you received the promised Paraclete,

and heard the first papal speech of good old St. Pete;

You mortified your flesh to kill your desire,

coupled with virtue, it helped put out the fire;

As a martyr, you were stoned in the year 80 A.D.,

now surrounded by Love, you’re finally free.

TO ST. ANNE

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 THE BAPTIST

In humility you

   wear camel’s hair,

And your faith in God

   is extremely rare;

True repentance is

   your counsel for all,

Helping poor sinners

   to avoid a fall;

You detest the cruel

   world’s horrible lies,

For verily you are

   both strong and wise;

Then one day you see

   the holy white Dove,

And know that you

have finally found Love.

TO SAN GIUSEPPE OF COPERTINO

The townspeople all thought 

   you were a total fool,

But the saints agreed 

   you were really a jewel;

Academically you 

   weren’t very smart,

But you loved the Lord 

   from deep down in your heart;

The tough priestly studies 

   made you feel very drained,

Yet by God’s mercy 

   you were finally ordained;

With this the detractors’ gossip 

   finally ceased,

For they saw you 

   as a respectable priest;

The flabbergasted people 

   would just stand and stare:

For dozens of times 

   you levitated in prayer.

TO ST. MARY MAGDALENE

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. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO

Dear Augustine,

What a wonderful

Example you are

For us sinners;

Although you wasted 

So much time

In your young life,

You finally discovered

The gift of humility and,

In surrender,

You waved the white flag --

An arrogant, filthy rag --

And you gave Him all,

But He gave you

Still more: 

Divine Mercy.

TO ST. PADRE PIO

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. MARTHA

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. MATTHEW THE APOSTLE

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.

ST. MOTHER TERESA'S SMILE

Far far east of the River Nile,

There is Mother Teresa’s smile;

It is the presence of The Word,

When terrible things have occurred;

It is the brightness of The Light,

In the treacherous deep dark night;

It is the sweet fruit of The Vine,

When the poorest have no more wine.

TO ST. VERONICA

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.

TO ST. LONGINUS

You rammed your lance into His side

  And out the crimson blood poured;

Startled when it splashed your face,

  You looked up at the crucified Lord.

Later His sacred blood pierced your soul,

  So you knelt down and began to pray;

This gradually led you towards holy freedom,

  To a path that was to become The Way.

Pontius Pilate marveled at your courage,

  For as a martyr you chose to die,

He wondered if what he heard of Jesus

  Might be the truth and not a lie.