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. 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?

FALLING

At the Last Supper,

Judas left you.

He betrayed you.

But don’t we

Betray you too? -- 

When we make excuses,

And skip the prayers,

And skip the masses,

And skip the Eucharist?

For then we are falling,

Down, down, down,

Headlong towards

The open-throated

Abyss of doom

Which vomits forth

The flames of folly.

Instead, let us

Return to Him, 

Our Father of Love,

To make a fresh

New start to our

Broken lives,

Let us fall

To our knees

And surrender to Him,

Let us fall

Into His loving arms

And embrace Him,

Let us fall,

Fall in love with Him,

Down in adoration falling.

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 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. 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.

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 for all people -- even Samaritan and Roman --

  He humbly died in that Crucifixion Hour;

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

  Now everlastingly and eternally reigns.

TO ST. THOMAS THE APOSTLE

The Christ was cruelly crucified in

  that tumultuous Passover season,

So your life was shattered and shaken,

  and you surrendered to the god of Reason;

You started to sound like a practical pagan,

  and not like a Christian apostle,

For you to believe Jesus rose from the dead,

  it would take a miracle very colossal.

The other apostles saw Jesus alive,

  and that’s why their faces turned pale,

But to you this sounded like a stupid story,

  like a fantastical fairy tale;

With stony sarcasm you scoffed at them,

  and you told them you needed proof,

Without some truly indisputable facts,

  it seemed like an apostolic goof.

But a week later you were with them

  as He walked right through the wall,

Your dark eyes now twinkled in the Light,

  and tears of faith began to fall;

Then you looked closer at Jesus’ flesh,

  and it was ripped by a Roman lance,

So you crumbled to your knees in humility,

  and you melted in His merciful glance.

Your soul had dried up in the desert of reason,

  with troubling doubts all around,

But now in this flash flood of Living Water,

  they very, very quickly drowned;

You then became the apostle of India,

  as your journeys led to the East,

Helping many people find their way,

  to the Heavenly wedding feast.

THE CHRISTMAS STAR IN THE DARK NIGHT

When our lives turn black

As night, and we are lost

And don’t know where to turn,

We lose our sense of direction

And wonder where our journey

Is taking us, but there is

No need to worry, for all we

Need to do is follow The Star,

The sparkling Christmas Star,

For she is peacefully waiting,

Waiting to sweetly embrace 

And caress each one of us,

From the depths of her heart,

And she is shining with a 

Dazzling brilliance that is

Wonderful to behold,

She quietly and calmly

Leads us to her Son,

For her magnificent Son is

The Most Holy Sun of Love,

The King of the Universe.

THE CIRCLE OF GENTLENESS

“...I am gentle and humble of heart…” — Jesus, The Divine Mercy

Fear is the root of all sin:

Fear leads to arrogance,

Arrogance leads to selfishness,

Selfishness leads to violence;

But, on the other hand, 

Gentleness leads to wonder,

Gentleness leads to gratitude,

Gentleness leads to thanksgiving,

Gentleness leads to surrender,

Gentleness leads to littleness,

Gentleness leads to humility,

Gentleness leads to compassion,

Gentleness leads to kindness,

Gentleness leads to love,

And then, coming full circle, 

Perfect love casts out all fear.

TO ST. BARTHOLOMEW

With smug sarcasm you doubted Philip:

  the Christ from Nazareth could not come;

Philip’s words just sounded impossible,

  and he didn’t believe his Bethsaidan chum.

Smiling softly, this Jesus said that

  He had seen you under the fig tree;

Your spiritual eyes suddenly opened,

  And the true Messiah did you finally see. 

You saw Lazarus slowly lurch forward,

  as he stepped out of his rocky grave;

This was one of many amazing miracles

  that in the end your soul did save.

Years later, you screeched and screamed in pain

  as your sordid killers skinned you alive;

But now your bright eyes see Heavenly glory

   where for eternity you very happily thrive.

TO ST. JAMES THE GREATER, THE APOSTLE

You were a son of Zebedee and Salome,

  And brother of John the Apostle,

Though your fishing boat was very reliable,

  It was definitely nothing colossal;

Were you a fiery fisherman from Galilee?

  For Jesus called you a son of thunder,

If so, then did your anger flare in the boat

  When your brother committed a blunder?

You saw Jesus rise at the Ascension,

  And it stirred in you a most pious desire,

Then within your breast burned a glorious zeal

  Which brightly glowed like a holy fire;

But King Herod Agrippa persecuted Christians,

  And he just wanted them to go away,

He thought that killing a respected apostle

  Would make them cease to pray.

It’s very true that King Herod seemed

  Like the most vile and pernicious slug,

He was very much like his grandpa,

  Who killed the holy innocents like a thug;

His wretched grandfather was selfish,

  The very violent Herod the Great,

Who savagely slaughtered the babes of

  Bethlehem in his beastly ire and hate.

Being a member of Jesus’ inner circle,

  You had a target on your back,

The giant executioner grunted, as he

  Chopped off your head with a whack;

You became the first apostolic martyr,

  Way back in the year A.D. forty-four,

But Jesus waited with a beaming smile,

  As you opened that Heavenly door.

TO ST. JAMES THE LESSER, THE APOSTLE

You were the first bishop of Jerusalem,

  And were known as James the Just,

Since you were a relative of Jesus,

  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 club broke your bones,

But you uttered prayers for your attackers,

  In between your painful groans.

TO ST. PHILIP THE APOSTLE

Maybe like Falstaff you were a “practical” man,

  It’s even possible that from danger you ran;

Perhaps you were very timid and shy,

  Then Jesus called you to life on high;

Did you fear the Holy Spirit’s fire?

  If so, even introverts God can inspire!

In Bethsaida born and in Phrygia killed,

  Even the meek God’s kingdom can build.

TO ST. JUDE THADDEUS THE APOSTLE

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.

THE STARTING PITCHER IN THE DARK NIGHT

San Padre Pio: “Lord, give me my weapon.”

When I squeezed the rosary with my

Tense fingers, my soul was bone dry;

I pitched too fast, in a hurry to get the

Game over with as soon as possible.

I pitched my prayers with fear, and they

Wildly eluded the spiritual strike zone;

I needed you, Madonnina, to teach me how

To more effectively pray the most holy rosary.

You taught me to pray in the Holy Spirit:

Sweet spiraling curveballs in holy contemplation,

Swift sparkling fastballs in holy meditation,

Soft swirling knuckleballs in holy resignation.

So I’m learning to pitch my prayers with

Sincere love, for all nine innings,

And you, my darling catcher, faithfully

Bring my prayers to The Divine Mercy.

THE MAGNIFICENT SEA OF MERCY

A cross of darkness

Suddenly pulls me down,

And I collapse to my knees,

Crushed under its weight;

How long will it last?

Why can I not see The Light?

Where is the Great Dove?

He is here – I know it;

I struggle to find Him,

But I trust in Him,

Yet these words seem empty

When I am throttled by the

Frigid fingers of Fear;

So I slow down, I slow down,

And breathe in The Spirit,

Who refreshes my soul,

Then, little by little, the words

Start to sink in, they make

Sense, and behold I find that

I trust, I really do trust in Him;

And, steadied by this newfound

Faith, I embrace the cross,

Knowing that as I finally enter

The Magnificent Sea of Mercy,

The cross will melt and dissolve,

In the blood of The Lamb,

And I will rest in the arms of

The Lord of Divine Mercy.

THE CIRCLE OF PATIENCE

“Patience is the companion of wisdom” – St. Augustine of Hippo

Fear is the root of all sin:

Fear leads to impatience,

Impatience leads to all vice;

But, on the other hand, 

Patience leads to self-control,

Patience leads to gentleness,

Patience leads to faithfulness,

Patience leads to generosity,

Patience leads to kindness,

Patience leads to peace,

Patience leads to joy,

Patience leads to love,

And then, coming full circle,

Perfect love casts out all fear.

TO ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE

Son of Thunder, you requested that Jesus

  Revengefully rain down ferocious flames,

You wanted to get back at those fools from

  Samaria who wouldn’t welcome Him;

But your fisherman’s soul was softened

  By the Savior, as Love taught you to love,

You were transformed by the Transfiguration,

  And you soon became the Apostle of Light.

During the Last Supper, you leaned on Love,

  And, alarmed, asked Him about the traitor,

Then, later, you saw the wondrous wounds

  Of Love wash away the world’s guilt;

He gave you His Most Blessed Mother,

  And you cared for her with holy compassion,

You, the Beloved Disciple, bravely and

  Courageously taught us obedience.

You were the miraculous martyr who

  Survived a bubbling, boiling cauldron of oil,

Then the Roman Emperor Domitian

  Egregiously exiled you to the isle of Patmos;

Hideous heresies denied Christ’s divinity,

  So you wrote a glorious gospel to refute them,

You were the mild mystic, the peaceful preacher,

  And the unforgettable Apostle of Love.

TO ST. ANDREW THE APOSTLE

Your mariner’s heart hungers to know the truth,

  And your saltwater soul is satisfied with John’s words;

But the brave Baptist has spoken of a greater one,

  And you are thinking about what he will be like;

You hope that he will be the promised messiah,

  Who will handily harpoon and sink the Romans;

And you hope he will be the holy and majestic king,

  Who will restore peace and prosperity to his people.

One morning the Baptist paternally points towards the

  Shore of the Jordan, at the fearless Fisher of Men;

Your eager eyes are alert as you race after Jesus,

  With sweat dripping from your shaggy beard;

As you reach him, he turns and smiles at you with warm,

  Welcoming eyes, and your heart is mystically awakened;

It feels like a beautiful balmy breeze is sweetly caressing

  The sails of your fisherman’s soul.