Your Favorite Poems

November 25, 2012

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end

He noted that first came her date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,

But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things youâ€™d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider whatâ€™s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like weâ€™ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your lifeâ€™s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

Linda Ellis

December 4, 2012

I came across this poem flipping through a book in the library and thought it was cute:

What Makes Being Catholic Great? A Child's Prayer

What makes being Catholic great?

Lots of little things--

Incense, bells, and candles,

Feathery angel wings,

Stained glass in the morning,

A Rosary to hold tight,

A priest up at the altar

In purple, green, or white.

What makes being Catholic great?

Lots of little things--

Playing with the Christmas crib,

The camels, and the kings,

Staying up for Midnight Mass

Long past the time for bed,

Skipping meat on Fridays

To have grilled cheese instead...

Dressing up like brides and grooms

On First Communion Day,

Making chains of daisies

For Mary's crown in May,

Drawing pictures of the saints

With halos shining bright,

Then helping fill up Noah's ark

With pets that never bite.

What makes being Catholic great?

Lots of big things, too--

Knowing Baby Jesus

Grew up like me and you.

Hearing how he saved us

By dying on the tree,

And now is always with us

As real as you or me...

Reading in the Bible

Good News for every day,

Finding full forgiveness

Those times we disobey,

Having seven sacraments

To mark the road ahead--

Like when a baby's baptized

Or a man and woman wed,

Seeing just one family

In every different face,

Winning life in heaven

To rest in God's embrace.

What makes being Catholic great?

Knowing it's so true

That God is good, and so are we,

And every day's brand new,

That every life's important,

And God loves each the same,

No matter our religion,

Our color, or our name.

I love being Catholic

Every single day!

It's how I show my love for God

In an extra special way.

December 4, 2012

These are from Emmaberrys thread.

To One Hesitant

"The Sisters fast every day except on Sundays and Christmas,

never eat meat, rise at midnight for prayer and meditation, wear

a coarse habit, and always go barefoot."

From: Explanation of the Rule of St. Clare

You wonder

at survival through death-bleached hours,

sere plains, incommiserate sands.

And you are afraid.

Oh! leave those timorous chains

that bind you

in the dark dungeon of age-old compromise!

Unchained, your heart shall dare

these sands unfearing

and oh! a thousand times

will almost find the reason

just there between the sunlight and the silence.

There will be

the sudden leap of longing

in the soul pregnant with faith and hope,

arms outflung without any willing,

singing pain in the heart,

words splintering helplessly,

the whole sky unslung,

star-desolate, moon-empty,

the rumor of Him quivering everywhere.

And when this flash of the reason

is gone

out of hand's grasp,

heart's reach,

furious will's shouting,

the sands will blaze

with gorgeous recall

and plains go quick-cool

beneath the feet.

Recall indeed will fade

but then perhaps

there will be another moment

rocketed out of eternity,

out of reality,

runaway, splendid, sustaining,

when you will almost hold Him

and your hands almost grasp

the reason.

These are the moments

that make for survival;

and one will not end,

being death.

Concerning Affluence

I am the richest one in town

Although they may not know it

Who count their funds and lay aside

Good portions against winter.

I am the richest one on earth,

Unshod I walk to tell it.

All silvered stars are my small coins

For sudden need arising.

I am the richest in the world

Or in the heavens either,

Owning a greater need than all

For God to come and fill it.

December 5, 2012

To live in the midst of the world without wishing its pleasures;

To be a member of each family, yet belonging to none;

To share all sufferings, to penetrate all secrets, to heal all wounds;

To go from men to God and offer Him their prayers;

To return from God to men to bring pardon and hope;

To have a heart of fire for charity and a heart of bronze for chastity;

To teach and to pardon, console and bless, always.

My God, what a life! And it is yours O Priest of Jesus Christ! ~Lacordaire.

December 24, 2012

My forever favorite is called "Patrins," by Sr. Madeleva Wolff, CSC, especially the second stanza. After I looked the title up in the dictionary, it made a lot of sense. For anyone else to whom this is a new word, "patrins" are the signs that native peoples and gypsies left as they traveled, so that those coming after would know where to find them. Sister wrote this as a tribute to a place as well as to the persons with whom she had spent a marvelous summer doing a course.

Yes, I shall leave these patrins as I go : Plucked grasses here, a few blown blossoms there,

To tell you, though I've gone, how much I care.

To tell you also, should you want to know,

The way I've taken, my beloved, so

That you can find me, find me anywhere.

Be still, my heart, you know he does not dare

To follow dreams. Have you no signs to show?

Only the wide, white wonder of the stars,

And strange, lone rest within the arms of dawn,

And love that binds, and truth that sets me free.

The wild and wistful way that I have gone

Leads but to peace. Beloved, follow me!

December 28, 2012

Catholicterp: I love that poem! Reminds me of this image:

Sorry Christina Therese, I forgot I had posted the poem with the Q! The answer is Time. :)

I absolutely love that picture! :love:

Wait by Russell Kelfer

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;

Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.

I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate . . .

And the Master so gently said, "Wait."

"Wait? you say wait?" my indignant reply."

Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!

Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?

By faith I have asked, and I'm claiming your Word.

"My future and all to which I relate

Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to wait?

I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,

Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.

"You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,

We need but to ask, and we shall receive.

And Lord I've been asking, and this is my cry:

I'm weary of asking! I need a reply."

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate,

As my Master replied again, "Wait."

So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,

And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting for what?"

He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine . . .

and He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.

I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.

I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.

"I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.

You'd have what you want, but you wouldn't know Me.

You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint.

You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.

"You'd not learn to see through clouds of despair;

You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there.

You'd not know the joy of resting in Me

When darkness and silence are all you can see.

"You'd never experience the fullness of love

When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.

You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,

But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

"The glow of my comfort late into the night,

The faith that I give when you walk without sight.

The depth that's beyond getting just what you ask

From an infinite God who makes what you have last.

"You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,

What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.

Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,

But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I'm doing in you.

"So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see

That the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.

And though oft My answers seem terribly late,

My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait."

This offering I bring to the Lord

I tried to make it something fit for a king

I tried to make it beautiful

I tried to make it perfect

because I love Him so much

When on my journey

I stumbled and fell

My offering was broken

and my heart was too

When I saw my gift shattered on the ground

I wept at the thought of offering this mess to Him

my king my lord and my love

I wanted to run, I didn't want to give Him this

This was not how it was meant to be

but I knew that I had to do it

I knew there was no way around it

I went to Him only through the courage His love gave me

I gave Him my broken dreams

my shattered plans

and my pain filled heart

As I saw the love in His eyes

and found the courage to let go

the most amazing thing happened

As He touched the pieces of my broken life

I saw an immense bright light

come forth into the cracks

in His hands my offering

my gift becomes perfect

Oh what joyous a transformation love has wrought

The perfect Lover

God in Heaven

in all His perfection

the unworthy beloved

Humanity in all our sin

Out of pure, intense love the Lover is transformed into the beloved

the beloved, overwhelmed with love, cries out in reply and is transformed into the Lover

The total submersion of the whole being into the tender love of God

that is what brings this transformation about

His total love and the hearts total yes

Nothing less then totality will do.

He will accept no partial gift, for He has given no partial gift

He has given all for love, what will the beloved give in return?

What can the heart say but yes

a total transformation occurs

Behold the handmaid of the Lord

Afraid and confused yet trusting in God's great love and power.

She has no way to know how it will work or why she has been chosen

Yet she gives everything to Him in a beautiful surrender

Behold the Man

Beaten and bruised for our sins.

Trembling in agony, limbs hardly strong enough to bear the weight of that poor aching body.

So bloody and bruised He stands before us.

Knowing what must come next, knowing the agonizing pain and sorrow of all the world will soon be on His shoulders

Yet He gives everything in a beautiful surrender

Behold the Lamb of God.

The sacrifice at Calvary continuing still today.

Christ made present, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity for us today.

The non-bloody representation of the atoning acts of Christ.

No more is He bloody and beaten, now we see Him crucified and risen both here in this Eucharist.

Now He is in Heaven a victorious King

Yet He continues to give everything in a beautiful surrender.

Behold myself

Here I stand on the edge.

I am afraid and unsure like Mary.

I am sometimes beaten and bruised by life like Christ

Yet I know that I will be made new in the Eucharist.

I do not know wheree life is going or why He has chosen me but I trust in Him.

I will give everything in a beautiful surrender.

JMJ+ :heart:

January 13, 2013

A segment (I think, but I'm not sure) of a poem from a blog post:

How may I tell you of the thoughts I hold
concealed from men as misers guard their gold,
lest in their speech their beauty like a bird
set free, escape and young new thoughts that stirred
my love to flames grow still and strangely old?

I am the undisputed property
of Him whose wishes I may not deny;
a Lover jealous of my heart, Who fills
the whole of it and in His mastery
withdraws my heart from what is passing by,
and leaves me dreaming of Eternal hills.

January 14, 2013

TREES

by: Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

I think that I shall never see   
A poem lovely as a tree.   
   
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest   
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;   
   
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;   
   
A tree that may in summer wear   
A nest of robins in her hair;   
   
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;   
Who intimately lives with rain. 
   
Poems are made by fools like me,   
But only God can make a tree.

"Trees" was originally published in Trees and Other Poems. Joyce Kilmer. New York: George H. Doran Company, 1914.

May 15, 2013

Bumping this.

Dymphna posted a link to a website with a lot of (or maybe all of?) St. Therese's writings, including this poem:

The Atom of Jesus-Host

(Thoughts of Sr. St. Vincent de Paul put into verse at her request.)

1 I am just a speck of dust,

But I want to make my dwelling

In the shadow of the sanctuary

With the Prisoner of Love.

Ah! my soul longs for the host.

I love him and want nothing more.

It is the hidden God who attracts me.

I am the atom of Jesus...

2 I want to stay not knowing,

In forgetfulness of all created things,

And by my silence console

The Host of the sacred ciborium.

Oh! I would like to save souls,

And make elect from sinners.

Give the flames of an apostle

To your atom, sweet Jesus!....

3 If I am despised by the world,

If it considers me as nothing,

A divine peace floods me.

For I have the host as my support.

When I draw near the ciborium,

All my sighs are heard...

To be nothing is my glory.

I am the atom of Jesus....

4 Sometimes when Heaven is overcast

And this atom cannot take flight,

It loves to hide in the shadow

And attach itself to the golden door.

Then the Divine light,

Which makes all the elect rejoice,

Comes to earth to warm up

This poor atom of Jesus...

5 Under the warm rays of grace,

The atom sparkles.

When the light breeze passes by,

It gently sways...

Oh! what ineffable delight!

What favors has it not received?...

Right next to the host slips

The poor atom of Jesus...

6 Pining away near the host

In the tabernacle of love,

Thus my life will be spent

While waiting for the last day.

When our trials will be over,

Flying to the dwelling of the elect,

The atom of the Eucharist

Will shine near her Jesus!...

It came from this page: http://www.archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=60&Itemid=814

May 19, 2013

One of my favourite poems ever: http://www.passionistnuns.org/blog/poetry/poetry-of-st-paul-of-the-cross/

May 19, 2013

dp...

Edited May 19, 2013 by MarysLittleFlower

May 19, 2013

St Therese's poems :)

http://archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1114&Itemid=118

I've always loved this one: http://www.ourgardenofcarmel.org/yourcross.html

"Your Cross", by St Francis de Sales.

May 19, 2013

What I love

What I love, once said St. Francis of Sales
In his graceful language,
More than all the treasures that this world lays out,
More than all the treasures of heaven:

Yes, what I love more than the flower that is mirrored
On the edge of the transparent waters,
More than the breeze sighs,
More than the sublime flight and the songs of birds,

More than the flood followed by the flood that wipes it off
And itâ€™s whisper that puts me to sleep,
More than the stars, gold glows
Hatched in the fields of wonderful spaces

More than a light casting in the heart of the wicked
Fortunate and strong alarms,
More than the blue eyes of a child
Smiling through his tears,

More than the golden lamp whose light
Radiates in the back of the sanctuary,
More than the sweetest moments of ecstasy and prayer
Spent in the presence of the Lord

More than the Paradise where my soul flies
The Heaven where God awaits me,
And more than the secrets of his Holy Word
That my heart hears in the silence

More than His gentle smile and even His grace
Always radiant, glowing everywhere,
What I love, finally, what I love:
Is the Will of God.

Translation from http://www.icrsp.org...FR-DE-SALES.htm

This poem is incredible...

May 19, 2013

A lone young shepherd lived in pain
withdrawn from pleasure and contentment,
his thoughts fixed on a shepherd-girl
his heart an open wound with love.

He weeps, but not from the wound of love,
there is no pain in such affliction,
even though the heart is pierced;
he weeps in knowing heâ€™s been forgotten.

That one thought: his shining one
has forgotten him, is such great pain
that he bows to brutal handling in a foreign land,
his heart an open wound of love.

The shepherd says: I pity the one
who draws herself back from my love
and does not seek the joy of my presence,
though my heart is an open wound with love for her.

After a long time he climbed a tree,
and spread his shining arms,
and hung by them, and died,
his heart an open wound with love.

~ St. John of the Cross
http://www.passionistnuns.org/blog/poetry/poetry-of-bridegroom-bride/

Edited May 19, 2013 by MarysLittleFlower

May 19, 2013

Lo, there He hangs

-Ashened figure pinioned against the wood.

God grant that I might love Him

Even as I should.

I draw a little closer

To feel His love divine,

And Hear Him gently whisper,

â€œAh, precious child of mine -

If now I should embrace you,

My hands would stain you red,

And if I leaned to whisper,

My thorns would pierce your head.â€

â€˜Twas there I learned in sorrow

That love demands a price;

â€˜Twas then I learned that suffering is but the kiss of Christ.

~ Trappist monk

http://www.passionistnuns.org/blog/poetry/poetry-inside-the-passion/

Edited May 19, 2013 by MarysLittleFlower

May 19, 2013

Here is a poem that I wrote after making my Total Consecration in 2009... I'm far from a poet (as you can see from the lack of structure) but the words came very easily and I know there are others here who have made the Consecration too :)

Prayer to the Queen of Heaven

In Thanksgiving for my Total Consecration to Jesus through Mary, on June 27th, 2009.

I. Mother, this day is a secret.

see how well I hide it.

I walk through these streets,

see how ordinary I am.

people pass me by,

they do not suspect... the world does not know.

sun turns to twilight, the clock ticks,

with every step I come closer.

only a little further

there is the steeple, the cross...

the familiar little church.

there is my Love hidden.

do You hear my heart beating?

there You wait for me,

ready to take my heart.

You have captured me!

II. O Mother, dare I say these words.

You see all the Angels listen.

the court of Heaven is silent.

I have only but a moment,

I dare not hesitate.

O Holy Angels, help me!

the Queen of Heaven is my Mother,

and I come poor, dressed in rags.

how poor is my heart.

my Jesus, does this please You?

oh, tell me, please speak!

III. Lovely Lady,

I see your beauty and I'm speechless.

I see your purity and I'm dust.

You have a crown of stars like diamonds,

and the moon is under your feet.

O cover me with your mantle.

Your Heart is radiant,

let all darkness flee.

see how fearful I am.

the enemy of my soul pursues me

he is almost at the door,

he taunts me with my sin.

this day is like no other,

and I have no courage.

let me only say your name,

and I will live.

O Mary, Mary!

how lovely is your name.

I will write it out with jewels,

I will sing it with the Angels.

You fill my heart with joy.

IV. Blessed Mother, receive these roses,

formed in the depths of my heart.

each rose, a Hail Mary.

fervently I prayed them,

to proclaim you blessed.

they are not like the roses of the Saints

their fragrance less heavenly,

their colours less brilliant.

and they barely resemble roses at all.

they grew in a dark valley,

far from the sun.

i carried them here with utmost care,

yet - how I wish to give you a greater gift!

V. Oh Mary, what sweetness!

raise me from the ground,

hold me trembling to your Heart.

speak tenderly to me.

i look into your eyes,

and forget the things of earth.

Jesus,

Your love is my priceless treasure, my bliss.

Kind, gentle Mother,

how long must I wait?

May 19, 2013

"Divine Wisdom, I love Thee unto folly.
I am Thy lover.
Thou alone in this world I seek,
Thou alone I desire.
I am a man gone mad with love,
Forever chasing Thee.
Tell me who Thou art,
For I am half blind.
I can discern only
That Thou art a secret I must fathom.
Show Thyself fully to my soul
Which dies for love of Thee.
Where dost Thou live,
Wisdom Divine?
Must I cross continents or seas
To find Thee,
Or fly across the skies?
I am ready to go wherever Thou art,
Not counting the costs, to possess Thee."

St Louis de Montfort

(from preface to True Devotion)

May 19, 2013

I adore poetry - it is so much like praying. Here are a couple of my favorites though...

SONNET 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

- William Shakespeare

----------------------------

And also this one by a Carmelite nun

Somebody Else

Somebody Else had a heavier cross,

Than the one I bear today,

And the path were far too steep for me,

Had not Somebody led the way.

Somebody Else had a sadder heart

Than the weary one in my breast,

Somebodyâ€™s aching thorn crowned Head

Had nowhere to lie in rest.

Somebody Elseâ€™s tired Hands

And Somebodyâ€™s wounded Feet,

Were never too weary to minister

And somebodyâ€™s smile was sweet.

Somebodyâ€™s Head was bent

Not with the weight of years,

And the light in somebodyâ€™s beautiful Eyes

Was dimmed by many tears.

Somebody elseâ€™s love was spent

And tears were wept in vain,

Shall I then count my weeping lost

Or grudge a little pain?

Somebody Else was left alone

Beneath an olive tree,

And nobody cared for Somebody Else

More than they do for me.

But away past lifeâ€™s dull gloaming

Across the crystal sea,

Somebody Else and I shall love

For all eternity.

August 21, 2013

Bump.

August 21, 2013

Gerard Manley Hopkins!!!!!!!

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springsâ€”
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

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