A Prayer Of Distraught

It’s been awhile since I’ve composed poetry, so here it is:

You mother of God, who’s perfect in every way;
rich in compassion and rich in humility.
Please listen to my prayer sent to you this day
as I slowly lose patience and charity.

I am saddened, dear Mother, as tears run down my face
and as my faith crumbles to dust.
My mind so confused in absence of grace,
and my heart knows no one else to trust,

My hands thumb through your rosary
while my lips recite those familiar words.
Yet I know not what it is I carry
and none of those words my soul heard.

Dear Mother, blessed woman among women;
even the pearls of the deep confess this.
And the angels of God sing of your greatness
as you enjoy your place in Eternal Bliss.

Look upon me then with mercy and love;
with tenderness from your place in eternity;
With a sweetness of that grace from up above
and help bring my confusion to clarity.

You must remember, dear Mother,
your own confusion when Gabriel delivered the word.
So grant me strength now, dear Mother
To make sense of a life so blurred.

Oh dear woman, Queen of the angels,
Come to me now and be by my side
And all these knots in life, please help untangle
And wipe away all these tears I’ve cried.



A Reason and A Poem

My apologies for not posting anything lately as I have been tied up with some house projects as well as writing a fairly lengthy paper for a class that I’m currently taking.  However, as I was doing some research for my paper, I stumbled across an interesting piece of knowledge that I did not know before: that G.K. Chesterton composed poetry.  Needless to say, I had to seek out some of his compositions, and here I share with you one of his compositions.

A Marriage Song

Why should we reck of hours that rend
       While we two ride together?
     The heavens rent from end to end
       Would be but windy weather,
     The strong stars shaken down in spate
       Would be a shower of spring,
     And we should list the trump of fate
       And hear a linnet sing.

     We break the line with stroke and luck,
       The arrows run like rain,
     If you be struck, or I be struck,
       There's one to strike again.
     If you befriend, or I befriend,
       The strength is in us twain,
     And good things end and bad things end,
       And you and I remain.

     Why should we reck of ill or well
       While we two ride together?
     The fires that over Sodom fell
       Would be but sultry weather.
     Beyond all ends to all men given
       Our race is far and fell,
     We shall but wash our feet in heaven,
       And warm our hands in hell.

     Battles unborn and vast shall view
       Our faltered standards stream,
     New friends shall come and frenzies new.
       New troubles toil and teem;
     New friends shall pass and still renew
       One truth that does not seem,
     That I am I, and you are you,
       And Death a morning dream.

     Why should we reck of scorn or praise
       While we two ride together?
     The icy air of godless days
       Shall be but wintry weather.
     If hell were highest, if the heaven
       Were blue with devils blue,
     I should have guessed that all was even,
       If I had dreamed of you.

     Little I reck of empty prides,
       Of creeds more cold than clay;
     To nobler ends and longer rides,
       My lady rides to-day.
     To swing our swords and take our sides
       In that all-ending fray
     When stars fall down and darkness hides,
       When God shall turn to bay.

     Why should we reck of grin and groan
       While we two ride together?
     The triple thunders of the throne
       Would be but stormy weather.
     For us the last great fight shall roar,
       Upon the ultimate plains,
     And we shall turn and tell once more
       Our love in English lanes.

The Kingdom of God

I woke up this morning with the line “the angels keep their ancient places, turn but a stone, and start a wing”.  I’m not sure how these lines got into my head since I’ve not thought of Francis Thompson‘s poem The Kingdom of God for awhile now.  But since it is in my head, I’m going to share his wonderful composition with you.  Also, if you’re wondering who Francis Thompson is, he is the author of The Hound of Heaven.

The Kingdom of God

O WORLD invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!

Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air—
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumour of thee there?

Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!—
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.

The angels keep their ancient places;—
Turn but a stone, and start a wing!
‘Tis ye, ‘tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendoured thing.

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry;—and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob’s ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry,—clinging Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water
Not of Gennesareth, but Thames!

Her Everything


In honor of Mother’s Day, here is a composition for my mother:

When they cried, she comforted them in her arms.
When it was cold outside, her hugs kept them warm.
When they learned how to walk, she was there by their side.
When they learned to reason, she taught them wrong from right.
When they learned to write, she helped them hold their pens.
When they learned to count, she counted to ten with them.
When they first went to school, she walked and held their hands.
In everything they do, she was their biggest fan.
When they were rejected, she was always their friend.
When they experienced happiness, her joy for them was greater than.
When they went to college, she called them everyday.
When they fell and crumbled, she believed in them in every way.
She loves them dearly and more than life itself;
they always came before everything, even before herself.
And her love for them will persist until summer gives way to spring
because she is their mother and they are her everything.

To the DCHS Class of 2013

To the class that loves to serve others, I commend thee
To the class that loves its faith, I admire thee
To the class filled with Christian faith, I love thee
To the class of 2013, I salute thee!

We started at Dowling in 2009 together
And have progressed together through the years
Enjoyed great successes and a tragedy suffered
Had many laughs and Kairos-ed a few tears

And not when the Bous man banned yoga pants
Did you ever give up the good fight
But wearing yoga pants you shan’t
And I still think Dean Bous is right

The facebook page holds its meme-etic place
I got first lunch and Mass ran late
A girl with hand and tears on her face
To show the angst of a lunch-line wait

But when you thought time couldn’t go slower
When you sit within those classroom walls
The years have passed and time seems faster
And these will be the last days you trot through these halls

So the time has come to pass, my dear friends
For you to move on to bigger and better things
Please keep alive the faith and never let it end
And remember that you are all children of the King

So to the class that loves to serve others, I commend thee
To the class that loves its faith, I admire thee
To the class filled with Christian faith, I love thee
To the class of 2013, I salute thee!


An Iowan’s Lament In May

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, oh summer, were no crime
I could sit back and think which way
To enjoy and pass your long hot days
I could enjoy your glorious warm mornings
And all the peace that your nights bring
We could grill out and relax at the park
Until the sun gives way and day turns dark
Or we could run about the sands at the lake
Until our feet and lungs do ache

But reality has it, you’re nowhere in sight
For I woke up this morning to grounds cover in white

Half A Moon

The day has gone
And night came soon
But I only found
Half of a moon

Sounds from the deep
Echo the sad tune
As I stand and stare
At half of a moon

Your voice I hear
A lullaby croon
Like we once embraced
Under this half of a moon

I was once young and restless
No more than a goon
But I grew in your embrace
Under that half of a moon

But once you departed
I turned to a loon
Day after day looking
At a half of a moon

So why did you go
Early that one June?
Leaving behind
This half of a moon

The chair has been kicked
And breath runs out soon
Forever I’ll remember you
And this half of a moon…