I guess now that I think back, I used to play priest and be a funny priest. I don't know, I grew up in such a Catholic family that I kind of liked to test the boundaries a little bit and I think I had fun watching my mom laugh.

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Life of a Roman Catholic Priest

A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.

A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.

A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!

A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.

A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!

A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!

Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.

Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai

Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010

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Interesting enough, we had a reunion of the 12 of us who graduated, right? The only one who wasn't there was the guy who became a priest, and he was literally in prison in Libya, for being a Catholic priest. Isn't that interesting? Everybody else made the reunion but that guy.

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It's Kind of Funny

It's kind of funny how those who want life get it taken away,
while those who loathe it wander around.
Almost as if a waste.

It's kind of funny how those who try to do right get it spit back in their face.
The bad walk among us as if to be common people.
They, they get your respect.

It's kind of funny the people you love, they're usually the fall of you.
They say they're there for you but always somehow make you feel worthless.

It's kind of funny how everything can end so fast.
Everything can just disappear.

It's kind of funny how I wish I never met you.
I wish I could tell you.
I wish we could be.
And I wish that everything wasn't so funny and that everything could be what it is.

It's kind of funny how me and you,
we don't matter.

What I say and do will always be funny to you.

It's no longer funny.

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Confessing Sins

when guilt is full
there comes a time when we think of
the possibility of confessing our sins,
the usual sins of omissions
more than our sins of commissions,

to a friend perhaps, but you doubt
for he has more sins than you have
and it might as well end
on the reverse, you the listening tree
and he the barking dog,

or perhaps to a religious group but
you shy away because of their number
and you might as well at the end be the
subject of their gossip
in town for a week or so,

and so you become a catholic again
on a Sunday before your parish priest
you kneel down and confess your sins,
and your dismay the priest says,
'
my son these are not sins anymore
under the new doctrines
with an ending, don't worry my boy
you'll do penance just the same
say three our fathers and three hail Mary's
and don't come back

your sins are the same as mine'

what comfort is this, when sins are confessed
to a person on the same misery and guilt as we are.

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At The Confessional Box...

there is this boy
who looks like me when i was once a boy like him

who as taught by the priests
of the catholic schools have to be on a regular confession
inside that box where the priests
listens....

(Father i have sinned, i have not gone to confession
for a week and these are my sins...repeat, repeat, repeat,
and the priest, perhaps tired and
bored says...

my little son, say three hail marys, five our fathers, and 2 glory bes
and if you have time

write a poem) .

and so the poems since then were written.
the boy did not stop to live within that confessional box
the priest died
earlier than expected.

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I'm Funny

I am fuuny
thats who am i
I am funny
Make u laugh n cry
I am funny
Do funny things
I am funny
I like to play with strings
I am funny
And i don't care
I look funny in my underwear
It's funny that im funny
Thats what i like to be
So lets be funny together
Be funny like me

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I studied with the idea of becoming a Catholic priest.

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Dad Thanks Again

It is thirteen years today
since you sent me on the
home depot mission
gone only twenty minutes
well thanks for not shooting
me when you turned that
shotgun on your self it was hard
getting the Catholic priest
to give you mass
but you are situated proper now
not burning hot inside the box as you thought.
Thanks for your car, condo, stocks, bonds, most of
all thanks for paying off those credit cards before.
I grew up to be just like you....well almost.

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Thats Not Really Funny

Did you think that I would laugh when you said I was small
Did you think that that would pass as if nothing at all
You say a lot of funny things, my little bunny
And I almost always laugh, but thats not really funny
You play the little bells and tell a good story
You bake delicious pie and thats enough for me
But I dont think that Im your man, and youre my little honey
And I like what you have to say, but thats not really funny
You must not continue to wear my ? ? like me
The neighbour children threw the window to the sea
The little boy will wipe his nose bacause its runny
Then point at me and laugh, but thats not really funny

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I have decided: Finally.

My family donated me to mother church, a priest to be.
Because no one consulted me, I had no chance to disagree.
So in due course I was ordained and found I’d lost more than I gained
The church had educated me. I’d won a double first degree
My parents did what they thought best they acted in my interest.
There was no way I could protest. Though I must say I’m not impressed with the way that things were done and recently I have begun.
To realise resentfully my future was mapped out for me.
I am expected to repress the normal feelings I possess.
A problem which all priests address. I am a man no more no less.
I am quite certain that I would not have chosen the priesthood.
I have decided that I should quit the priesthood and for good
The practice of celibacy seems quite unnatural to me.
I am convinced a priest should be free to have a family.
The church has made a grave mistake expecting every priest to take
A vow which causes so much heart ache. I must resign: Make a clean break.
To earn my living honestly in some profession where I’m free
To wed and raise a family. Celibacy is not for me.

Monday,26 April 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

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In 1953 there were two ways for an Irish Catholic boy to impress his parents: become a priest or attend Notre Dame.

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I have to say that I have no regrets about my decision to become a priest or about the major directions my ministry has taken me... I have been and am happy as a priest, and I have never been lonely... I could have used a bit more solitude.

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I trained to be a priest - started to. I went to seminary school when I was 11. I wanted to be a priest, but when they told me I could never have sex, not even on my birthday, I changed my mind.

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The task of a priest, in some respects, may be different today, but the principles upon which Herbert built his life as a priest are of universal application.

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I Remember You Saying

I am sure you forgot your words

'There were three things
I wanted to become when I was a child

a soldier
a priest
a poet'

You became a priest
with three minds
in one body

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Maryknoll

Women priests are not allowed no matter how loud they scream,
They fired one priest already for going along with their dream,
So the Catholic Church takes this serious and no women priests allowed,
Though some priests may have been pedophiles; this is never said out loud.

Some Maryknoll fathers and brothers liked this women-priest notion,
They didn't realize this idea would cause such a commotion,
Though the Church of England has had women priests for years,
And some of them may one day be bishops without many fears.

I don't know much about this whole religious painful affair,
But I think it's time for a change in the real world out there,
This is the twenty first century with the Internet all around,
Not the fifteenth century where we had to knuckle down.

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The verger

the verger
-amiable
wears a white top
rights the lady chapel

The Catholic priest
- ingenue
Smiles at his flock
Clutches the Silver

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At the Tavern

A lilt and a swing,
And a ditty to sing,
Or ever the night grow old;
The wine is within,
And I'm sure t'were a sin
For a soldier to choose to be cold, my dear,
For a soldier to choose to be cold.
We're right for a spell,
But the fever is -- well,
No thing to be braved, at least;
So bring me the wine;
No low fever in mine,
For a drink more kind than a priest, my dear,
For a drink is more kind than a
priest.

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A Girl Named Fred

Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf IX. -- Thangbrand The Priest

Short of stature, large of limb,
Burly face and russet beard,
All the women stared at him,
When in Iceland he appeared.
'Look!' they said,
With nodding head,
'There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.'

All the prayers he knew by rote,
He could preach like Chrysostome,
From the Fathers he could quote,
He had even been at Rome,
A learned clerk,
A man of mark,
Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

He was quarrelsome and loud,
And impatient of control,
Boisterous in the market crowd,
Boisterous at the wassail-bowl,
Everywhere
Would drink and swear,
Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest

In his house this malcontent
Could the King no longer bear,
So to Iceland he was sent
To convert the heathen there,
And away
One summer day
Sailed this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

There in Iceland, o'er their books
Pored the people day and night,
But he did not like their looks,
Nor the songs they used to write.
'All this rhyme
Is waste of time!'
Grumbled Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

To the alehouse, where he sat
Came the Scalds and Saga-men;
Is it to be wondered at,
That they quarrelled now and then,
When o'er his beer
Began to leer
Drunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest?

All the folk in Altafiord
Boasted of their island grand;
Saying in a single word,
'Iceland is the finest land
That the sun
Doth shine upon!'
Loud laughed Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

And he answered: 'What's the use
Of this bragging up and down,
When three women and one goose
Make a market in your town!'
Every Scald
Satires drawled
On poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Something worse they did than that;
And what vexed him most of all
Was a figure in shovel hat,
Drawn in charcoal on the wall;
With words that go
Sprawling below,
'This is Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.'

Hardly knowing what he did,
Then he smote them might and main,
Thorvald Veile and Veterlid
Lay there in the alehouse slain.
'To-day we are gold,
To-morrow mould!'
Muttered Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Much in fear of axe and rope,
Back to Norway sailed he then.
'O King Olaf! little hope
Is there of these Iceland men!'
Meekly said,
With bending head,
Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

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