Day is like day as two beads in a rosary, unless changes of weather form the only variety.
quote by Henryk Sienkiewicz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Rain
Today
I'd like to be a nun
And go and say
My rosary beneath the trees out there.
In this shy sun
The raindrops look like silver beads of prayer.
So blest
Am I, I'd like to tell
God and the rest
Of heaven-dwellers in the garden there
All that befell
Last week. Such gossip is as good as prayer.
Ah well!
I have, since I'm no nun,
No beads to tell,
And being happy must be all my prayer.
Yet 'twould be fun
To walk with God 'neath the wet trees out there.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Rosary
Ring a Ring no Rosary
Standing in a row
Waiting for the hand to fall
God's children take a bow.
Ring a Ring no rosary
Shadow at the door
Sweat around his puffed up neck
Pain upon the floor.
Ring a Ring no Rosary
A whispered word to God
Judies, where's your mercy
From the stripping and the rod.
Ring a Ring no Rosary
Wipe away the tear.
Stained and dirty fingers
Garbing at my years.
Ring a Ring no Rosary
Now the pain is done
Christ upon his alter
Disciples in my Tomb.
poem by Alan Halford
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The Marian Holy Rosary
A crown of roses for her head;
A rose-garland for heaven’s queen;
A heap of rose-petals for feet,
That’s what the Rosary’s about.
The queen of beauteous flowers –Rose,
Whose perfume tickles any nose!
What hues and sizes grow on earth!
Give them to Mary, full of mirth.
St. Dominic was first to get,
The rosary when he had met
Our Lady of the Rosary,
Lord Jesus Christ’s Mother Mary!
The string of beads stands for prayers –
A magic blend for all sayers;
Just pray with meaning, mind steadfast,
To get the mother’s blessings vast!
A lovely weapon against foes;
A contemplation ’midst our woes;
Reciting it, we earn graces,
And win life’s spiritual races.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-30-2009
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: On Praying the Rosary
Recite the rosary all through your life;
Witness its miraculous powers with time;
Just cruise with ease through earthly problems, strife;
Experience life divine that’s more sublime!
Implant the ‘crown of roses’ in your soul,
As satan’s poison weeds all vanish fast;
Receive all favours from Christ and new role
Including forgiveness for sins of past!
The Virgin’s womb gave mankind, Savior Lord;
All say the rosary for peace on earth;
Convert the atheist’s, sinner’s hearts to God;
Amend your lives to heaven’s Will from birth!
While fingers touch the beads divine and pray,
God’s love enflames the righteous souls His way!
Most lovingly dedicated to ‘Our Lady of The Rosary’
On her feast today
Copyright By Dr John Celes 08-10-11
poem by John Celes
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Nutcrackers crack cedar seeds, monks crack rosary beads.
Every Woman II... For William O Everson
every woman
I make no judgement
large small fat thin
old, young
though not too young
(I am an old man)
I accept as a beautiful landscape
a work of art to reach
to touch
to be gazed upon
every woman
a rosary I wish to pray
a set of beads I wish to tell
with aching fingers...
a sacred set of mysteries
every woman
a beautiful field I wish to roll in
a field of flowers
of mown hay
a harvest to be taken in for winter
every woman
a warm summer pond to lie into
to be held caressed
every gully every turn
a new sense of wonder
still
every woman a rosary
sacred silent deep
an offering from God
to God a whisper
of a promise
poem by R. James Sterzinger
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Whenever I Pray the Holy Rosary:
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
My woes all vanish into air;
My foes disappear and don’t dare.
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
Miracles happen more with ease;
God answers my prayers and pleas.
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
My world becomes rosy again;
My life becomes a boon, not bane.
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
God helps me well in life to cope;
God consoles me and gives new hope.
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
My sinful habits vanish fast;
My soul gets filled with grace at last.
Whenev’r I pray the Holy Rosary:
My trials vanish, one by one;
My works God-bless’d are fully done.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-5-2008
poem by John Celes
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These Things.
These things are sent to try us,
Gran said, her thumb
Moving itself over
The well-worn beads
Of her dark wood rosary;
Her eyes taking in the crucifix
On the wall above her bed.
You sat watching her thumb
Moving its way back and forth
Over the round black beads,
Her arthritic fingers clutching
Blue blankets and white sheet.
Never tries us beyond our strength,
She added, the strained features
Mingling with the yellow taint
Of wrinkled skin. You wondered
Who sent the things to try her,
Whose bounty of gifts left
Small tears wedged in the corners
Of her eyes, pushed out words
Between harsh sighs.
poem by Terry Collett
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Mother's Talk
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
We can work it out
It's not that you're not good enough
It's just that we can make you better
Given that you pay the price
We can keep you young and tender
Following in the footsteps of a funeral pyre
You were paid not listen now your house is on fire
Wake me up when things get started
When everything starts to happen
My features form with a change in the weather
Some of us horrified
Others never talk about it
But when the weather starts to burn
Then you'll know that you're in trouble
Following in the footsteps of a soldier girl
It is time to put your clothes on and to face the world
Don't you feel your luck is changing
When everything starts to happen
Put your head right next to my heart
The beat of the drum is the fear of the dark
My features form with a change in the weather
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Songs From The Big Chair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skipping Stones
for Ruth Stone
prayer beads
stars in hand
rosary of smooth stones
for a throwing child
old man's memory
skips
across pond
quiet shadows
It is I and Thou
oh difficult Lover
O Universe
It is I and Thou
poem by Warren Falcon
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A Song to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Above the ocean, stands a star –
In human form and feminine;
She carries in her hands, a babe –
The Son of God, the King divine!
She calls us all to pray with her –
For conversion of heathen souls;
She tells the rosary is one –
That saves sinners from going to hell.
The baby boy with her is Christ –
Who died upon the cross for us;
He is the light and way and truth –
Through Him we go to heaven’s bliss.
So, pray the rosary, will you?
No harm can ever befall you;
The Virgin Mary can help you
To keep your soul in grace, sin-free.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-31-2009
poem by John Celes
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Mothers Talk
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
My features form with a change in the weather
Weekend
We can work it out
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the mothers talk
When the wind blows
We can work it out
Its not that youre not good enough
Its just that we can make you better
Given that you pay the price
We can keep you young and tender
Following in the footsteps of a funeral pyre
You were paid not listen now your house is on fire
Wake me up when things get started
When everything starts to happen
My features form with a change in the weather
Some of us horrified
Others never talk about it
But when the weather starts to burn
Then youll know that youre in trouble
Following in the footsteps of a soldier girl
It is time to put your clothes on and to face the world
Dont you feel your luck is changing
When everything starts to happen
Put your head right next to my heart
The beat of the drum is the fear of the dark
My features form with a change in the weather
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Golden Shower! ! ! ! !
Scattered by the broken string, bent to pick the beads.
You stood with some in cupped hands, did you my thoughts read?
Led me gently to balcony, to show Laburnum bloom.
Clusters of bright yellow flowers watch them with awe, droop.
Yellow petals formed a carpet, underneath the tree
You said its called golden shower, from far one can see.
The breeze carries the flowers, away from the loose bunch,
Just like my beads got separated, and I sat hunched.
I forgot about my rosary, as we stepped in the avenue.
Your nearness and fragrant air, tears blurred the view.
Careful not to crush the blossoms, lying on the grass
We strolled hand in hand, exchanging a glance…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Hers Was
Hers was a life of compliance.
Fulfilment of another's wishes,
observance of another's needs,
conformity to the rules set down
in stone. She was the rubber of
beads through fingers, touched
by thumbs; the beads of the rosary
would be sealed by prayers.
She was the self denier, who put
herself last, one who sacrificed
pleasures for a promised salvation,
whose menstruations were reminders
of babies that would never be,
children which would never be hers,
dugs that would never be sucked.
She carried the cross through cloisters,
sandaled feet trod the paved paths,
heard birdsong, saw butterflies in flight,
moths at night in the candle's flame,
she hidden away, unknown, no fame
with a saint's name. And each morning
rising with the bell, kissed by the early
dawn, touched by the chill of early frost,
she lived and moved, all for love of Christ.
poem by Terry Collett
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In things to be seen at once, much variety makes confusion, another vice of beauty. In things that are not seen at once, and have no respect one to another, great variety is commendable, provided this variety transgress not the rules of optics and geometry.
quote by Christopher Wren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lamerica
Yeeeaahh
I took a trip down to lamerica
To trade some beads for a pint of gold
I took a trip down to lamerica
To trade some beads for a pint of gold
Lamerica, lamerica, lamerica x2
Cmon people, dont ya look so down
You know the rain mans comin ta town
Change the weather, change your luck
And then hell teach ya how ta...find yourself
Lamerica
Friendly strangers came to town
All the people put them down
But, the women loved their ways
Come again some other day
Like the gentle rain
Like the gentle rain that falls
I took a trip down to lamerica
To trade some beads for a pint of gold
I took a trip down to lamerica
To trade some beads for a pint of gold
Lamerica, lamerica, lamerica
Lamerica, lamerica, lamerica, lamerica
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Piety Is Hard
A pious man brings a gift for the lame one,
It is a rosary with thousands of beads;
His tortures do never seize him,
For he prays so acceptably in the eyes of His Lord.
Guide him, the lame one needs guidance
For he is a sick person with absolute health
In the body and mind as well.
He bleeds tonight from your inflicted wound
As he became a thief of the night.
poem by Naveed Akram
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What's Left Of The Flag
His eyes they close
and his last breath spoke
he had seen all to be seen
a life once full
now an empty vase
wilt the blossums
on his early grave
walk away me boys
walk away me boys
and my morning we'll be free
wipe that golden tear
from your mother dear
and raise what's left
of the flag for me
Then the rosary beads
song performed by by Flogging Molly from Drunken Lullabies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Statues And The Tear
All night a fountain pleads,
Telling her beads,
Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon;
And where she springs atween,
Two statues lean--
Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight strewn.
Till hate had frozen speech,
Each hated each,
Hated and died, and went unto his place:
And still inveterate
They lean and hate
With glare of stone implacable, face to face.
One, who bade set them here
In stone austere,
To both was dear, and did not guess at all:
Yet with her new-wed lord
Walking the sward
Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let all.
She turn'd and went her way.
Yet in the spray
The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie.
Night-long the fountain drips,
But even slips
Untold that one bead of her rosary:
While they, who know it would
Lie if it could,
Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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The river and its waves are one
The river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?
When the wave rises,
it is the water;
and when it falls,
it is the same water again.
Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave,
shall it no longer be considered as water?
Within the Supreme Brahma,
the worlds are being told like beads:
Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.