But I remember the moment when my father died. I wasn't a very committed Catholic beforehand, but when that happened it suddenly all felt so obvious: I now believe religion is our attempt to find an explanation, for us to feel more protected.
quote by Javier Bardem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I remember the moment when my father died. I wasn't a very committed Catholic beforehand, but when that happened it suddenly all felt so obvious: I now believe religion is our attempt to find an explanation, for us to feel more protected.
quote by Javier Bardem
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Much That I Remember About You
I remember you
I remember the first time I saw you
Looking up and there you were, an angel on earth
It occurred when I didn’t expect it, wasn’t looking
Seeing you and thinking that you were pretty
Seeing you and wondering why, afterwards, I
Remember you more now
I remember your voice
I remember the first time I heard and it enchanted me
Dulcet tones playing hypnotic music disguised as a woman’s voice
It happened in conversation, in the harmony of all you spoke
Hearing the coy happiness in the words we shared
Hearing the smile in your tone so that I
Remember your voice now
I remember your eyes
I remember the first time I became lost in them
How it was a time when our eyes met in more than just a glance
It happened in a moment, together with you
Seeing in your eyes more than just a casual interest
Seeing in your eyes myself and us which is why I
Remember your eyes now
I remember your skin
I remember the first time I felt the touch of your skin
When your fingertips brushed mine in flirting invitation
It flashed in a moment, skin to skin
Feeling the electricity of your touch, your skin against mine
Feeling the heat passing between us as I
Remember the feel of your skin now
I remember how you made me feel
I remember the first time I admitted to myself
What I felt for you was more than just friendship
It came in a moment, talking with you
Realizing that every thought of you made me smile
Realizing that each smile made me
Remember even more how you made me feel
I remember why I fell for you
I remember this all the time now
The memory comes in thoughts, your voice, your eyes
It happens in every moment these days, loving you
Knowing that what happened between us is a good beginning
Knowing that we could be much more always helps me
Remember constantly why I fell in love with you
poem by David Terry
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Religious Family
Sisters and brothers are one of those precious members
In the family. Their role is infinite.
They shock themselves with delight.
They read signs and play with them.
Their signs are obvious,
Useful to the parents,
Forcing action of the family.
Heaven can arrive around the bend,
When the families die and their hell is dismissed by God.
Mothers shall look forward to heaven, and their husbands
Are found too in heaven, or shall I say Paradise.
“My son is big at religion, ” says the father to his child.
For this prayer to be answered, the boy must be big, an adult.
His life at the moment has laws broken, the lawful one is not him.
For he is criminal in his action, in his life and love.
He spent a time with another person, and did not get married.
He did not like this now, and not seven times a week.
He must pray and be forgiven, would say God.
God loves the boy’s father, however, and thus the boy is forgiven
For he is big at religion.
The father has his prayer answered.
Afterwards, the father cries for his child as he has lost him to the elements.
The story is such that it makes us cry, and cry and cry.
To find the mother, we must find the father and his prayer.
We find she is forced to marry someone else
But the daughter is forced to object, due to her religion.
The daughter is confused and wants to know why this happens.
The mother blames the divorce on her son who adventured and died.
The father’s prayer was answered but his wife went astray,
and his daughter was too big at religion.
The daughter shall grow and grow to be a happy woman.
Both parents died due to cancer.
It means the average family would die in the ways of religion,
And not religion die in the ways of family.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I went to Catholic high school for half a year and religion wasn't the cool thing to talk about even at a catholic high school. It never came up.
quote by Mandy Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father
as father begs, the son in a compromise
goes with him in that dome
where there are candles
some have already burned themselves
and some have just been lighted
by the hand of the caretaker.
there had been so many misunderstandings
unresolved anger
the son keeps the hate as the father keeps
the silence
there is no available explanation
there is simply none to mention
for the moment
the father looks behind and tells the son
i am of the past
my candle melted to the ground
there is no rekindling
the father points to him another candle
about to end its life
and he tells the son, that is yours
the father is talking about a life of the past
and the shrinking future
the son now must explain too
how hate kept him
there is no explanation
there is simply nothing to mention
the candles melt to the ground
offering a smoke as left-over of its short existence
that is the only possible explanation
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Message To Mom
i remember the day you left,
in a blink of an eye,
you just died,
what the hell happened?
life felt pointless,
i felt helpless,
things never change,
days goes by,
i feel the same,
remembering how much
you ment to me,
makes me cry,
you can't be by my side,
helping me each day,
to help me through,
i'm left finding out what to do,
having doubts along the way,
make me hate every day,
what i feel about you never goes away,
i just find other ways to spend them,
life so empty,
with everything gone,
what do you do?
a mothers life is always special,
would you agree?
what about the daughter
that was left behind?
left before she found herself,
can you relate?
to a life so down,
and things she have to take on,
never thought the day would come,
when i have to say,
i love you mom,
will you ever be back?
Copyright © 2009
3-10-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something Happened
Something happened
I just don't understand
Something happened
It's making me feel mad
Something happened, you don't hear about
Oh, please that never did before
Something happened
I just don't understand
Something happened
I just don't understand
Something happened
It's making me feel mad, oh
I never saw this on TV
I never read it in no book
ahh
Something happened
I just don't understand
hey, baby, something happened
I just don't understand
something happened
I just don't understand
something happened
I just don't understand
something happened
I just don't understand
something happened
Something happened
I just don't understand
Something happened
It's making me feel mad
I thought I knew a lot of things
but I don't know a thing, oh, oh, oh
Something happened
I just don't understand
The things I hear and see
don't seem the same
The things I touch and feel
are forever changed
I've never felt this way before
and I hope I never do again
Something happened
I don't know why or when
oh, something happened
I just don't understand
something happened
I just don't understand
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
something happened
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
something happened
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
something happened
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Feel Me
“Feel me to do right,” our father said on his deathbed.
We did not quite know—in fact, not at all—what he meant.
His last whisper was spent as through a slot in a wall.
He left us a key, but how did it fit? “Feel me
to do right.” Did it mean that, though he died, he would be felt
through some aperture, or by some unseen instrument
our dad just then had come to know? So, to do right always,
we need but feel his spirit? Or was it merely his apology
for dying? “Feel that I do right in not trying,
as you insist, to stay on your side. There is the wide
gateway and the splendid tower, and you implore me
to wait here, with the worms!”
Had he defined his terms, and could we discriminate
among his motives, we might have found out how to “do right”
before we died—supposing he felt he suddenly knew
what dying was. “You do wrong because you do not feel
as I do now” was maybe the sense. “Feel me, and emulate
my state, for I am becoming less dense—I am feeling right
for the first time.” And then the vessel burst,
and we were kneeling around an emptiness.
We cannot feel our father now. His power courses through us,
yes, but he—the chest and cheek, the foot and palm,
the mouth of oracle—is calm. And we still seek
his meaning. “Feel me,” he said, and emphasized that word.
Should we have heard it as a plea for a caress—
a constant caress, since flesh to flesh was all that we
could do right if we would bless him?
The dying must feel the pressure of that question—
lying flat, turning cold from brow to heel—the hot
cowards there above protesting their love, and saying,
“What can we do? Are you all right?” While the wall opens
and the blue night pours through. “What can we do?
We want to do what’s right.”
“Lie down with me, and hold me, tight. Touch me. Be
with me. Feel with me. Feel me to do right.”
poem by May Swenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Life
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Seeking to be free.
Yeah.
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
And to admit...
The benefit.
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it,
And this seems to fit...
Me,
Just perfectly.
Yes, I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
With a happiness to give and get.
I am...
Devoted to possibilities.
Oh,
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Devoted to possibilities.
Oh,
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
Oh,
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
Yes, I am...
Life.
And, I am...
Not a substitution.
I am...
Life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Myris: Alexandria, A.D. 340
When I heard the terrible news, that Myris was dead,
I went to his house, although I avoid
going to the houses of Christians,
especially during times of mourning or festivity.
I stood in the corridor. I didn't want
to go further inside because I noticed
that the relatives of the deceased looked at me
with obvious surprise and displeasure.
They had him in a large room
and from the corner where I stood
I could catch a glimpse of it: all precious carpets,
and vessels in silver and gold.
I stood and wept in a corner of the corridor.
And I thought how our parties and excursions
wouldn't be worthwhile now without Myris;
and I thought how I'd no longer see him
at our wonderfully indecent night-long sessions
enjoying himself, laughing, and reciting verses
with his perfect feel for Greek rhythm;
and I thought how I'd lost forever
his beauty, lost forever
the young man I'd worshipped so passionately.
Some old women close to me were talking with lowered
voices
about the last day he lived:
the name of Christ constantly on his lips,
his hand holding a cross.
Then four Christian priests
came into the room, and said prayers
fervently, and orisons to Jesus,
or to Mary (I'm not very familiar with their religion).
We'd known of course that Myris was a Christian,
known it from the very start,
when he first joined our group the year before last.
But he lived exactly as we did:
more devoted to pleasure than all of us,
he scattered his money lavishly on amusements.
Not caring what anyone thought of him,
he threw himself eagerly into night-time scuffles
when our group happened to clash
with some rival group in the street.
He never spoke about his religion.
And once we even told him
that we'd take him with us to the Serapeion.
But -I remember now-
he didn't seem to like this joke of ours.
And yes, now I recall two other incidents.
When we made libations to Poseidon,
he drew himself back from our circle and looked elsewhere.
And when one of us in his fervour said:
'May all of us be favoured and protected
by the great, the sublime Apollo'-
Myris, unheard by the others, whispered: 'Not counting
me.'
The Christian priests were praying loudly
for the young man's soul.
I noticed with how much diligence,
how much intense concern
for the forms of their religion, they were preparing
everything for the Christian funeral.
And suddenly an odd sensation took hold of me:
indefinably I felt
as if Myris were going from me;
I felt that he, a Christian, was united
with his own people and that I was becoming
a stranger, a total stranger. I even felt
a doubt come over me: that I'd been deceived by my passion
and has always been a stranger to him.
I rushed out of their horrible house,
rushed away before my memory of Myris
could be captured, could be perverted by their Christianity.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Look What Has Happened To Me
In the morning when I wake,
And my feet can find the floor,
I stumble down the hall,
And I open up the door,
Then I look into the mirror,
Just like I know you do.
Stopping for a moment,
I can feel my mind go through,
The boundries of time,
Back to a heart without his
Love inside.
I was more than just alone;
I was dying on my own,
Thinking that nothing was ever gonna
Save my life.
Look what has happened to me,
I find it hard to believe.
His love has taken my life
This far, so far....
Looking what has happened to me,
My mind can hardly conceive
What Im beginning to be,
Look what, look what....
When you stop and think it over,
Do you think youre doing well?
Are you getting stronger?
Can you really tell?
If youre truthful with your feelings,
Then you see theres room to grow,
Though you may have found the answer,
There is so much more to know....
More to this life.
You can never stop growing, or youll
Start to die.
I can not survive alone.
I am nothing on my own.
But seeings believing, and if you
Need to see,
Look at me.
Ahhhh....
Look what has happened to me,
I find it hard to believe.
His love has taken my life
This far, so far....
Look what has happened to me,
My mind can hardly conceive.
Look what has happened,
Look what, look what....
Look what has happened to me,
I find it hard to believe.
His love has taken my life
This far, so far....
Look what has happened to me,
My mind can hardly conceive
What Im beginning to be,
Look what, look what....
Look what has happened to me, (look what has happened to me,)
I find it hard to believe.
His love has taken my life
This far, so far....
Look what has happened to me,
My mind can hardly conceive
What Im beginning to be,
Look what, look what....
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Still...
Who are you now?
Are you still the same
Or did you change somehow?
What do you do
At this very moment when I think of you?
And when I'm looking back
How we were young and stupid
Do you remember that?
Baby
No matter how I fight it
Can't deny it
Just can't let you go
I still need you
I still care about you
Though everything's been said and done
I still feel you
Like I'm right beside you
But still no word from you
Now that you're gone
Instead of moving on, I refuse to see
And I keep coming back
And I'm stuck in a moment
That wasn't meant to last (to last)
I try to fight it
Can't deny it
You don't even know
That I still need you
I still care about you
Though everything's been said and done
I still feel you
Like I'm right beside you
But still no word from you
Ohhhh
Wish I could find you
Just like I found you then
Ohhhhh (can't live without you)
Though everything's been said and done (yeah)
I still feel you (I still feel you)
Like I'm right beside you (like I'm right beside you)
But still no (still no word) word from you
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It wasn't sexual in its element. I wasn't being exploited. I was doing what happened. It was very challenging because I played Phyllis from 15 years old to 53 when she died of breast cancer.
quote by Lesley-Anne Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now that copyrights can be just about a century long, the inability to know what is protected and what is not protected becomes a huge and obvious burden on the creative process.
quote by Lawrence Lessig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unlovable
Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Am I unlovable?
Cynical, jaded, faithless, disappointed, disillusioned, used
If I could take back all my sweat, my tears, my sex, my joy I would
My time, my love, my effort, passion, dedication
In case of mistaken identity I gave these things to you
If I sound angry, bitter, sad, infatuated, it's the truth
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, just a few
Stages of acceptance that it's really over
It's just so complicated and I'm stupid for believing in you
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
I had your back, I held you up, I told you you were good enough
It was not reciprocated, you kept affection and yourself apart
You fed your love to me like crumbs to pigeons in the park
Sometimes I think you're satisfied to see me begging like a dog
I wasn't armoured, you were king, I gave my everything
Because sometimes you showed me just a hint of you and then
For just a moment I romanticised the notion
I can take away the torment, I can love you like they never did
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?
Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my sex undoable?
Am I unlovable?
Are my words unlistenable?
Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable?
Am I unlovable?
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the road to Emmaus
While we were walking
the seven miles to our house
that was in Emmaus
Cleopas and I were talking
about Jesus of Nazareth being crucified
about the life that he lead
and the cruel way in which he died
and this honest powerful man was now dead
thunder flashed down from the heaven,
the sun fled away
as if it wasn’t day
and although the miles were only seven
our depressed walk felt like an eternity
and the things that happened in Jerusalem was frightening
laying like a very heavy burden on Cleopas and me
and then suddenly very exciting
another man was walking with us,
at first we did notice or even recognize him
and we told him, as we were so serious
why our lives seemed so dim
we told him how the women amazed us with the news
that the tomb was empty
and on this issue we both had our views
but some of our companions went to see
and the body of Christ was gone
they could not find him anywhere
and it felt as if we were totally alone
as his body was no longer there
but the man told us from the scriptures
about the mission of God the Son,
and we knew the things he had done
and even from his well known gestures
we did not recognize that Jesus himself had walked
and had talked
on the road to Emmaus with us
we only comprehended it later at the falling dusk.
[Reference: The Waste Land: V. “What the thunder said” by T. S. Eliot.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Billy Of One Hand
His left hand severed just below the elbow
And the nickname for him 'Billy of one hand'
And he still feels quite angry with his father
And why this should be not hard to understand.
It happened when Billy was just four years old
The day his father took him to the zoo
He wandered towards a cage his dad not looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
But Billy will put no blame on the tiger
A tiger just wild animal he say
And for what happened to me I must blame my father
I see my hand and hate him every day.
I watched him as a young boy beat my mother
'Thanks be to god from us he went away'
I can't remember any good about him
And only darkest memories of him stay.
He left my mum to live with his new lover
To cheat and domineer to him seemed fair
Ten years or maybe more since I've last seen him
And where he live I do not know or care.
'Billy of one hand' his given nickname
And the worst day of his life was at the zoo
He strayed off whilst his father wasn't looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Brown Eyes
Remember the first day when I saw your face
remember the first day when you smiled at me
you stepped to me and you said to me
I was the woman you dreamed about
remember the first day when you called my house
remember the first day when you took me out
we had butterflies although we tried to hide
and we both had a beautiful night
The way we held each others hand
the way we talked the way we laughed
it felt so good to find true love
I knew right then and there you were the one
I know that he loves me cause he told me so
I know that he loves me cause his feelings show
when he stares at me you see that he cares for me
you see how he is so deep in love
I know that he loves me cause its obvious
I know that he loves me cause it's me he trusts
and he's missing me if he's not kissing me
and when he looks at me his brown eyes tells his soul
Remember the first day
song performed by by Destiny's Child from Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My hope that the Church will emerge as a strong leader in society is just that a hope. What I described in The Catholic Moment is not a prophecy but the outline of a possibility. There are no guarantees that my hopes expressed in The Catholic Moment will ever be realised.
quote by Richard John Neuhaus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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