Chase Henry
In my life I was the town drunkard;
When I died the priest denied me burial
In holy ground.
The which rebounded to my good fortune.
For the Protestants bought this lot,
And buried my body here,
Close to the grave of the banker Nicholas,
And of his wife Priscilla.
Take note, ye prudent and pious souls,
Of the cross-currents in life
Which bring honor to the dead, who lived in shame.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Old Bloke With Heaps Of Money
The old bloke with heaps of money was buried yesterday
Yet for his funeral services and his burial the town charities will pay
For all the money that he had by him hidden away
At least a couple of million so those who knew him say.
He never fathered children he never had a wife
Earning money and hiding it was his great joy in life
He did not trust the banks at all so his millions he did hide
And of where his hidden fortune is the secret with him died.
He lived in a one bedrooom basement apartment he paid the cheapest rent
And he saved as much as he could save he never wasted a cent
In his very early seventies he died quite suddenly
The millionaire in money who died in poverty.
The old bloke with heaps of money was the meanest one in town
To be the town's greatest miser was his claim to renown
None ever sang his praises since praise he was not due
And where he hid his millions not one does have a clue.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Not Only For Me
Not only for me, Christ bled, but, for all the spiritually dead,
For all people lost in sin, that they can have New Life within,
Gaining from Him, spiritual life, leaving sin, that was so rife,
Now, forgiven of all our sins, by God, as a New Life begins.
Not only for me, Christ died, but, for all men, who will abide,
In The Savior, Jesus Christ, Who, for all had paid sin’s price;
Dead to all sin, I now live, through The Spirit, He would give,
To all those who shall believe, God’s Holy Spirit, we receive.
Not only for me, laid in a tomb, but, for all, He faced doom,
Laid in the belly of this earth, so we could enter a New Birth;
All of my sin is buried away, as I rise upon The Narrow Way,
In the grave is all sin’s stain, with only a glorified life to gain.
Not only for me, did He rise, but for all men, spiritually wise,
Wise enough, to see the proof, to know that He is The Truth;
Christ was that final Revelation, given by God, for Salvation,
The Living Word, for all to see, the only way, to life eternally.
In The Word, we are taught, it’s not some, but all He bought,
Upon the cross of Calvary, when Christ died for all humanity,
Buying us from sin’s marketplace, granting life by His Grace,
An Eternal Life given to those, who believe Christ, Who rose.
(Copyright ©04/2010)
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
poem by John Celes
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The Border Town
An old caballero with his worn out sombrero
came riding into town.
The town had been banished. Everyone vanished.
It seems there was no one around.
The buildings were broken. No words were heard spoken.
Everyone now was all gone.
He'd once had a wife here and children with life here.
The banditos had come, killed and rode on.
He'd been away. He'd gone hunting that day
and returned to the grisly sight.
He'd buried his wife and his bambinos three
and rode away into the night.
He lived with the thought that he could have fought
if only he had been there.
The thought had ruined him and it consumed him
It was more than he could bear.
The shot from the gun was heard by no one.
He died right next to their grave.
He'd prayed to his God to forgive him
and that his soul He would save.
.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Jesus’ Cross
The Holy Cross beckons
To follow Jesus Christ;
The source of strength and joy
To souls, for Lord athirst!
The Holy Cross guides us
To walk upon His steps;
The Son of God had died
To save mankind from sins.
The Holy Cross reminds
To place our trust in God;
Jesus resurrected
To annul man from rod.
The Holy Cross signals
That life has crosses, woes;
Yet, we must tread fearless;
Engages God, our foes!
The Holy Cross goads us
To carry each one’s cross;
Our war with satan’s won,
By Jesus, without loss!
The Holy Cross renews
Our ties with Jesus Lord;
He will come in glory
To judge mankind by Word!
poem by John Celes
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A simple journey
There was absolutely no movement in his body
He was resting on ground motionless like anybody
It looked as if one simple object was lying?
All thought he was dead or was dieing
These are the saddest moments in the life
It is easy to walk on the edge of knife
But difficult to survive in the real show
All difficulties surround and blow
The dead person might have not thought an early end
He may not have foes but so many friends
It may be his miscalculation that end in any case may not near
He may be living in confidence without any fear
Stories gathered round that he was lavish and lovely
He believed in life to be spent very smoothly
It was his life style that made him very frank
He lived merrily, toasted others and drank
We miss the bus at an appointed hour
The cloak may end clicking and it is over
No one may take notice and prepare for departure
His life waited him in the ground for the rest of future
He may be buried with full honor
He mat well be praised as good donor
What had he earned in his entire stay?
Honorable life with ordinary stay
We only carry the blessings and good will
Memory will not fade away and remain still
Ashes may be washed away by sweeping wind
There won’t be left any remains to find
Leave the foot prints on the sand for time being
The destiny is same for ordinary man or king
People may remember what and how you lived?
It may be your work that may be appreciated and believed
Let dead remain buried under the ground
Little air blow may create lovely sound
Only peace may there and nothing else to be found
What impression do you gather when you go round?
Long lull may prevail when you depart?
It may be beginning of a new start
Who knows what will be the next move?
One has to act fast and ultimately prove
Only good work may be remembered for a long
Nobody may accompany you or come along
You may be all the way certainly right or wrong
Still it may be wrong to create all praises in the songs
It is relentless struggle and may go on
It has to be covered and spent of our own
You may either create for self a big name
Or condemned as a curse or shame
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Life of St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina (in verse)
A baby boy was born
To peasants, one fine morn;
And christened Francesco,
A day after birth, Oh!
Much pious was the lad,
In world so very bad;
He prayed a lot in life,
And didn’t mind any strife!
He loved to be a priest,
And work for Jesus Christ;
And loved the cassock brown
Of Capuchins in town!
He talked with Christ each day,
And guardian angel Fay;
And Mother Mary too –
His duty well, to do!
He joined the Friary,
As per his wish-diary;
And took his priestly vows,
In Capuchin’s main House!
He lived a humble life,
Despite his sickness rife;
And saw Christ in his dreams:
All crucified, it seems!
He chose the suff’ring way;
And so, in illness lay;
He took the prayer-key,
Opening Eternity!
God gave him unique gifts,
And spiritual uplifts;
He wrought miracles great,
And kept soul like clean slate.
He was a good preacher;
He was a good teacher;
And said the Holy Mass;
Heard confessions, Alas!
He loved the Holy Cross;
Christ Jesus was his boss;
He prayed the Rosary
Fervently to Mary.
He lived to ripe old age,
And turned to be a sage;
They saw him in places
Afar, with love’s gazes.
He used to tell others:
Pray, Hope – sisters, brothers;
And don’t worry at all:
God lifts you if you fall.
‘Confess your sins’, he said;
‘Fill soul with grace instead;
Avoid Almighty’s rod,
And take more souls to God.’
Christ’s stigmata, he had:
The wounds painfully bled;
But just before his death,
They healed with his last breath!
Christ’s stigmata, He bore,
For fifty years or more;
The crucifix, he held
All life, as God’s love welled!
Close to his heart, the Cross –
Yes, Jesus was his boss!
His love of God was great;
For sins, he had a hate.
A poor friar, he was,
And toiled for divine cause;
Despite a not good health,
But virtues – his one wealth!
God made him ‘Blessed’ soon,
And canonized him – boon
To Capuchin’s order,
That spread his good odor!
Even the earth, may be,
Without the sun surely;
But Holy Mass is one
Sacrifice of God’s Son!
Lovingly dedicated to St. Padre Pio
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-20-2008
poem by John Celes
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Haunting The Chapel
The holy cross
Symbol of life
Anticipate the lives of Christians born
Speak of death
The words of hate
Anticipate the rules among the dead
Hell has seen
Priests condemned
To bring forth the lord of the cross
Strike twelve
Raise the dead
The chapel comes under attack
The ghosts of dead
Torment the priest
Their altar will soon be destroyed
Heaven's mass
Turning black
The church will belong to the dead
Blackened magic
And thus we're lost
Lucifer will supreme
The crystal ball
Children of faith
Their lasting eternal scream
Those who never make the people scream
Have no task for all of time
Satan's form of soldiers stand in lust
Destruction charged upon the cross
Attacking there's seven ways to go
Tormenting the priest
song performed by by Slayer from Haunting The Chapel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Holy Cross
O Holy Cross of Jesus Christ!
How must I come to Calvary?
– By giving up world’s pleasures first,
Carrying my own and follow Thee!
O Holy Cross that Christ had borne!
Take me to Heaven’s narrow gate;
Much strife my body does adorn,
My sufferings never abate!
O Holy Cross on which Christ died!
At times, in life I grow weary,
Although in God, I do abide;
With charm all lost, life seems dreary.
O Holy Cross that satan fears;
Then guide me in the way of light;
My stay on earth almost well nears;
Let Truth be always in my sight!
O Holy Cross: eternal sign;
In Jesus Christ, I trust my soul;
In Maker’s Feast, I wish to dine:
My only aim and earthly goal!
O Holy Cross that saves mankind;
Show me the dress of grace to don;
For only pure a heart and mind
Can see the face of God’s one Son!
poem by John Celes
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Signs Pointing To The Christ
As the snake was lifted on the pole, Christ was lifted up to behold.
Bitten by snakes and destined to die they were told to look on high.
As those who looked were healed, at the cross Salvation was revealed.
We too were destined for the dust, but Christ my friend, died for us.
It pleased The Lord God to offer Christ to the world as a sacrifice.
The Spotless Lamb upon the cross saving men who are eternally lost.
Although He died bearing our sin by God's Power He was raised again.
He couldn't be held in the grave and was raised so we could be saved.
Jonah followed his heart of sin so God prepared a great fish for him.
There was Jonah filled with fright in the belly 3 days and 3 nights.
Jonah was to be a sign for the coming Christ who had been prophesied.
So Jesus gave up all His rights to be in the earth 3 days and nights.
And Christ visited prisons deep within claiming His victory over sin.
Then God raised His body for all to see, affirming Christ's Victory.
And all believers are buried with Christ to be raised unto new life.
One day soon our mortal body will be gloriously raised for Eternity.
He who had no sin died in our place, for this was God's Saving Grace.
He rose again in the morning hour, and this was God's Saving Power.
He rose in victory over sin so that all could have new life in Him.
He's coming back one more time, to bring Home His blood bought Bride.
All Souls Day: The Faithful Departed
Today, we think of all souls dead, some dear;
Some were so near, now gone afar, we fear;
Some were our friends, both good and bad, we knew;
But they all vanished like the morning dew!
Some were our neighbours, righteous or quite bad;
Nevertheless, they’re dead, which seems so sad;
Some were just strangers whom we met sometime;
They are no more with us in life and time.
Many we heard of, now no longer live;
Some men violent to violent ends did give;
Many unknown are gone forever too;
We pray, the love of God must all souls woo.
Some bodies lie in earthy dampness cold;
Some met a watery grave or in urns hold;
Some killed by beasts or men-demonic, died;
Many were holy, in God did abide!
Some were burnt, their ashes scattered by wind;
Some as mummies in pyramids, we find;
The end of many, we can’t imagine;
For myriads dead and worm-eaten, we pine!
The world of dead exceeds the living one;
Who thinks of orphans and who lived alone?
Kings, queens, lords, ladies, paupers too are gone;
Let living pray for God’s mercy and moan!
‘May the souls dead all, rest in peace;
May God forgive sinners with ease! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 02-11-11
poem by John Celes
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It Is Finished
“It is finished” as Christ was done, were the words of God’s Own Son.
It was finished and some knew that Christ had died for me and you.
He was born the man Jesus Christ, for He was to be God’s Sacrifice.
Jesus was the name given Him as He’d save His people from their sin.
Christ was the name of God’s Son, as He was The Lord’s Anointed One.
Thinking they were done with Him, the people only added to their sin.
But Christ would not be denied, even though they pierced His side.
They had Him then sealed in a tomb, which only added to their doom.
In the ground as the scripture said, for three days amongst the dead.
But The Lord God was not done, for the grave could not hold His Son.
On the third day to much surprise, The Lord from the tomb would rise.
The stone of the tomb was rolled away, for He was not there to stay.
For the temple that He did raise, was His body to The Father’s praise.
And Jesus did just what He said, as He raised his body from the dead.
He was dead, but is now alive, and He is seated at His Father’s side.
This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that for us He became a sacrifice.
On the cross He bore the sins of all to redeem man from Adam’s fall.
Christ tasted death for you and me, so we could live through eternity.
Believe that for you Christ died and you my friend will be justified.
And confess your Lord is Jesus Christ and you will have Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©10/2004)
In the Wilderness
The sea patrol,
Please bring out the dead in Libya! !
For the hair and the body are like the high-heel girls;
But in the wilderness are they gone too soon,
So try to bring out the dead for burial.
Bombs and bullets of war!
We are still seeing what is going on in Libya! !
But in the wilderness in search of the dead bodies is your mission;
So try to bring our the dead for a peaceful burial.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Gospel in a Nutshell
Here’s The Gospel in a nutshell friend, from the beginning to the end.
The message displayed for all to see, so all men can live for eternity.
A message made loud and clear, so that sinful man needs not to fear.
The message is seen in Jesus Christ, so all men can have Eternal Life.
Jesus Christ died on a bloody cross, The Perfect Man for sinners lost,
For Jesus Christ died in our place, and this friend was all God’s Grace.
God sent to earth The Perfect Lamb, to bleed and die for sinful man,
As the wages for sin is death, He said “Forgive them” in His last breath.
By Jesus the penalty for sin was paid, then on the ground His body laid.
He was then placed in a tomb my friend, for the cross was not His end.
After being placed in the tomb, the Jews thought they sealed His doom.
Being In the ground for three days, sorrow began replacing men’s praise.
But the grave could not hold Him friend, for death was not Christ’s end,
And after three days came and went, Christ from that grave rose again.
He rose again just like He said, for He couldn’t remain among the dead.
Christ ascended again to His Father’s side, even though for us He died.
To help the fainted heart believe again, He returned to be seen by men,
To five hundred men He did appear, to put to rest any doubt and fear.
After forty days He would ascend, reminding all He would return again.
This is the Hope we have in Christ, that we will be raised unto New Life.
(Copyright ©02/2005)
Magshe
Dare to be different and dare to take up the task,
For i am from 'Mensah Sarbah Hall' to teach you;
And my mind is set up like Indiana Jones.
I am Magshe and you could be my grandfather,
But to wed the deceased on her dead-bed before burial;
For, i have no crocodile tears to shed on this issue.
Dumbfounded,
But, you must marry the ded body before burial!
However, deep inside me is the muse of love.
I am watching you under this microscope and,
I have the symbols of this story to tell from 'Mensah Sarbah Hall'!
For, someone did it for the frist time.
Your life is like a child's play,
With the cultures and the customs around you;
But i will never forget what you did to her,
And now, she is dead and gone! !
Share my thoughts if you have the muse of love,
For the gods are ready to talk today;
Because, the politicians are cheating us!
Of man's stupidity in the name of plenty,
And like the drunkard's stupor! !
But, are we all not human beings? !
For my eyes have seen and my hand will write them;
But, who else is guilty on this case?
You can achieve any heights in life if you believe in it,
Butm, you've now killed the lady;
And, you are now made rto marry the dead body.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poem: Song to the Holy Cross
The cross of love:
The cross I love:
The cross I'd loved all life;
The wooden cross:
The holy cross:
The cross that bore man's strife.
The oaken cross:
The heavy cross:
The cross Jesus carried;
The cross on which
Christ Lord was nailed:
And bore man's sins indeed.
The cross of death:
The blood-stained cross:
The Savior, man, redeemed;
The cross of life's
Victory o'er death:
That souls on earth must heed.
poem by John Celes
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A Grieving Mother
The patriots celebrating the war has been won
But the grieving mother weeps for her dead son
Who died a young hero in a war far away
His twenty third birthday it would be today.
Out of the young war dead war heroes are made
This morning she did not go to watch the parade
Instead she placed flowers on the grave where her son lay
And knelt on the grass for awhile for to pray.
She sees her son's death as a waste of a good young life
He never had the chance to make the young woman he loved his wife
He surely would have made a wonderful dad
One of the joys in life that he never had.
Today had he been alive he'd have been twenty three
Her son was a brave man none braver than he
She wept at his grave whilst through the streets of the town
The patriots did proudly parade up and down.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Holy Joe
(yeah)
I...
I'm a humble guy
No, really i try
You know it's hard sometimes
You...
Yeah, you're messed up too
My brother's gonna get through
Working my way to get to you
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Here it comes
Here it comes
Holy joe
Please...
Don't make me say please
Champagne and ice cream
It's not what i want, it's what i need
Devotion
And a little appreciation
Little heavy rotation
Looks good on me
(having the best time of anybody's life)
(closer than ever to everybody's wife)
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Here it comes
Here it comes
Holy joe
(having the best time of anybody's life)
(closer than ever to everybody's wife)
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on
Be good to me
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Be good to me
Here it comes
Here it comes
Holy joe
Here it comes
Here it comes
Holy joe
Here it comes
Here it comes
Holy joe
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Than Just Life
I’m truly alive this very day, through The Truth, The Life and Way,
For today I’m alive in Jesus Christ, the Author of my Eternal Life.
I was alive but spiritually dead, with the certainty of death ahead,
But in The Spirit, Christ came to me, giving me new life Eternally.
I lived all of my days at a loss, in the shadow of Calvary’s Cross,
But then Christ pierced that night, with The Blessed Gospel Light.
On the cross, through His pain, I received from God eternal gain,
And now this life, I live for Him, The Lord who died for all my sin.
I no longer strive in emptiness, but live in Christ’s Righteousness,
A righteousness bestowed on me, from on that cross of Calvary.
A gift of God’s Awesome Grace, when His Son died in my place,
When this gift to me He did impart, He came to dwell in my heart.
Now I don’t live just to survive, but through The Lord I truly thrive,
Living for God an abundant life, through my Savior Jesus Christ.
With The Holy Spirit’s Power, Christ helps me every waking hour,
To live a special life for God, while on this mundane earthly sod.
My life doesn’t end down here, as the end of all is drawing near,
For I will be in a mansion sublime, to continue on for all of time,
And the life I’ve lived on earth, won’t compare to heaven’s worth,
Where we will live in perfect unity, with our Savior for all Eternity.
Commandant Gideon Scheepers
They tried to send him to hell,
as if he was one of them,
a traitor, a rebel.
The British killed a captured ill man,
that they came across in the veldt
without decency, or any military law being honoured.
They shot a Boer commandant through the heart
and without a funeral note,
they hurried, to get him buried.
A brave man devoted
to his country, to his God,
whose burial place was not noted.
Turning sod after sod
with spades, they dumped him
in a unmarked grave
in the dead of night
without using light
they threw ground upon his chest,
laid him to rest without any honour
and left him alone
without a marking stone.
[References: The rank of Commandant is equivalent to that of Lieutenant Colonel. The heroic story of Gideon Scheepers during the second Anglo-Boer war, who was captured while being ill in the veldt as a normal combatant, but treated like a rebel and shot by the British, who buried him in a unmarked hole in the ground.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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