At the Foot of the Cross
At the foot of the Cross stood the Magdalene
with Mary, his mother, and John.
Jesus was now in extremis-
the curious people had gone.
The mark of the whips were upon him,
an ugly bruise under his eye.
Blood filtered down from the crown made of thorns.
dripping down from his face to one thigh.
Mary watched as her eldest was dying.
Bore her pain with incredible calm.
She wished that, his agony over,
She’d hold him once more in her arms.
With breath that was labored and shallow
He spoke with his life nearly gone
He commended young John to his mother
And commended his mother to John
He looked at the Magdalene sadly
With a love that’s ineffably rare.
Then with loud voice he cried out to Heaven
A fool might think this was despair.
Joseph of Arimethea
came with a ladder near dusk
With the help of the Priest, Nicodemus
He took the crucified Son from his Cross.
Mary was silently weeping
at the body of Christ in her arms.
She looked at the King Pilate murdered.
Whom the people had greeted with Palms
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I Am Ascending To My Father
I have fallen upon my knees heavily; God cast
me down, before entering this holy sacred spot;
the Garden of Gethsemane, in the Kidron valley;
among those ancient olive trees I pondered
upon my pilgrimage way, their twisted arms their
gnarled trunks, witnessed Jesus pass this way;
blood my Lord sweated here in fear in agony
his prayers to heaven, to his father were carried;
but the bitter cup he bore, could be not removed.
I have walked upon the sacred Via Dolorosa
where Christ carried our bloody cross, chastised
first, by his whipped tortured stripes, we are healed. 1 Peter 2: 24.
I have walked upon the Hill of Calvary Golgotha
where the New Testament describes Jesus, crucified
entered, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, venerated.
Here once many women viewed the crucifixion
from a distance, here by the Cross, three Marys’ stood
Christ’s mother, her sister Mary and Mary Magdalene. John 19: 25.
Here the sepulchre the Church of the Resurrection
acclaimed to be the site, of the resurrection, of Jesus
here while weeping, Mary Magdalene, stooped forward
looked into the memorial tomb and she viewed
two angels in white sitting one at the head
and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had
been lying. And the angels said to her: “Woman,
why are you weeping? ” She said to the angels:
“They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know
where they have taken him.” After saying these things,
she turned and viewed Jesus standing, ....
Jesus said to her: “Stop clinging to me. For I have not yet
ascended to the Father. But be on your way to my brothers
and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and YOUR
Father and to my God and Your God.’ ” Christ had risen. John 20: 11-18.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mary Mary Magdalene
Mary Mary Magdalene,
what do all those stories mean?
Mary, Mary, is it true,
Jesus had a thing for you?
Mary, Mary – He lay with you?
Mary, Mary, tell me true
Mary, Mary, red hair wild,
did He leave you great with child?
Mary, was your love so steady,
that you had had His kids already?
Mary, Mary, at the Cross,
did it feel a gain or loss?
Mary, Mary – on that third day,
what was it like with the stone rolled away?
Mary, Mary, running there with love,
what did you think when He rose above?
Mary, Mary – what was it like, after?
Were there tears or joyful laughter?
Mary, Mary – the kids you had –
did they turn out like their Dad?
Mary, Mary, whore redeemed,
did it work out like you dreamed?
Mary, Mary – your afterlife –
was it mostly love, or mostly strife?
Mary, Mary, were you worshipped or despised
As Mary’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Christ?
Mary, Mary, did you stay,
or feel you had to take the kids away?
Mary, Mary, with so much love,
did you, too, rise to heaven above?
Mary, Mary, in the sky,
all we ask are the reasons why…
Mary, Mary Magdalene,
What is really true? What does it really mean?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Magdalene and the Beatles's First LP
Magdalene watched Mary
bend down to put on the LP.
The Beatles. They'd saved
up and bought it together.
She took in Mary's stockinged
thigh showing through the slit
in the side of the school skirt.
Mary placed the LP carefully
onto the turntable, with her finger
put the needle arm down onto
the vinyl. The music started up,
Mary stood up and sat next to
Magdalene on the single bed.
Magdalene sensed her there,
her thigh next to hers, her
warmth, their knees almost
touching. What did your Ma
say when you said you bought
the Beatles? Magdalene asked.
She said nowt, Mary replied,
but Da said it was a load of
shite and where did I get
the money from to buy it?
John Lennon's voice sang
over the twanging guitars.
Magdalene said, did you
tell him we bought it together?
Mary nodded. Her hands
pushed between her thighs,
her young face lit up by
the room's light. Don't you
think Paul's a dish? Mary asked.
Magdalene shrugged her
shoulders, studied Mary's
knee where a spot of flesh
showed through a hole in
the black school stockings.
She wanted to move closer,
kiss the cheek, place her
lips on the skin. She breathed
in the borrowed scent that
Mary wore. Said she'd liberated
it from her Ma's room. Mary
talked of the boy they'd met
in the woods above the school.
Tried it on so he did, she said,
over the guitars and Lennon's
loud voice. Magdalene wished
she could put her hands where
the boy had tried. I put him
straight, Mary said, kneed him
where his fatherhood might flow.
Mary moved up and down on
the bed in response to the music.
The bedsprings complained.
Magdalene sensed the movement,
took in Mary's behind going up
and down on the bed cover.
Glory be. She wanted to kiss.
Needed the hand to touch Mary's,
the skin to join up with hers.
Downstairs a voice bellowed
to keep the bloody noise down.
Mary sighed and bent down
to turn the knob the thigh
revealed in the skirt's slit,
the spot of flesh through
the hole in the bended knee.
Magdalene captured the image.
Hid it in her memory bank for
later, for bedtime, for the cosy
pretend hold, maybe more if in
her dream she was lucky and bold.
poem by Terry Collett
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Sonnet: Mary, Mother of God
O Heavenly Mother of Jesus Christ!
O Virgin Queen, our Mother too, divine
Who bore Him, yet became disciple first,
O Mother Great of Velankanni shrine.
O Mary, born without Original Sin!
Loving Mother of God’s begotten Son;
Conceived by Holy Spirit, still virgin;
Queen of Heaven, crowned stars and sun!
From earth, Mary assumed into Heaven;
The serpent Satan failed to win, because;
Mother of Perpetual Help for all men,
Mother of Sorrows saw Son die on cross.
O Mary, Intercessor, Lord’s with thee!
Pray for sinners, on earth and Purgatory.
13-6-2001
poem by John Celes
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Mark (Chapter 15)
As morning came, the whole Sanhedrin crowd-
Chief priests, elders and scribes, held a council;
They bound and handed him o’er to Pilate;
When Pilate asked, “Are you the king of Jews? ”
He said to him in reply, “You say so! ”
The chief priests accused Him of many things;
And Pilate asked Him, “Have you an answer?
How many things they accuse you of, Look! ”
But Pilate was amazed as He didn’t talk.
They used to free a prisoner on feast days.
A murderer called Barabbas was brought in
From prison with rebels, for murder crimes;
The crowd pressed Pilate do as was custom;
Pilate asked, “Shall I free the ‘King of Jews’? ”
He knew the chief priests had envy on Him.
They made the crowd to free just Barabbas.
“What should I do with Jesus? ” asked Pilate.
They shouted together, “Crucify Him.”
“What evil has this man done? asked Pilate.
They shouted still loudly, “Crucify Him.”
Pilate freed the murderer, Barabbas.
He ordered Jesus to be scourged and led;
The soldiers took Him to the praetorium;
In purple clothed, a crown of thorns was placed,
Atop His head and they saluted Him,
“Hail, king of Jews and struck his head by reed.”
They spat on Him, knelt as if in homage:
They mocked at Him and stripped Him off his cloak;
They dressed Him in his own clothes and led Him.
A Cyrenian passer-by, Simon
Was made to help Him to carry the cross;
They brought him to Golgotha, ‘Place of skull’!
They gave Him wine with myrrh which He didn’t take;
They cast lots for his clothes; crucified Him,
At nine o’clock in the morning that day.
‘The King of Jews’ was inscribed on the cross.
Two robbers too were crucified with Him.
Some passed by Him and said, “The man who said
He would destroy the temple and rebuild
In three days’ time. Save yourself and come down”
Let Messiah come down from cross alive,
So that we may believe He’s king of Jews!
At noon, the land was covered by darkness
Till three in the afternoon, when He died.
He cried aloud, “Eloi, Eloi, lema
Sabachthani, meaning, ‘my God, my God,
Why hast thou forsaken me in this way? ”
Some by-standers said, “He calls Elijah! ”
One soaked a sponge in vinegar and held
It up to Him to drink, upon a reed.
Jesus uttered a loud cry, breathed His last.
The veil of sanctuary was torn in two.
A centurion who witnessed how he died
Remarked, “Truly, this was the Son of God! ”
Some women stood looking from a distance;
Mary Magdalene and Mary were there;
They’d followed Him from Galilee slowly.
Some women came from Jerusalem too.
When evening came, the day before Sabbath,
Joseph of Arimathea met Pilate
And requested for Jesus’ body!
But Pilate was amazed that He had died;
Joseph brought linen cloth and wrapped Him up.
They laid Him in a tomb hewn out of rock!
A stone was rolled across the entrance then.
Both Marys watched where Jesus’ body lay!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-20-2007
poem by John Celes
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The Holy Rosary
O let me say a ‘Hail Mary’,
And add a white rose to the crown,
Atop the head of Heav’n’s Queen –
Mary, Mother of Jesus Christ.
O let me say a rosary,
And place a crown of white roses,
Upon the head of Queen Mary –
Mother of God’s son, Jesus Christ.
The perfect array of prayers,
That brings all souls to Salvation,
By freeing them from every sin,
And bestowing God’s redemption.
Our Lady loves the Rosary,
And grants requests, reciting it;
And converts souls to divine love,
By warding off all evils rife.
Most powerful weapon on earth,
That draws God’s mercy and His grace,
And makes a person most devout,
And holy like Christ’s own mother!
The Rosary – gift of Mother
Mary, has every prayer
That’s needed for miracles too,
And heaven’s blessings, one can woo!
Mary, Jesus’ intercessor,
Can get things done, we ask from God;
And spares sinners from fire of hell,
And from Almighty’s just, fair rod!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-27-2008
poem by John Celes
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Song in Honor of BVM on Her Birthday (Sept.8th)
Baby Mary born today,
Of Joachim and of Anne;
Chosen by God long ago
To Mother Jesus Christ Lord.
Blessed Virgin Mary dear,
Who found favor in God’s heart;
Mediatrix for mankind;
Pray for us to earn God’s grace!
Holy Mary, God’s Mother;
Queen of heaven forever;
Pure of heart, immaculate
Conception who bore Jesus.
Hail O Mary, clad in grace;
Crushed the Serpent’s head and face!
Help me pray more rosaries
For the souls in purgatory.
Give us health of body, mind;
Help us keep soul in pure state;
Guide us lead a holy life;
And avoid sin and all strife!
Speak O Mary to Jesus;
Help us win against Satan;
Save us from the fire of hell;
Show the way to God’s abode.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-8-2009
poem by John Celes
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Mid the Piteous Heaps of Dead
'MID the piteous heaps of dead
Goes one weary golden head
Tossing ever to and fro,
Calling loud and calling low.
Mother, mother, step so light,
Mother, lay your fingers white
On my forehead like a dew !
Mother, mother, where are you?
Still so loud he makes his cry
That the dying cannot die;
All the writhing field's one groan
While he lies and cries alone.
But his mother's far away;
Cannot hear him cry and say:
Mother, I am dying, come!
Mother, I am lost from home!
Mary, Mother of all men,
Come and comfort him in pain.
Take his young head to the breast
Where your Child and God had rest.
Mary, Mary, step so light.
Mary, lay your fingers white
On his forehead! He shall dream
That his mother comforts him.
Mary, Mother, croon him o'er
Lullabies you sang before!
Mary, ease him, crooning low,
In the way that mothers know!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 27)
By morning, elders and chief priests
Decided to put Him to death;
They led Him bound and handed Him
Over to Governor Pilate.
On seeing Jesus condemned thus,
Judas regretted deeply for
What he did to Jesus then.
He gave the silver pieces back
To chief priests and elders and said:
‘I have betrayed innocent blood! ’
But they said, ‘What is that to us? ’
He flung the money in temple
And went and hanged himself, that day;
The chief priests gathered the money,
For it was unlawful to place
The ‘price of blood’ inside temple.
They bought the potter’s field with it,
As burial place for foreigners;
That field is still called ’Field of Blood.’
Thus came to be fulfilled prophet
Jeremiah’s prophetic words!
The governor queried Jesus:
‘Are you the king of Jews, tell me? ’
And Jesus answered, ‘You say so.’
And when accused by the chief priests
And elders, He made no answer;
Then Pilate said, ‘Do you not hear
The things they utter against you? ’
But He didn’t answer him a word;
The governor was so perplexed.
Now on the occasion of Feast,
The governor would release one
Prisoner, whom people had wished.
A notorious prisoner then,
Called Barabbas was ushered in;
Then Pilate asked of them, ‘Which one
Do you want me to release now-
Barabbas or the Messiah? ’
For, he knew that out of envy,
They had handed Jesus to him.
While being seated on his bench,
His wife sent him a caution note:
Do not trouble the righteous man,
I suffered in a dream of Him.’
Howev’r, the chief priests and elders
Had persuaded the crowds to ask
The release of just Barabbas.
So when the governor asked them,
They cried, ‘Release just Barabbas! ’
‘What shall I do with Jesus then? ’
When Pilate asked, they cried aloud,
‘Let Him be crucified to death! ’
‘What evil has He done? ’ he asked.
They shouted loud, ‘Crucify Him! ’
As Pilate knew, he wouldn’t succeed,
And riot could break amidst crowd,
He washed his hands with water and
Said, ‘I’m innocent of this blood! ’
The people then cried in reply,
‘Let His blood be upon us then,
And upon our very children! ’
Then Pilate released Barabbas.
And Jesus was afterwards scourged
And handed to be crucified.
The governor’s soldiers took Him
Inside the praetorium wherein,
The whole cohort had gathered there.
And having stripped His clothes off Him,
They threw a scarlet cloak instead.
They wove a crown of thorns for head,
And in His right hand, placed a reed, .
And kneeling before Him, they mocked:
‘Hail, the King of Jews of the world! ’
They spat upon His divine face,
And used the reed to strike His head;
They took away the cloak on Him,
And dressed Him in His own old clothes,
Then led Him to be crucified.
They asked a Cyrenian named
Simon, to help Him carry cross.
And when they came to Golgotha,
A place, meaning place of the skull,
They gave Him gall-mixed wine to drink.
And after crucifying Him,
They divided His clothes through lots;
They sat and kept watch over Him;
They wrote above His head the charge:
‘This is Jesus, the King of Jews! ’
Two persons too were crucified,
One on His right, other on left;
Some passing by, reviled at Him
And said, ‘You told you would destroy
The temple, rebuild in three days,
If you’re Son of God, save yourself,
And come down from the cross at once! ’
Like-wise the scribes, chief priests, elders,
All mocked at Him and remarked thus:
‘He saves others but couldn’t Himself!
If He be king of Israel then,
Let Him un-nail Himself from cross,
And we shall then believe in Him! ’
‘He put His trust in God wholesome;
Let God deliver Him right now
For, He said, ‘I’m the Son of God! ’
The persons crucified with Him,
Abused Him also in same way.
From noon onwards, there came darkness
Over the land, till three o’clock!
At three o’clock, then Jesus cried
Out in loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli,
Lema sabachthani? ’ which means
My God, my God, why forsake me?
Some by-standers who heard this said,
‘The man is calling Elijah! ’
So, one of them brought out a sponge,
And soaked in wine, upon a reed,
And held it to His lips to drink.
The rest said, ‘Wait, let us now see
If Elijah comes to save Him! ’
Then Jesus cried again aloud,
And gave His spirit up to God.
Behold, the sanctuary’s veil tore
In two from top to bottom then;
The earth too quaked as rocks got split!
Opened were many tombs of saints
Who had been dead but raised again,
And appeared to men in city!
The centurion and men on guard,
Got frightened by the quake that came,
And said, ’Truly, this was God’s Son! ’
There were some women standing there;
From Galilee, they followed Him;
They were Mary Magdalene and
Mary, mother of James, Joseph;
And mother of Zebedee’s sons.
When evening fell, a rich man came
From Arimathea called Joseph,
Disciple of Jesus, as well;
He requested Pilate to hand
Over the body of Jesus,
And Pilate ordered to take it.
Then Joseph wrapped the whole body
In white linen, from head to foot,
And laid it in a tomb anew,
That had been hewn from solid rock.
They rolled a stone that was so huge
Across the entrance of the tomb,
And went away as both Marys
Were sitting there, facing the tomb!
The chief priests and the Pharisees
Gathered before Pilate, next day
And said, ’Sir, while alive, He said
Three days after, He’ll be raised up!
So, give orders to close the grave,
Lest disciples steal Him away
And tell the people, ‘He’s risen! ’
So, Pilate said. ‘The guard is yours;
Secure it as best as you can.’
They went and rolled a stone across
The entrance of the tomb and sealed
And placed their guards to protect it!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-15-2007
poem by John Celes
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September 8th – Dear Mother Mary’s Birthday!
If not for Mary, would we have Jesus?
If not for Jesus, would we know Mary?
She was a Lady, prophesied truly;
She crushed serpent’s head, through Christ’s birth duly!
Her seed was Jesus, who fought the devil;
He won temptations, and over evil!
Mary was special, chosen by Maker,
To be Heaven’s Queen, God so did make her!
Mary was born of two saints, tells history;
Virgin was sin-free, says Bible story;
Her conception was immaculate, yes!
Generations will forever her, bless!
“Happy Birthday, Dear Mother Mary! ”
We gratefully recite your Rosary.
Prayerfully dedicated to our Heavenly Mother
By Dr. Celestine, wife Mercy, daughters: Cathy and Diana
Copyright by Dr John Celes 08-09-11
poem by John Celes
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Prayer-song to Mother Mary
Queen of heaven and of earth,
She was virgin until birth
Of Lord Jesus, Son of God,
Through humbleness, faith and nod!
Hail Mary filled with God’s grace,
Raised above all men on earth;
You lived with a heavenly gaze,
Until assumed to God’s mirth.
Mother Mary, pray for us;
Get us divine forgiveness,
For the sins that we had done,
Crucifying Christ, your son!
Mother Mary, tell your son:
Keep the devils on the run;
Free our souls from every sin;
Against satan, help us win!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-17-2009
poem by John Celes
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Mother Mary
Like no other
from the time
I saw first light,
mother Mary sacrificed
her life for me.
In times of desolation
when all others doubt me,
mother Mary still believes
in my integrity.
In times of darkness
when no other is near,
mother Mary talks to me
and tries to set my eyes
back on the light
and her voice
is the only one that I hear.
Every morning before the day begins
mother Mary’s prayers
goes to the King of kings,
telling Him of all the things
that living brings to me.
When all hope is gone
and all things are done,
mother Mary takes my hand
and reminds me to trust
and that the new morning
is very near.
Beyond reason
when there’s no indication
that any answer
or victory is possible,
mother Mary still believes
and the Almighty One
touches me through her.
Age is making mother Mary frail
and time is rushing by
and I am afraid
that the end is coming near
and although life has taken
its toll from her
mother Mary is like no other
and will always be
my dearest mother.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sonnet: Prayer to Mother Mary
The Virgin Mother wearing stars for crown,
As angels sing a choir around her head,
And with Her feet, crushing the ‘serpent’ down!
‘Hail Mary, full of grace! ’ the angels said.
‘The lord’s with Thee; Thou art bless’d ’mongst women!
And bless’d is Jesus Christ, fruit of thy womb, ’
The mother of God and Queen of Heaven,
Our intercessor with God, beyond our tomb!
O Lady born without Original Sin,
Who brought forth Jesus on that Christmas night;
Our fight against temptations- helps us win;
O Mother chaste assumed by Heaven’s light.
Mother of sorrows- when Christ died on cross,
Please pray for us for our Heavenly cause.
30-8-2001
poem by John Celes
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The Burden
One grief on me is laid
Each day of every year,
Wherein no soul can aid,
Whereof no soul can hear:
Whereto no end is seen
Except to grieve again--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where is there greater pain?
To dream on dear disgrace
Each hour of every day--
To bring no honest face
To aught I do or say:
To lie from morn till e'en--
To know my lies are vain--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where can be greater pain?
To watch my steadfast fear
Attend mine every way
Each day of every year--
Each hour of every day:
To burn, and chill between--
To quake and rage again--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where shall be greater pain:
One grave to me was given--
To guard till Judgment Day--
But God looked down from Heaven
And rolled the Stone away!
One day of all my years--
One hour of that one day--
His Angel saw my tears
And rolled the Stone away!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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‘Happy Birthday! ' Dear Mary, Mother of Christ.
Blest is the virgin child who rose
To be, Christ's mother upon earth,
Although immaculate by birth,
And through her fiat, though God chose!
Blest is the womb that bore Jesus,
‘Immanuel' or ‘God with us! '
For although vexed in mind and heart,
Obeying God, she did her part!
Blest is the disciple of Christ,
Who made Him do miracles first;
And shared His agony till cross,
With sorrowful heart, by His loss!
Blest is the Eve who's Heaven's Queen,
With stars upon her crown for sheen,
Who intercedes for sinners all,
Who repent and obey God's call!
Blest is the Lady God-favoured;
To those who pray, she keeps her word;
Recite the rosary and see,
The world of men, transformed holy!
We wish you ‘Happy Birthday' Mother dear;
Heaven rejoicing today, let's all hear;
When we succumb to death, may you be near,
And preserve soul from mortal sin's great fear!
Dedicated lovingly to the Blessed Mary, ever Virgin!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-09-12
poem by John Celes
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‘Happy Birthday’, Mother Mary!
8th September – your birthday,
O Queen of heaven, all say;
The grace that filled your heart, aye,
Gave us and world, a mighty day.
O Maria Bambina!
Daughter of Joachim and Anne;
You acceded to God’s request
Through angel Gabriel.
You grew up in great piety;
God chose you from amongst women –
A virgin to mother a child,
A baby boy, Immanuel!
By pow’r of Spirit Holy,
You bore the sacred baby,
In your womb of sanctity,
O Mother Virgin Mary.
Hail Mary, Mother of Jesus;
Heavenly mother of mankind;
Look down with mercy upon us,
Ask God to cleanse our sin-stained souls!
O New Eve of the world of men!
The Word became flesh in your womb,
And born was the Lord, ‘King of Kings’:
You trounced Satan forever then.
Conceived without Original Sin,
Becoming Mother of God;
You set aside all Natural laws,
And gave birth to the Lord.
You brought Salvation to mankind
Through Jesus Christ your son,
Who came as Savior, Messiah,
And suffered a death on cross!
O Lady of great chastity!
You obeyed Almighty’s one wish;
Exalted more than angels, saints,
Heaven is now your true abode.
O perfect vessel made by God!
Afilled by grace up to the brim;
The most blessed among women,
Our Intercessor, Pure of heart.
O Mary most immaculate,
Assumed into heaven by God;
Do pray for us sinners on earth
And protect souls from fire of hell.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-08-08
poem by John Celes
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The Assumption of BVM
The tomb is empty
– Mary’s tomb!
-The only sanctified
-most womb;
The Assumption
A Feast that’s on
August 15th
For lady one,
With conception
Immaculate:
She bore a son –
Emmanuel.
She wore the sun
As her pure garb;
She had the moon
Under her feet;
She had twelve stars
On head as crown;
The war she won
Against satan.
She left the world
Her work well done;
With body, soul
Into Heaven,
As Apostles
Kept looking on!
Queen of heaven;
Mother of God;
Mother of Jesus
Christ, our Lord;
Do pray for us,
We sinners all;
To repent well,
And hear God’s call!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 08-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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Good Friday
The Crucifixion- Jesus Spoke Seven Times
The day was Friday and time: Nine O’clock:
To Golgotha, the ‘Place of Skull’, they came;
And on the cross, they wrote His glorious name:
I N R I: in Latin, Greek, Hebrew-
‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews’
And Jesus spoke for the very first time:
‘Father, forgive them for they do not know
What they are doing.” Lk 23: 34
They tore His garments and auctioned them Mt 27: 25
They mocked at Jesus, and spat on his face; Mt 27: 39
The thieves spoke angrily to him but one
Believed that Jesus was truly a king.
And Jesus spoke for the second time thus:
“Truly, I say to you, today,
You will be with me in Paradise.” Lk 23: 43
When Jesus spoke the third time, He told His mother,
“Woman, this is your son.”
And to the disciple, He said,
‘This is your mother.” Jn 19: 26-27
The robbers two, were crucified with Him;
One to His left and other, to His right;
At noon-time, darkness fell: the land turned dim;
Till three O’clock, there was not much of light;
When Jesus spoke for the fourth time aloud:
‘Eli, Eli, lema sabackthani! ’ which meant:
‘My God, My God, Why have You forsaken me? ’
When Jesus spoke for the fifth time, He said,
“I thirst, ” Jn 19: 30 and they offered a sponge with vinegar!
And the sixth time when Jesus spoke:
‘It is finished; and ‘it is accomplished’ Jn 19: 28
And when He spoke for the seventh time
It was the last and Jesus cried aloud:
“Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit” Lk23: 46
A soldier pierced the side of Jesus when,
Blood and water gushed forth from the wound!
The curtain of the Temple was torn apart
And there came upon the land, an earthquake. Mt 27: 51-54
Jesus was taken off the cross and buried. Mk 15: 46
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-21-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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St. John, Apostle and Evangelist
The younger son of father, Zebedee,
And younger brother of St. James, the great;
His mother was Mary’s sister, Salome;
He was the disciple whom Jesus loved.
A fisherman like his father,
He fished in Genesaret Lake;
Called ‘Boanerges’ by Jesus,
Meaning ‘sons of thunder (anger) ’.
Born in Bethsaida, Galilee AD6,
One of twelve apostles of Christ;
A former disciple of St John, the Baptist,
A ‘half-cousin’ of Jesus Christ.
John was called Evangelist too;
A friend of Jesus, fast and thick;
He sat near Christ at Last Supper;
He went to jail with St. Peter.
Called ‘Apostle of Charity’;
St John the Theologian;
St John the divine;
He saw Peter heal the lame man.
He witnessed Jairus’ daughter being raised,
And was in Gethsemane with Peter;
He called Christ, the Lamb of God;
He was a ‘pillar of the Church’.
With Mary, John stood near the cross,
And Jesus said, ‘This is your son! ’
And to John, ‘This is your mother! ’
He saw Jesus when transfigured.
He ran with Peter to Christ’s grave,
Believing Him to have risen;
He recognized Jesus ashore,
When he appeared after He rose.
Thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil,
He did not suffer injury.
He was banished to Patmos isle.
He wrote his gospel at Ephesus.
He wrote the fourth Gospel;
He wrote three epistles;
The Book of Revelation (Apocalypse):
He founded churches in Asia Minor.
He died at AD 100 when,
He was extremely old by then;
He died on Sept 26th.
His feast is on Dec 27th.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-07-‘08
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jesus Or Barabbas?
Barabbas stood before the crowd,
Then Pontius Pilate spoke,
'One freed prisoner I'm allowed! '
And yet it was no joke.
The King rejected was Jesus,
Still crowned with bloodied thorns.
Then they selected Barabbas,
From whom all hatred spawns.
The Nazarene was led away,
To climb Golgotha's hill...
Barabbas didn't choose to stay
To watch another kill.
He'd seen enough of Roman death
And vowed revenge and more
And yet Jesus of Nazareth
Was so hard to ignore...
A trail of blood led to the Cross...
And there God's Son was nailed...
And though divine, He stayed because
God's faith in Him prevailed.
His Mother, Mary, mourned and mourned
As hours slowly passed...
And while the wicked scorned and scorned,
The sky was overcast.
In twilight now, as darkness fell,
A faithful thief thought twice.
When Jesus rescued him from Hell,
He promised Paradise.
That very day, as Jesus said,
Both souls would soon depart
And just to check if Christ was dead,
They pierced Him through the heart.
But God was faithful to His Son...
Christ left His shroud behind!
Through Easter, we know Christ has won
Salvation for Mankind!
Forgiveness granted through God's plan!
Christ's blood has proved enough!
Behold the Cross! Behold the Man!
Behold the King of Love...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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