The verger
the verger
-amiable
wears a white top
rights the lady chapel
The Catholic priest
- ingenue
Smiles at his flock
Clutches the Silver
poem by Michael Oliver
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Related quotes
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 curate had the grace to blush
The young curate grew quite harassed
discussing sexuality.
Because he was so embarrased
Although he tried quite doggedly.
When questioned on conjugal rights.
By a young lady to be wed
He tried to be so definite
of duties which pertained to bed.
He stated blithely that a man
had appetites he must fulfil
What rights she asked, had the woman?
The question was beyond his skill.
He only knew what he’d been taught.
Naïve and inexperienced
He did not have a stock retort
and what he said made little sense.
He thought he’d better call a halt.
Refer the lady to the priest
and readily admit his fault.
It did not matter in the least.
The priest could only say the same
relying on the churches rule
He too had never played the game
which left him looking like a fool
The question was legitimate
Why should only men have rights
and women submit to their mate.
She rightly thought would lead to fights.
Neither of them could satisfy
the lady’s curiosity
and she was left to wonder why.
The church favoured celibacy.
You can’t advise if you don’t know
the subject you are asked about.
Which to the lady served to show
the churches failings without doubt.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I guess now that I think back, I used to play priest and be a funny priest. I don't know, I grew up in such a Catholic family that I kind of liked to test the boundaries a little bit and I think I had fun watching my mom laugh.
quote by Jenny McCarthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver Dreams, Golden Smiles
You came to me
In a silver dream
With a glowing flow
Of a mountain stream
You lift my soul
Way beyond the sky
Just to wake me up
With your golden smiles
Chorus:
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
I knew one day
You would come my way
You would help me see
The reality
Heaven and earth
They are one, the same
In my heart I know
When you call my name
Chorus
Dreaming when Im wide awake
See, when my eyes are closed
Flying, I dont need no wings
Being everywhere at once
Hold me, hold me in your arms
Fill me with your glowing grace
Chorus
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wedding of Jenny McGill
There were red roses, and white roses
At the wedding of Jenny McGill,
For she was a Roman Catholic,
And he of the other ilk,
But the priest had refused the Catholic Church
In the way that it was, back then,
For she was a Roman Catholic,
And he Presbyterian.
But her love had bloomed like a red, red rose
And his love had bloomed as well,
For love is the great uniting force
Of the Lord, this side of hell.
So she baked the bread with her loving hands
And he broke the bread with his,
The love shone out of his Protestant eyes
At the thought of wedded bliss.
Now she'd been raised in West Belfast
And he on the Shankill Road,
They were never supposed to fall in love
Like this, so they'd been told,
For the Orange Lord is an English Lord
And shunned, in the Irish way,
While the Lord of the Green is an Irish Lord,
So said the I.R.A.
They warned her once, they warned her twice
This wedding could never be,
For he was a Presbyterian
This John McGonachy,
And children had to be brought up right,
Believe in the Catholic scene,
And fight to unite dear Ireland
For St. Patrick and the Green.
McGonachy was told as well,
No good would come of this,
For he was a Presbyterian
And Jenny a Catholic.
His parents threatened to cut him off,
His friends just said: 'We'll see! '
He even got a visit at work
From the uniformed R.U.C.
But love should break down barriers,
And love should reign supreme,
They looked for a church to wed them both,
The Presbyterian.
She looked a picture when down the aisle
She walked, like an Angel queen,
He wore an Orange buttonhole,
And she a spray of Green.
The vicar read the service as
They gazed in each other's eyes,
Her love had bloomed as a red, red rose,
And his as a white surprise,
They made their vows so tenderly
Her dress, so white, so pale,
And then 'twas time to kiss the bride,
She lifted up her veil.
The stained glass window by the nave
That showed our Lord in grace,
Had lost some of the coloured glass
Around the Saviour's face,
Two shots rang out, and then two more,
The air was very still,
When red, red roses bloomed once more
On the dress of Jenny McGill.
The lovers died in each other's arms
And love died too, that day,
They carried them out of the chapel door
As some others turned to pray,
And some prayed to the Orange Lord
And some to the Green Lord still,
The Lord in the stained glass window wept
At the wedding of Jenny McGill.
They buried her down in a Catholic row,
And him by the Shankill Road,
Even in death they'd be kept apart
By the Green and the Orange code.
But the Lord is love, and he lifted them up
To a dwelling all white and cream,
Where the roses bloom in the wintertime,
And there's neither Orange nor Green.
27 July 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The World Gets a New Pope! - (a prose poem)
Death spares no one!
Death spares no earthling!
Death spares no human being!
Death cuts the thread of life certainly;
And the Pope is no exception!
Pope John Paul II is no more!
The old shepherd had finally passed away;
He was eighty-four when he died;
He fell ill twice quite seriously;
He was Pope for nearly 26 years!
He was the ‘most traveled Pope’ and was a Poet too!
And he stood steadfast in all his spiritual endeavors;
He braved ‘the storms and calmed the seas that tried to capsize the Roman Catholic Ship’!
He led His flock to the Rock!
But some sheep did stray away;
Some had lost their faith;
Some went in search of ‘greener grass in newer meadows’;
But these were the souls which were dissatisfied, distraught and diseased!
A new Shepherd had been finally chosen!
Holy smoke from the Sistine Chapel’s chimney!
On three occasions, it remained black!
The anxious flock stayed back in St.Peter’s Square, all day and night!
They prayed fervently to God to give them a new Shepherd soon;
But each time they saw the black smoke, their hearts filled with sadness;
Yet, their faith never dithered;
The Holy Spirit would answer their prayers fast;
The Holy Spirit had never failed them in the last 2000 years after Jesus Christ!
He had always provided a new Pope whenever the earlier one died;
The people waited anxiously with hope in their hearts that were
already saddened by the demise of Pope John Paul II.
And Lo! There was the smoke again!
But this time, it was white;
The burning of the ballot papers caused the smoke from the Sistine Chapel’s chimney!
And it billowed up into the heavens!
And it was confirmed by the peeling of bells loudly.
A NEW POPE HAD BEEN CHOSEN!
The audio-visual effect was superb;
The flock cheered and sang thanks-giving hymns to the Lord;
They were jubilant and in ecstasy;
The air was rent with ‘Alleluias’!
The Holy Spirit had once more wrought a miracle;
A new Pope had been selected by the secret conclave of 115 cardinals.
God never abandons nor forsakes his flock!
Joseph Ratzinger, a German was the new Pope!
In thirty minutes, he chose the name of Benedict XVI.
He had served as Dean of the College of Cardinals for nearly twenty years earlier;
He was a man of great wisdom;
He was a great Philosopher, Professor of theology and an erudite scholar;
He had stunned the world with his orthodox, traditional approach;
He was simple and understanding, healthy and ever ready for dialogue with other religious leaders;
He was perhaps the best among the rest to lead the Church, in the new millennium;
He would lead the flock of more than a billion Roman Catholic people for the next few years on ‘their road to Heaven’!
‘Hope was reborn in the form of a new Pope’
The new Shepherd would tend to his flock and know each sheep by its name!
And they too would know their Shepherd’s voice and follow his footsteps without any hesitation on ‘The Road to Heaven’!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-4-2005
poem by John Celes
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Sophisticated Lady (She's A Different Lady)
Written by Chuck Jackson, Marvin Yancy and Natalie Cole
Sophisticated lady, sophisticated lady
She's a different lady with a different style
She stands tall and steady like the Eiffel Tower
She is hip to politics but loves her jazz
She's got lots of rhythm she's got lots of class
Everybody knows how she got her name, yeah
Oh, ha, she wears knee length dresses with her high heel steppers
She's not no back stabber but she's sure a pleaser
She talks quiet and gentle, she acts very cool
She sticks close to her lover, she obey God's rules, woh
(Sophisticated lady) Sophisticated lady, yeah
(Sophisticated lady) Oh
(Sophisticated lady) That's her name, that's her name
(Sophisticated lady) Woh, woh
Everybody knows how she got her name
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah----
Woh--, oh, oh, oh, oh
She's the kind of person that you'd like to meet
'Cause she's always smiling and she's always neat
She can start a fire in the coldest man
She's a hip slick sister known throughout the land, oh
(Sophisticated lady) That's her name
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) yeah
Oh, well, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, hoo, that's her name
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) lady, lady
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) oh
Sophisticated lady, (sophisticated lady) ah
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady)
Ooh, ooh (sophisticated lady)
Repeat (Sophisticated lady
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Interesting enough, we had a reunion of the 12 of us who graduated, right? The only one who wasn't there was the guy who became a priest, and he was literally in prison in Libya, for being a Catholic priest. Isn't that interesting? Everybody else made the reunion but that guy.
quote by Peter Jurasik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris
Dear Virgin Mary, far away,
Look down from Heaven while I pray.
Open your golden casement high,
And lean way out beyond the sky.
I am so little, it may be
A task for you to harken me.
O Lady Mary, I have bought
A candle, as the good priest taught.
I only had one penny, so
Old Goody Jenkins let it go.
It is a little bent, you see.
But Oh, be merciful to me!
I have not anything to give,
Yet I so long for him to live.
A year ago he sailed away
And not a word unto today.
I've strained my eyes from the sea-wall
But never does he come at all.
Other ships have entered port
Their voyages finished, long or short,
And other sailors have received
Their welcomes, while I sat and grieved.
My heart is bursting for his hail,
O Virgin, let me spy his sail.
~Hull down on the edge of a sun-soaked sea
Sparkle the bellying sails for me.
Taut to the push of a rousing wind
Shaking the sea till it foams behind,
The tightened rigging is shrill with the song:
'We are back again who were gone so long.'~
One afternoon I bumped my head.
I sat on a post and wished I were dead
Like father and mother, for no one cared
Whither I went or how I fared.
A man's voice said, 'My little lad,
Here's a bit of a toy to make you glad.'
Then I opened my eyes and saw him plain,
With his sleeves rolled up, and the dark blue stain
Of tattooed skin, where a flock of quail
Flew up to his shoulder and met the tail
Of a dragon curled, all pink and green,
Which sprawled on his back, when it was seen.
He held out his hand and gave to me
The most marvellous top which could ever be.
It had ivory eyes, and jet-black rings,
And a red stone carved into little wings,
All joined by a twisted golden line,
And set in the brown wood, even and fine.
Forgive me, Lady, I have not brought
My treasure to you as I ought,
But he said to keep it for his sake
And comfort myself with it, and take
Joy in its spinning, and so I do.
It couldn't mean quite the same to you.
Every day I met him there,
Where the fisher-nets dry in the sunny air.
He told me stories of courts and kings,
Of storms at sea, of lots of things.
The top he said was a sort of sign
That something in the big world was mine.
~Blue and white on a sun-shot ocean.
Against the horizon a glint in motion.
Full in the grasp of a shoving wind,
Trailing her bubbles of foam behind,
Singing and shouting to port she races,
A flying harp, with her sheets and braces.~
O Queen of Heaven, give me heed,
I am in very utmost need.
He loved me, he was all I had,
And when he came it made the sad
Thoughts disappear. This very day
Send his ship home to me I pray.
I'll be a priest, if you want it so,
I'll work till I have enough to go
And study Latin to say the prayers
On the rosary our old priest wears.
I wished to be a sailor too,
But I will give myself to you.
I'll never even spin my top,
But put it away in a box. I'll stop
Whistling the sailor-songs he taught.
I'll save my pennies till I have bought
A silver heart in the market square,
I've seen some beautiful, white ones there.
I'll give up all I want to do
And do whatever you tell me to.
Heavenly Lady, take away
All the games I like to play,
Take my life to fill the score,
Only bring him back once more!
~The poplars shiver and turn their leaves,
And the wind through the belfry moans and grieves.
The gray dust whirls in the market square,
And the silver hearts are covered with care
By thick tarpaulins. Once again
The bay is black under heavy rain.~
The Queen of Heaven has shut her door.
A little boy weeps and prays no more.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Silver Moonbeams
My Lady comes to me in lucid dreams
Just as the mantle clock chimes midnight
She wears a gown of silver moonbeams
We dance until the early morning light
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Sophisticated Lady
Written by chuck jackson, marvin yancy and natalie cole
Sophisticated lady, sophisticated lady
Shes a different lady with a different style
She stands tall and steady like the eiffel tower
She is hip to politics but loves her jazz
Shes got lots of rhythm shes got lots of class
Everybody knows how she got her name, yeah
Oh, ha, she wears knee length dresses with her high heel steppers
Shes not no back stabber but shes sure a pleaser
She talks quiet and gentle, she acts very cool
She sticks close to her lover, she obey gods rules, woh
(sophisticated lady) sophisticated lady, yeah
(sophisticated lady) oh
(sophisticated lady) thats her name, thats her name
(sophisticated lady) woh, woh
Everybody knows how she got her name
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah----
Woh--, oh, oh, oh, oh
Shes the kind of person that youd like to meet
cause shes always smiling and shes always neat
She can start a fire in the coldest man
Shes a hip slick sister known throughout the land, oh
(sophisticated lady) thats her name
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) yeah
Oh, well, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, hoo, thats her name
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) lady, lady
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady) oh
Sophisticated lady, (sophisticated lady) ah
Sophisticated lady (sophisticated lady)
Ooh, ooh (sophisticated lady)
Repeat (sophisticated lady)
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Study (A Soul)
she stands
in the outskirt
of the city
a hundred years of smile
white as granny's
porcelain cup
over the city
the goddess of mercy watches
the family's saviour
three jossticks
each start of day
and end of day
the goddess of mercy
sits in the family's altar
years and years
of smile
and granny's
unwavering faith
as she counts her blessings
and never her prayers
to the catholic
she says she's her own
virgin mary
'they do look quite alike, dont they'
granny smiles to
grandchild who has turned catholic
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I studied with the idea of becoming a Catholic priest.
quote by Peter Jurasik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont You Think It's Time?
children have rights,
women have rights.
lovers have rights.
people of all religions,
and even atheists have rights.
people of all colors,
speaking every language have rights.
trees and rivers have rights.
cats and dogs have rights.
cattle have rights,
homeless people have rights.
prisoners have rights.
democrats and republicans have rights,
even socialists have rights.
the jobless have rights,
old people have rights...
and the hungry have
the right to be fed!
damnit! dont you think it's time?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Sliver Of Silver
A sliver of silver laying on the dunes of the beach
All of them gathered around it, the horsemen, the doctor and priest
When it's midnight glow sparkled into the air, a commotion began
The greed in their eyes as large as can be, they all crafted their own little plan
'LORD give me strength' the Priest would say everyday
He was a good fundamentalist persecuting the nonbelievers all day
He wanted the riches the silver provided
All to himself, completely undivided
The horsemen, on the other hand, was defiantly overeager
He wanted most of the silver, his quantity to equal meager
But the doctor was crafty and gave him bad meds
And the Priest condemned him while lying on his death bed
The doctor stabbed the priest, but had a good attorney
He convinced everyone he was innocent, even Uncle Ernie
He ran through the streets looking for all the riches
But he ran so fast he began to loose his britches
None of the men ended up with the sliver of silver
The morale of this story is not to chase power
If so, what you'll find is all your wine will turn sour
Chase after your dreams and let your hearts decide
How you will change the whole world wide
poem by Jonathan Ross
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Lady in White
Lady in White
By: Adam M. Snow
She stares at me benevolently with her baby blue eyes.
How beautiful she looks, that lady in white.
I try to go on my way, but I hear her gentle cries.
I reached out to help her, but she simply vanished in the night.
Who is this that they call 'Ghost? ' my lovely Lady in White;
and do you know? Could you tell me why does my Lady cry?
Where upon nightfall approaches;
returned to the splintered bridge, where portraits my Lady in White;
only to find her crying, waiting for her lost love.
Truly this is an undesirable sight;
tears fall as she gaze essentially at stars above.
I only wish I could help her, my lovely Lady in White;
to lead her home into the light;
truly it can only be by her might.
I must go on my way and leave my Lady behind.
She's there to stay crying; waiting for her love to return.
Though my heart, I feel her tears fall upon.
From my Lady, there's so much that I learn;
that love never dies, it just lives on.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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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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If we get you in the early years of your life and we fill your head with all of the Catholic stories, then it's very hard for you to stop being Catholic. Catholics are Catholics because they like being Catholic.
quote by Andrew Greeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fake Plastic Trees
Her green plastic watering can
For her fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself.
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
She lives with a broken man,
A cracked polystyreneman
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins.
And it wears him out
It wears him out
It wears him out
It wears...
She looks like the real thing.
She tastes like the real thing,
My fake plastic love
But I cant help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run.
And it wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
If I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time
All the time.
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fake Plastic Tree (acoustic Version)
A green plastic watering can
For a fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself
It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
On girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out
She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out
And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time, all the time
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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