I Went To A Fiesta Today
it is the feast of San Vicente today,
and all those places named after this saint
took turns in butchering their chickens and pigs
as offering to the powerful miracles of this saint.
some played their gongs to remind
them of the rhythm of love and action
because this saint taught and
showed that God has the power
to cure the sick and liberate
the minds of those who are in prison.
i went to the house of this woman who once
was mad. She confessed her sins of commission
and omission.
She once kicked her husband and
left him.
Now she is serving us food and stays beside her husband.
She smiles. She remembers everything.
Once she once was in deep depression and she prayed a lot
at the chapel of San Vicente.
Light shone upon her forehead.
There was a dove. There was fire. There was a voice.
And surely enough she went home
whole and cured.
Hence, this feast, this thanksgiving, she said.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
There's a snake coming out of the darkness
Parade from paradise
End the need for eden
Chase the dreams of merchandise
There is tic and toc in atomic
Leaders make a deal
The cosmic is largely comic
A con they couldn't conceal
There is no safe seat at the feast
Take your best stab at the beast
The night is turning thin
The saint is turning to sin
Raise the art to resistance
Danger dare to be grand
Pride reduced to humble pie
Diamonds down to sand
Take heart from earth and weather
The brightness of new birth
Take heart from the harvest
Shave the harvest from the earth
Reasoning is partly insane
Image just an eyeless game
The night is turning thin
The saint is turning to sin
Miracles will have their claimers
More will bow to rome
He and she are in the house
But there's only me at home
Rose is a rose of splendor
Posed to respond in the end
Lonely things like nights,
I find, end finer with a friend
I hear in the rate of her heart
A tear in the heat of the art
The night turns thin
The saint turns to sin
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first seeding on the feast of All Saints and the last on the feast of Saint Andrew.
St. Leonard
Of Frankish noble stock was born
Saint Leonard in 5th century.
His people were king’s courtiers
Of Clovis I, a pagan king;
He prayed to God for safe childbirth
and queen had a safe delivery.
The queen had joked to Leonard once
To stop an army’s invasion,
And Leonard prayed to living God,
And turned the battle’s tide, his side!
The king and many others got
Converted to Christianity;
Leonard had rode a donkey all day,
And got the land from king afree!
There-in, he built his monastery
And lived a hermit’s life austere
Preaching about the God, one true;
His brother Lifiard turned a saint!
Leonard then went to Limousin,
A forest where he lived alone,
a life of solitude and ate
just herbs and fruits found in the wild.
Converting those who came his way,
releasing prisoners by his sway,
he turned a saint and passed away.
They built some churches in his name:
the patron saint of prisoners all;
women in labor, locksmiths, miners.
Nov 6th is St. Leonard’s feast day.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-11-11
poem by John Celes
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You're living in paradise
I'm getting tired of hearing your silly complaints.
You're angry because your husband isn't a saint.
Your husband forgets and leaves the toilet seat up and you think this isn't very nice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
Your husband has a few flaws but in my eyes he's great.
When I tell you about some other husbands, he'll be a man who you 'll appreciate.
I've seen husbands who beat and raped their wives and some husbands who even threatened them with guns.
And you complain about the superficial things your husband has done.
Close to where I live, a man killed his wife and then set her on fire.
Be thankful that your life isn't so dire.
These poor women's lives have been completely destroyed.
And you have the nerve to complain because your husband goes out once a week with the boys.
Before you complain about your husband again, maybe you should think twice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Little Saint Nick
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Oooooooo oooooooo
Well, way up north where the air gets cold
Theres a tale about christmas that youve all been told
And a real famous cat all dressed up in red
And he spends the whole year workin out on his sled
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Just a little bobsled we call it old saint nick
But shell walk a toboggan with a four speed stick
Shes candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel
And when santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
Whoaa
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
He dont miss no one
And haulin through the snow at a frightenin speed
With a half a dozen deer with rudy to lead
Hes gotta wear his goggles cause the snow really flies
And hes cruisin every pad with a little surprise
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marry The Sea
Marry the sea St George
Because the sea is looking for a husband just like you
Have you been at the sea Saint George?
Have you ever felt in love with the sea?
How many times have you been inloved with the sea Saint George?
Once, twice, or three times
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Sister Alphonsa (Aug 1910 – July 1946) From Blessed One to Saint
The cradle of Christianity
In India is Kerala-
Where Saint Thomas, the Apostle
Set foot, two thousand years ago.
The fourth child of father, Ouseph,
She lost her mother, Mariam,
When she was just three years of age,
Remaining sick, all through her life.
‘Be a nun, my child’- were the words,
A Carmelite nun said to her:
These were engraved within her heart
Of love for Jesus Christ, till death.
She did not want to get married;
She chose to be a nun in life;
So, burnt her leg in live ash-pit,
To prove her wish to follow Christ.
She joined the Franciscan Convent
Of Clarist nuns and took her vows;
She suffered pain all life in bed,
But offered it to Jesus Christ.
With pain and agony, she lived,
Self-mortified a life for Christ;
Her suffering had turned all joy,
When love of Savior, filled her heart.
She suffered from malaria,
And Tuberculosis and ulcer;
Some doubted her piety too;
But in the end, just truth triumphed.
A robber attacked her by night,
And left her bleeding and upset;
She died when just thirty-seven;
Of double pneumonia illness.
A one-year boy of Kottayam
Was cured of his deformity,
When parents prayed over her tomb,
Starting a string of miracles!
Beatified by John Paul II,
In 1986 itself,
She wrought miracles numerous,
For devotees who prayed to her.
Young children flocked to see her tomb
And prayed to Sister Alphonsa;
Their handicaps were cured at once;
Ailments of stomach vanished fast.
Some barren wombs had gift of child;
All kinds of ailments vanished fast;
She interceded when they prayed
To God and miracles were wrought.
Her name has brought her hometown fame;
The sister will be canonized
On October twelfth of this year-
First Indian nun and female saint!
Like how wheat grains are crushed and ground
To bake the Holy Eucharist;
And grapes are pressed to make good wine,
Our sufferings too make us good.
Her tomb at Bharananganam,
Is famous pilgrimage centre.
She is the proof of God’s great works;
The road to sainthood isn’t easy!
Dedicated to the loving memory
Of the Venerable Sis. Alphonsa,
Who will be declared Saint shortly.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-6-2008
poem by John Celes
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A saint is a person who gives of themself without asking for anything in return. That's how simple it is to be a saint. Try it! Try being a saint.
quote by Edward James Olmos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unsaintly
Two saints on a long journey
Towards some unknown destiny
On their way met a pretty houri
At the riverside of Kaveri
She prayed them humbly
“Oh! Hermits holy! Can you take me
To the other side of Kaveri”
The younger saint said with fury
“Don’t you see oh lady?
We are saints! Don’t touch thy body!
But the older saint said kindly
“Oh! Young lady
Climb my shoulders! I’ll carry”
Crossed the river all the three
The girl left the company
Saints resumed their odyssey
After a long walk silently
Burst out the young saint wildly
“You have done something unsaintly
How could you carry that lady? ”
The older saint smiled and said coolly
“I left her at the banks of Kaveri
Do you still carry her in mind heavily? ”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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A Saint
My father wouldn't talk to my own brother
And then he was mad at my own mother
So for that I preached, and I prayed and I cried
Now through wonders they are at each others side
So now this sounds odd and probably quaint
But if I perform another miracle will I be a saint.
If a Pope performs a miracle he becomes a saint
That is what I read and heard and I think its quaint
But not one miracle, he must perform two
I guess if the first was falsify then the second one will do
But what is a miracle this if I need to ask
Is it a cat that talks or a dog that laughs,
Isn't it a Miracle when a child is born
And Isn't it a miracle when a sinner loves the Lord
Or is it a miracle when someone is cured of the flu
And I wander if that one miracle, would really do.
Also you must be pure and you must be Kind
Then be virtuous, prudent and devout all the time.
So if I forgive my wife the adulterous and the whore,
Whom in Scotland was known to be at all mans door,
If I forgive the sins she committed against others and me
Also with the lying and the using and the hate I did see,
And the whoring she did here behind my back
With integrity and soul and compassion she did lack
If I could cover all her evils with a coat of black paint
I mean if there was that much paint, would I be a saint.
As I been told hat would be a miracle true and true
Taking the sin out of a heart that was never loyal or true,
Taking the cheating out of a heart that's born to cheat
Be like stopping the blood from that heart that beats,
So through the grace of GOD and compassion of man
I think whole heartily that will be my life's plan
Forgive her of sins she committed against me and others
So the sins wont befall upon her daughters or even her mother
So as I say I forgive her, I feel as though I might faint
But If I perform this miracle, I know I will be a Saint.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A saint is a person who gives himself without asking for anything in return. That's how simple it is to be a saint. Try it! Try being a saint.
quote by Edward James Olmos
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Charity Ball
What matter the pangs of a husband and father,
If his sorrows in exile be great or be small,
So the Pharisee's glories around her she gather,
And the saint patronizes her 'charity ball!'
What matters--a heart which, though faulty, was feeling,
Be driven to excesses which once could appal--
That the sinner should suffer is only fair dealing,
As the saint keeps her charity back for 'the ball'!
A Prayer for Thanksgiving,2010
A Prayer for Thanksgiving,2010
Lord, we humbly thank you
For the feast you set before us.
The harvest has been fruitful,
And you preserved us to enjoy it.
The year has been a challenge
for our oldest and our dearest,
but baby Julia’s lately come
with her toothless smiles to cheer us.
Our wives and daughters have prepared
a great Thanks Giving feast.
The places set, the wines been poured.
I’ll gain five pounds at least
We give thanks that we’re together.
Far too often we are not.
With the children off in college
And work keeping us apart.
Inspire us with charity
Towards those who need help living
-Remind us of the best of us
one missing from this table
Who earned Your thanks by giving
all that she was able.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Saint Cloud
Soft spread the southern sumer night
Her veil of darksome blue;
Ten thousand stars combined to light
The terrace of Saint Cloud.
The evening breezes gently sigh'd,
Like breath of lover true,
Bewailing the deserted pride
And wreck of sweet Saint Cloud.
The drum's deep roll was heard afar,
The bugle wildly blew
Good-night to Hulan and Hussar
That garrison Saint Cloud.
The startled Naiads from the shade
With broken urns withdrew
And silenced was that proud cascade,
The glory of Saint Cloud.
We sate upon its steps of stone,
Nor could its silence rue
When waked, to music of our own,
The echoes of Saint Cloud.
Slow Seine might hear each lovely note
Fall light as summer dew
While through the moonless air they float
Prolong'd from fair Saint Cloud.
And sure a melody more sweet
His waters never knew,
Though music's self was wont to meet
With Princes at Saint Cloud.
Nor then, with more delighted ear,
The circle round her drew,
Than ours, when gather'd round to hear
Our songstress at Saint Cloud.
Few happy hours poor mortals pass-—
Then give those hours their due,
And rank among the foremost class
Our evenings at Saint Cloud.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Adulterous Wife
As her Children sleep in their bed
While her husband lays down his sleepy head
She quietly gets up and starts continuing her lies,
As this is the story, of the Adulterous wife.
She lies and cheats and do the sins that she shouldn't,
Sadly though, this isn't the first time for this woman
As in her past she has done this all before
Sadly her husband didn't know, that he had married a whore.
As when he is at work, she was never at home
And when her girl's slept, she was never alone
She lied and cheated and used her husband for a price
As this is the story of the Adulterous wife.
She sneaks out of the house whenever she can
So she can jump in the bed of another man
He then uses her, and then she lies to him
But neither can lie to GOD, when their beginning becomes their end.
And when her daughter's get older and they feel the strife
I wander if they will be like their mother, the adulterous wife
She argues and fights with her husband all the time
Loyalty and love to her husband has been left far behind.
The vow she swore to GOD she has broke it once again
Now she is a marked woman, in front of women and men
She has affairs with her lovers, that only the devil could believe
Asking them to come and rescue her, and set herself free.
She is never happy unless she is in another mans bed
Only happiness she brings that man, is when he is dead
She tells her lies and say all her men of hers are abusers
But she never let them know, that she is but a user.
And she'll keep her lies from yesterday unto today
And while she sins, other men lay down to pray
How sad it is to live that type of sinful life
But this is the true story of the Adulterous wife.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Saint Valentine defines Tough Love
When those you most love
die
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When those you have most loved
up and go, without a word,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When those you would most love
want nothing to do with you,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When you feel that all you need right now
is a little love, to change your life,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When you feel cheated by love
because it's never come your way,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
Trust me. It's not easy to become a saint;
said Saint Valentine.
XXX.St.V.
(revised)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Husband...
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
poem by Sarah Holmes
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Magdalena
Writers: danny okeefe
Magdalena sits in her chair
Speaking on the mass
She talks in splice and splinters
She laughs not breaking glass
She said that she would have me
Spirit her away
Stealing all my images
Till theres nothin left to say
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
She tells me that she wants me
Then she tells me not to bother
She tells me that I couldnt hold
A candle to her father
She knows that shes got me
When I start to rave about
Shell justsmile and flash her eyes
And blow the candle out
Oh, magdalena
Oh, ho, ho, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Magdalena lying there
Could make a dancer stumble
Make a preacher bite his tongue
And leave him with a mumble
And if you think Im crazy babe
Or that Im kiddin you
Just pay your dues and lose your blues
When she gets her tongue in you
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Well, I cant be forgotten
And I cant be ignored
You find me with my poems
And my songs
But if upon your journey youre turning to l.a.
Wont you take this little red-haired girl aong?
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
Your love is like a razor
My heart is just a scar
Oh, magdalena
Nothing like the saint you are
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sinner Or Saint
Stand bold, for the ride,
Right now, you know that is the place to be
To watch humankind, stumble into another century
Take no prisoners,
Their sure at giving you the run-around
Violance, on your mind,
Cus your attention is the battleground
What are you?
A sinner or saint
You gotta be
A sinner or saint
Ice cool walawyers,
Straight up and guerentee your gonna get
All that you deserve,
Sit down, blockin your way, seen nothin yet
(chorus)
What are you?
That is your fate
You gotta be
A sinner or saint
Some poeple love too fast
Some people live too long
And so Ive got to ask
Do you know right from wrong?
Disa-ssembler, will you ever, really be a saint...
Still on for the ride,
Who cares if you loose or win
They can bleed you dry,
When youre, a pumping the adrenelin
(chorus)
What are you?
Its never too late
You gotta be
A sinner or saint..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saint Valentine on Tough Love
When those you most love
die
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When those you have most loved
up and go, without a word,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When those you would most love
want nothing to do with you,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When you feel that all you need right now
is a little love, to change your life,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
When you feel cheated by love
because it's never come your way,
that's the time to speak in praise of love
(said Saint Valentine) .
Trust me. It's not easy to become a saint;
said Saint Valentine.
XXX.St.V.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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