the modern martyr in the kingdom of God
i've just seen the picture of a man
devout catholic
gunned down in broad day,
falling to the ground,
and declared another martyr for
mother church,
sooner he becomes a saint
because he died
to the hands of the fanatics
the unbelievers,
sometimes i ask myself if this is the only way to become
a martyr, the only way to be a saint,
(does it really matter if one becomes a saint?)
i guess, there is another happy child of God
who has worked for the church
who cooked faith, who served beliefs,
who traveled far just to show how good God is,
the happy child does not have to die
for God wants him to be with his side,
smiling and alive,
He too is a saint. He sowed happiness.
He did not plant guilt. He did not grown scruples.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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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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Prayer to St. Francis
'The eyes of the saint make all beauty holy and the hands of the saint consecrate everything they touch.' Thomas Merton
Look at me, O Saint,
sagging skin,
thinning hair, face
lined with roads
too far traveled.
Can you see
in me God's
beauty?
Then touch me!
O take into
your holy palms
my living heart.
Fill me with desire!
Make of me
a holy psalm,
consecrated host,
eternal fire.
poem by Steven Federle
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St. Adrian
to St. Adrian I give thanks
the dead leader of dead Roman ranks
a silent prayer to the Roman man
that calm man like deadly white hands
his steadfast wife even locked her door
when she thought he was like her no more
so a prayer to Adrian, saint of knights
a St. only after the lion beasts rites
to him be a morsel of honor, be it true
not more flames or a blunt corkscrew
to Saint Adrian I give thanks
the dead leader of dead Roman ranks
enter the night of Adrianus Incarsaurus
the holy, now, of Rome...MARTYR US!
to Saint Adrian, the saint, the beast
oh cover us, Adrian, from Abaddon and the beast
to Saint Adrian I give thanks
the dead leader of dead Roman ranks
sing your hymn with the name on your lips
or simply, silently 'Adrian' in felt tips
to him be a morsel of honor, be it true
not more flames, or unjust undo
to the leader of dead Roman ranks
to St. Adrian I give thanks
poem by Michael Cook
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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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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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0109 Upon the Feast of Saint Valentine
roses are red
(well, some are white) :
Saint Valentine says
he needs poets to write...
roses are red
(well, some are pink) :
Saint Valentine says
he needs hearts expressed in ink..
poems are read;
that's the good news here;
Saint Valentine's day
could last all year...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Nasrudin's donkeys
1
it’s graduation day
and the teacher gives awards
to each:
a book to one
a staff to another
silk or precious stones;
and to Nasrudin
the teacher
gives a donkey
2
It is some years
and the teacher
hears of Nasrudin’s fame
and comes to visit
the House of Prayer Nasrudin oversees
and to pay homage to the Saint
buried just beside
3
O Nasrudin,
says the teacher -
how great your fame
and vast your following
Tell me, which Eminent Saint
is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?
O Master,
says Nasrudin
It’s the donkey
you gave me
It died just 4 years after
and I buried him here
And everyone wants a Saint
so I have not disabused people
of their faith
4
The teacher nods with a smile
and Nasrudin continues:
But tell me Master –
which Eminent Saint is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?
Ah, Nasrudin, says the teacher
though people believe it’s a Saint
it’s really your dead donkey’s mother
poem by Raj Arumugam
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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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You cannot make a sinner into a saint by killing him. He who does not live as a saint here will never live as a saint hereafter.
quote by Charles Spurgeon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is not the punishment but the cause that makes the martyr.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who does not have the church as his mother does not have God as his Father.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Werevolves
They go on the stage these days and it seems very busy.
They squeak to snatch your innocent vote,
Stalking horses vow to make an utopia,
The poor pilgrims stampede in this magical theatre
And when they become statesmen
You get startle of their whereabouts.
* [Today for the first time I stepped into the Church of Saint Anthony Catholic community at Longbeach California, though I am a Buddhist I have a special regard on St.Anthony as he held the baby Jesus.When others worship I too knelt for morning prayers.'Oh! My sincere Saint this dark tunnel of life is too long as same as Longbeach and I have a little doubt whether I could see the faint light at the end in the given time.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Saint Jeanne Jugan (Foundress of ‘Little Sisters of the Poor’)
When four, she lost her father while at sea!
Her mother worked hard, raising family!
She grew in France amidst Revolution;
Her love of God was her life’s solution.
She cared for sick and poor elderly souls,
By assuming the humblest of earth’s roles!
Young Jeanne Jugan grew up a shepherdess;
Her love for Jesus made her a Foundress!
With heart aflame with fire of love for God,
She sacrificed her life for Jesus Lord!
Through exemplary life, she showed the world
That love of God was worth more than all gold.
The elderly poor needed love and care;
So, young Jeanne chose the road traveled quite rare.
Her charity became a noble cause;
She worked for poor without making a pause.
It was a time when violence was rife,
And begging was common by those in strife;
She followed Christ, carrying her cross of life,
And served the poor and downtrodden all life.
Her name was ‘Sister Mary of the cross! ’
All life, Christ Jesus Lord was her one boss!
‘Come to my aid, O God, ’ she prayed and cried
all life in humility, till she died!
A Saint for elderly and every age,
She wrote her life upon a golden page;
She saw the Lord in every poor man’s face,
And served God through her love of human race!
‘God wanted her all for Himself, ’ she said,
‘And kept her for a work yet unfounded! ’
On October eleven, two thousand nine,
The Blessed Jeanne Jugan became a Saint!
Dedicated fondly in memory of the Sister Saint.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-25-2009
poem by John Celes
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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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Another Good Reason
(harley allen/carson chamberlain)
I woke up the other night
Lying on the floor
Right beside someone
Ive never seen before
She said my names juliet
And romeo you aint
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
I cant go see my best friend
He said stay away
Just because of what I said
On his wedding day
He oughta call a sherman
Cause she looks just like a tank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Im gonna sue to city
About that policeman
Last night as I left the bar
He stepped right on my hand
He said are you drunk or blind?
I said let me think.
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason
Baby let me in Im freezing
Another good reason not to drink
song performed by by Alan Jackson
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
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De Bell Of St. Michel
Go 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole bell of Saint Michel,
For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat very well,
No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out de soun',
It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg Yankee town.
An' w'en it ring, I t'ink I feel de cool, cool summer breeze
Dat's blow across Lac Peezagonk, an' play among de trees,
Dey're makin' hay, I know mese'f, can smell de pleasant smell
O! how I wish I could be dere to-day on Saint Michel!
It's fonny t'ing, for me I'm sure, dat's travel ev'ryw'ere,
How moche I t'ink of long ago w'en I be leevin' dere;
I can't 'splain dat at all, at all, mebbe it's naturel,
But I can't help it w'en I hear de bell of Saint Michel.
Dere's plaintee t'ing I don't forget, but I remember bes'
De spot I fin' wan day on June de small san'piper's nes'
An' dat hole on de reever w'ere I ketch de beeg, beeg trout
Was very nearly pull me in before I pull heem out.
An' leetle Elodie Leclaire, I wonner if she still
Leev jus' sam' place she use to leev on 'noder side de hill,
But s'pose she marry Joe Barbeau, dat's alway hangin' roun'
Since I am lef' ole Saint Michel for work on Yankee town.
Ah! dere she go, ding dong, ding dong, its back, encore again
An' ole chanson come on ma head of 'a la claire fontaine,'
I'm not surprise it soun' so sweet, more sweeter I can tell
For wit' de song also I hear de bell of Saint Michel.
It's very strange about dat bell, go ding dong all de w'ile
For when I'm small garçon at school, can't hear it half a mile;
But seems more farder I get off from Church of Saint Michel,
De more I see de ole village an' louder soun' de bell.
O! all de monee dat I mak' w'en I be travel roun'
Can't kip me long away from home on dis beeg Yankee town,
I t'ink I'll settle down again on Parish Saint Michel,
An' leev an' die more satisfy so long I hear dat bell.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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07-18-09** Irish Love
I know I shouldn't of
But I smiled yesterday
When one of my friends
Told me a joke
'Two Irish guys
Are sitting in a pub.'
How many times have I heard
One start out like this
'One guy says to the other,
My wife's a saint
Just a pure saint
My hand to God.'
The other replies,
'Your're lucky
Mine, bless her soul,
Is stiill alive.'
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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