poems

The lamp that lights all darkness, #catholic #poetry

The lamp that lights all darkness,
Is drawn from sorrow´s vein,
Angels tend its lonely wick,
To see its glow remain,
Its rays spark soft and gentle,
Its red bears many scars,
Hang in the sky like ruby stones,
Amidst the twinkling stars.
The Angel’s blessed scourges,
Are brought to feed the flame,
Tortures, sorrows, death and woes,
Brought in Gods holy name,
The lamp can e’er be followed.
But never can be found,
Always lighting higher paths,
Which lead to holy ground
poems

A #poem for #sunday morning #catholic #

I wrote this a few days ago, excellent poem for Sunday Morning:

A strain upon a lyre harp
sweeps a sound so low
That only those who gather round
Can catch its sweetness flow,

A strain which speaks of suffering
A woman’s heart is torn
As she watches martyrdom
For her son she mourns

A strain of sadness at the tomb
She searches for her dead
An angel pointing to the skies
Which dawns a crimson red

A strain upon twelve tender hearts
Who sit in upper rooms
And still the strain plays out its tune
From sadness of the tomb

A strain upon a sepulchre
A white robed body lay
The saviour rises, then appears
The rock is rolled away

A strain it sweeps his Mother’s heart
With gladness, faith and joy
And plays its tune eternally
For all who will enjoy

The strain is never ending
Through time and space it plays
The bloodied fingers of our saints
Keep it playing today.

poems

My #poem of today #catholic

This is one of my quickest poems, I wrote it in under 10 minutes this morning!

A strain upon a lyre harp
sweeps a sound so low
That only those who gather round
Can catch its sweetness flow,

A strain which speaks of suffering
A woman’s heart is torn
As she watches martyrdom
For her son she mourns

A strain of sadness at the tomb
She searches for her dead
An angel pointing to the skies
Which dawns a crimson red

A strain upon twelve tender hearts
Who sit in upper rooms
And still the strain plays out its tune
From sadness of the tomb

A strain upon a sepelchre
A white robed body lay
The saviour rises, then appears
The rock is rolled away

A strain it sweeps his Mother’s heart
With gladness, faith and joy
And plays its tune eternally
For all who will enjoy

The strain is never ending
Through time and space it plays
The bloodied fingers of our saints
Keep it playing today.

poems

#Poem for Paulmiki and companions #catholic #feastday

A martyr’s blood a garden tends,
the time is always spring
their blood it feeds the frosted soil
and melts the hearts within

a martyr’s blood does tend the soil
and lives eternally
to raise the young like nestlings
who shelter in its trees

a martyr’s blood does feed the birds
and all who call their names
to implore Gods saving grace
and all our Faith proclaims

a martyr’s blood it flows in streams
in gardens, mountains, climes
proclaiming death is not the end
a bell of life it chimes

a martyr’s blood within the vale
through thorny briars flows
and deep beneath all suffering
lies a Godly rose

Joseph mc  6 Feb 2018

poems

#saint agatha #feastday today, #poem

Chaste of Virgins deep in sorrow
How we grieve the pain you felt
But with suffering comes the promise
strength and force they will be sent

From the one who knows us better
never tempted more to bear
from above there comes his angels
to banish us from all despair

Chaste of Virgins, woman blessed
implore for us His graces still
to live a life that´s ever pleasing
always to do his Holy will