Saint Philomena the princess of paradise (poem)

Here is my latest poem.

Saint Philomena the princess of paradise (poem)

Saint Philomena’s life
was a shinning light
that shone through the darkness
strong and bright.

The world’s false promises
we will not swallow
Saint Philomena’s example
we shall follow.

Saint Philomena Virgin Martyr,
from your throne of grace
cast a look of pity
upon the human race.

Saint Philomena the Wonder Worker
please hear us when we pray
and guide us through the challenges
that come to us today.

Please hear our prayers
and calm our fears
and guide us through
this vale of tears.

Hear us when we cry out to you
in our time of need
and your heavenly assistance
to us please do concede.

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The False Ecumenical Movement (poem)

Let’s ditch the differences
And play a game.
Let’s pretend the churches,
Are all the same!
We don’t let facts,
And truth, slow us down,
We bury them safely,
In the ground!
The facts we choose,
To ignore,
As ways of unity,
We explore!

The breaking of the drought (poem)

It hadn’t rained for quiet a while
the ground was baked and dry.
Our prayers went up to heaven
and the clouds began to cry.
New life sprouted everywhere
The fields were lush and green,
With streams and rivers filling up
It all seemed like a dream.

How to Starve off Senility (poem)

To starve off senility
I suggest you write a poem.
It will help to avoid
the early twilight zone.
Try reading books upside-down
Do the crosswords everyday.
These little exercises keep
grey matter from decay.
Update
A clever man over at Catholic Forum has written two  more verses for the poem.

Pope John Paul II (poem)

In 1978 John Paul,
To the papacy was raised,
By his charm and by his talents,
We were dazzled and amazed.
There didn’t seem much,
That he couldn’t do.
Here are his talents,
To name just a few,
Hiking, acting, skiing,
Writing poems,
And the occasional book.
John Paul certainly made
people,
Take notice and look.
Languages,
He learnt with ease,
It seemed for him,
It was a breeze.
He knew that to God,
All credit was due,
Unlike proud men,
Who haven’t a clue!
In Saint Peter’s Square,
On a sunny day,
A bullet rung out,
And came his way.
John Paul was in
A serious state,
The world was stunned,
By this act of hate.
By Our Lady of Fatima,
John Paul was protected,
Away from his organs,
The bullet deflected.
For many weeks,
We anxiously watched and prayed,
Hoping God’s power,
Would soon be displayed.
A suspect was arrested,
And refused bail,
He was tried and convicted,
And then sent to jail.
When John Paul was recovered,
And again was feeling well,
He visited the hit man,
In a Rome prison cell.
He showed us how,
Our enemies to forgive,
He showed us how,
God wants us to live.
This message is sorely,
In this world needed,
Where the Gospel of Christ,
Is often unheeded.
Under Lech Walesa,
And with support from the pope,
The Polish people formed trade unions,
With courage and with hope.
The communist empire,
Crumbled down,
When John Paul
Stood again, upon Polish ground.
In country after country,
The Communists lost power,
Freedom in Eastern Europe,
Then again began to flower.
History never saw,
A more travelled pope,
All over the world,
He brought faith and hope.
On John Paul,
Parkinson’s disease waged a war,
The once athletic pope,
Was vigorous no more.
On April 2, 2005,
To Pope John Paul,
We said goodbye.
His soul to God,
Would now fly.
From mourners at his funeral,
Came a spontaneous call,
To immediately proclaim him,
As “Saint John Paul”.
In answer to prayer,
Favours, John Paul, started to shower,
Demonstrating his great,
Intercessory power!
Fatima 004

If I get to heaven (poem)

If I get to heaven
I’ll drop you a line,
Just to let you know,
That I am doing fine.
If wings and a halo
are dispensed to me,
An eternally happy person
Forever, I shall be!
by Mary Ann Matulis
IMG_0928

Poems on autism by Thomas G. Andry

What is it like to have a Child?
What is it like to have a child?
Who has needs severe or mild
Preconceived dreams, hopes and plans
Have slipped through my fingers like grains of sand
What is it like, rare as it may be
To sometimes see someone looking just like me
Brief glimpses of a smiling face
But from a far, far, far away place
What is it like as days pass to years?
There are plenty moments that dry your tears
An appropriate comment from out of nowhere
Tells me that there’s a real person in there
What is it like to look thru my eyes?
Concerns about the future, not times gone by
What’s to be when I’m no longer here?
Who will protect him from the fears?
Of people who do not lend a hand
Or from things he just can’t understand
From places that he should not go
From things that he really should know
From dogs or cats or things that are wrong
From an institution where he doesn’t belong
Why do I doubt and have a care
When I know that God’s hand has always been there
He has selected me for this mission in life
To watch and guard this child living the strife
What is it like to have a child?
Who has needs severe or mild
How blessed I am and how really great
To see God’s “special work” and celebrate.
by Thomas G. Andry
He Danced!
The day was soon to come
The wedding of an elder son
An autistic child doesn’t travel well
And in my son’s case it’s a living hell
He tarnished my thought of wedding music
When I told him he was to be included
A dance of wills began as he tried to undo
The uncertainty that I was leading him to
“It makes my stomach hurt and I’m afraid.”
Are some of the things he repeatedly said.
On my knees was the only place to go
But he could not replace his thoughts of woe
He continued to complain, anguish and cry
“I’m not going, if I have to fly”
And every other reason came to his lips
As he hoped he would make me give up this trip
This dance continued without a pause
As he tried to understand the cause
But I was listening to a different song
For his safety, he had to come along
The day came and the music grew louder
Groom, bride, guests and flowers
Before I knew it, it was done
The groom and bride were finally one
Real music began and not just in my head
I realized my son had enjoyed where he was led
And not just the planes, clouds, mountains and farms
The next thing I knew, he had the bride in his arms
No longer to the music in my head
But this dance was to the prayers I had said
What’s so special about this dance?
For an autistic child it is a chance
In this place full of music, noise and chatter
Something happened that really mattered
He came out of his world of sameness and rote
And entered mine full of joy and hope
That smile on his face as the music was followed
In this room that has now become so hallowed.
What is so special about this dance?
Not just for a bride giving him a chance
But for my son,
He danced
He danced!
by  Thomas G. Andry
weddingdance