Poetry Corner.

[RachelKH]

wow!  very nice!

[martin]

I found this lovely poem on St Josephs day.

Limbo (of the Fathers)
The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said:
"He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon."

A murmurous excitement stirred all souls.
they wondered if they dreamed-
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.

And Moses standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the three young children sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from perishing
In the fiery blaze?

A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses' words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed

Or apple trees
All blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.

And there He was!
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.

No canticle at all was sung.
None toned a psalm, or raising a greeting song,
A silent man alone
Of all that throng
Found tongue-
Not any other.
Close to His heart
When embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
"How is your Mother,
How is your Mother, Son?"

Sister Mary Ada, C.S.J.

[Shin]

I say it's absolutely moving Martin.

[Patricia]

When embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
"How is your Mother,
How is your Mother, Son?"


Very touching!  :'(

[Shin]

Mary Was Watching

Mary was watching tenderly
Her little Son;
Softly the mother sang to sleep
Her darling One.
Sleep, lovely Child, be now at rest,
Thou son of Light,
Sleep, pretty fledgling in thy nest,
All through the night!

Mary has spread your manger bed;
Sleep little Dove,
God's creatures all draw near to praise;
Crown of my love.
Sleep, little Pearl, Creator Lord,
Our homage take,
Bees bring you honey from their hoard,
When you awake.

- from the Czechoslovakian, a traditional carol

[James - a humble servant]

~ Let Joys Be Joined to Solemn Feasts ~


Let joys be joined to solemn feasts.
Let praises from the depths resound.
Let old things pass, make all things new.
Let heart and voice and works abound.

Recall that final evening meal when Christ did offer lamb and bread according to the ancient law from patriarchs inherited:

The feast of the Pascal lamb now over, the Body of the Lord was shared.
Thus every thing to all and each, from His own hands was then declared.

To the weak He apportioned flesh.
To the mournful He gave His Blood so dear.
He said: Accept this cup I give; all drink what you find here.

Thus this sacrifice He founded, an act He willed then to allow to priests alone, for whom is fit all others to nurture and endow.

The Bread of angels now is Bread of man.
Heavenly Bread fulfills what prophecies foreshow.
O wondrous thing ! God is consumed by the poor, the humble, and the low.

You, threefold God and one, we pray:
Be present as we worship well.
Lead us on your pathways to live in glory where you dwell.

Amen.

~ St. Thomas Aquinas

( Hymns from the Office of the Feast of Corpus Christi )

[Shin]

Amen!

Great one to read! Thanks James!

[Brigid]

Lovely, James!

[James - a humble servant]

Valley Heat;

to  much to bear;

summers here.


( like that ? - regarding haiku )

[James - a humble servant]

" The Word from Heaven Now Proceeding "

The Word from heaven now proceeding,
His Father's right hand never leaving,
Advancing to His proper work,
Approached His life's final evening.

By His disciple unto death
And to His enemies betrayed,
He first as life's true sustenance
Himself to His apostles gave.

To them beneath a twofold guise
He Flesh and Blood distributed;
Thus in corporeal substances
The entire man He justly fed.

Being born, He became our friend.
At supper, He became our food.
Dying, He was our ransom's price
And, reigning, is our eternal good.

[Shin]

Valley Heat;

to  much to bear;

summers here.

( like that ? - regarding haiku )

I have no clue! I like it!

Haha!

God's weather,
No choice to bear,
But happily.

[Shin]

" The Word from Heaven Now Proceeding "

The Word from heaven now proceeding,
His Father's right hand never leaving,
Advancing to His proper work,
Approached His life's final evening.

By His disciple unto death
And to His enemies betrayed,
He first as life's true sustenance
Himself to His apostles gave.

To them beneath a twofold guise
He Flesh and Blood distributed;
Thus in corporeal substances
The entire man He justly fed.

Being born, He became our friend.
At supper, He became our food.
Dying, He was our ransom's price
And, reigning, is our eternal good.

So reverent and moving..!

[martin]

" The Word from Heaven Now Proceeding "

The Word from heaven now proceeding,
His Father's right hand never leaving,
Advancing to His proper work,
Approached His life's final evening.

By His disciple unto death
And to His enemies betrayed,
He first as life's true sustenance
Himself to His apostles gave.

To them beneath a twofold guise
He Flesh and Blood distributed;
Thus in corporeal substances
The entire man He justly fed.

Being born, He became our friend.
At supper, He became our food.
Dying, He was our ransom's price
And, reigning, is our eternal good.

So reverent and moving..!

Yes very reverent and quite moving.
Did you write that yourself James?

[Speramus]

This poem posted by Martin 5 years ago is worth reading again this Holy Saturday.

Limbo (of the Fathers)

The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said:
"He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon."

A murmurous excitement stirred all souls.
they wondered if they dreamed-
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.

And Moses standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the three young children sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from perishing
In the fiery blaze?

A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses' words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed

Or apple trees
All blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.

And there He was!
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.

No canticle at all was sung.
None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song,
A silent man alone
Of all that throng
Found tongue-
Not any other.
Close to His heart
When embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
"How is your Mother,
How is your Mother, Son?"

Sister Mary Ada, C.S.J.

[Therese]

St. Joseph's words made me start to cry.  Have a very prayerful, solemn Holy Saturday, Speramus and everybody!