Poems for All Occasions (4 page)

It was as if this world of ours stood still, stunned, silent, shocked,

We watched in dismay, as two passenger jets destroyed the beacon

Of American capitalism in the World Trade Center and then

The heart of U.S. military strength, the great Pentagon,

Dumbfounded, we watched in horror as the twin towers]

Tumbled aimlessly like toddlers’ Lego bricks,

Sending rubble crashing in fragments to the ground below.

Human bodies tossing from the windows into a giant tomb of dust.

Gushes of smoke darkened the air, turning the blue sky to dark.

Day turned into night, joy to sorrow, life to death.

Tears fell as we witnessed men and women jumping from the

Towering inferno to certain death, jump rather than die in

Searing heat and black choking smoke, too horrendous to imagine.

Our own kith and kin, Irish Americans, firemen, police, medics

On the threshold of death, yet daring to save others in need.

All heroes, but one shone out in my estimation as the greatest;

Fr. Mychal Judge, born in Brooklyn of Irish parents, chaplain

To the fire service, esteemed, loved, good humoured,

Loyal to the end, anointed his colleagues and then was smothered

in death Giving his life to save others, falling into the arms of his Heavenly

Father, who said; “Well done faithful servant, come to my right hand”

(To day, to the young in our midst, it was horrendous, ,I realized this, when my four year old granddaughter, Sinead, said to her Mum“Mum could this happen in Wicklow and would my sister and I die?”God’s words are as relevant to day as many years ago, we should all heed; “Revenge is mine,” said the Lord, nobody has the right to kill. )

(Moore Street is a street of stalls,

and lovely friendly old Dublin Ladies.)

A street of bustle and welcome,

Mingling with ecstatic excitement,

Spilling bubbles of jovial wit,

Casual remarks from Dubliners,

Mostly female, chubby, friendly,

Rainbow like in their multicoloured

aprons,

Sleeves above elbows.

Apples, oranges, veg. passed over

makeshift stalls, graced with

a grateful touch of charm.

Weighing, counting, wrapping

All done by women up since dawn,

Their musical dialect echoing

In that street for decades,

City nursery of Behan, Joyce, O’Casey,

Whose flowing genius still drifts

along like ripples

In the maiden river Anna Liffey.

The drama of Moore Street

Makes Dublin a city, superior, witty,

Home of song and ditty,

Moore Street its very core.

(In Wicklow, aged 20, just finished training,as a teacher,

but unable to go to a dance, on account

of swolllen glands. 16-- -9---1953.

Ah me, dear Lord,

Why do you tease me so,

Your tricks, though small

Have secret messages strange.

O‘er life‘s fleeting joys,

You cast a dusky cloak

Which o‘er shadow

worldly pastimes fair.

2.

In each new day,

You sprinkle joys like rain,

Which pour in golden showers,

Though dim they be,

Man‘s soul, it shines,

His heart is light and gay,

Then, those joys, like bubbles,

fade and humans weep.

3.

Dear Lord, your telegrams

are mysteries deep,

We know not why a shadow comes

When all seems bright

And then beside a cross

so dark and drear

You send a consolation

of heavenly light.

4.

Such is the cry of a poor

sick creature frail,

Who longs to fly about

and sing with glee.

But the Lord knows best,

The most secret tale

Is known to Him,

He knows, why we must weep.

It came from a stream in the mountain,

Flowed down over heather and dew,

To a clean pebbled well, a clear fountain

Water fresh healthy and pure.

Taken one day in a barrel

By a Sacristan old without fault

Poured into a font in the chapel

He added a wee bag of salt.

The priest blessed the water one morning,

He prayed with fervour and love,

Expelling all bad evil spirits

Begging help from his God up above.

The water was now blessed and holy,

Medicine for body and soul

Small babies baptised in their innocence,

Got graces and blessings untold.

Mid thunder and lightning and tempests

The water was sprinkled with care

Preserved all people from danger

Gave them courage, piety and dare.

Holy water just sprinkled around them

Sent devils scampering in fear,

No more could they enter the household

Or torture God’s children down here.

The graves of our folks who have left us

Were blessed with this water so clear,

Their bodies and coffins were sprinkled

On their way to Heaven’s bright sphere.

I appeal to the Mothers of Ireland

Those women, the household’s backbone,

Place a font of water so holy

Inside every room in your home.

Then worry and pain will desert you

Young and old will once again pray

Angels will guard and defend you

Peace will reign in your home every day.

If we trust in God and pray to our Lady and our

Guardian Angels, and using Holy Water,

all infirmities can be healed, and peace and

love will reign in our homes now and forever.

The above poem is one of many in my book “Angels over Ireland”

A little child once gazed and said;

When pointing to the baby Lord,

“You said he’s God, Mum, but he’s so small,

Sure I’m much bigger and much more tall.

You said, Mum, ‘twas He brought me to you,

But how could He know, was He so clever,

Or then again Who brought Himself,

Because you said He was there forever.

And Mum why is His Mum looking so sad,

There’s tears in her eyes, I can see them,

Is it because she thinks I’m bad,

And not sharing my sweets and biscuits.

Dear Son that Babe is God for sure,

He is our king, our Lord and Saviour,

He created you and me and Dad

In Heaven for us He’s waiting.

Of course ’twas He gave you to me,

He himself was there forever,

I can’t explain that to you now,

We’ll understand all that in Heaven.

His Mum was sad because her son

Came to save all earthly people,

Ungrateful folks mocked her Child

Hurt and scourged Him cruel and vicious.

But you can make her smile again,

By saying you love her baby,

And by helping others who are in need,

She is Queen and oh’ so caring.

God’s hand can everywhere be found,

In places miles away ,Son,

His presence can be felt around,

We must believe and trust Him.

You’ll find Him in the desert dry,

Or in the skies above you,

You’ll hear Him when you call at night,

Cause His angels are watching o’er you.

When you gaze upon a bird on flight,

Or a rose, or lily blooming,

You’ll know ‘twas God create all things

Robbers, thieves, intruders.

For good and bad He died to save,

He is a Mate, so loyal, forgiving,

Son, all He asks of you and me,

Is refrain from evil sinning.

Gaze out and look through your kitchen window,

See fleecy clouds, some dark, some grey,

Then suddenly the sun shines through them,

Transforming all into a lovely day.

You may sit and brood o’er many problems,

Nourishing dark and dreary thoughts,

Which always thrive on wasted moments

Ignoring all good things God has wrought,.

God gave you eyes to see the sunrise,

And ears to hear the gentle birds,

As they sing and serenade you daily,

Chirping melodies of joy and love.

Feet to walk through lovely valleys,

Go gaze on cows and lambs and sheep,

Just listen to their lowing and bleating,

Your world and mine we got for free,

God gave us hands to create new objects,

Bringing joy to young and old,

Hearts to keep our bodies ticking,

And love more precious than the rarest gold.

Never covet things you long for,

It’s a waste of energy and good time,

The clever one accepts all God’s gifts,

For higher things the wise man strives,

Blest are those who treasure friendship,

Helping others, showing love and care,

Trusting God and his Blessed Mother,

Angels teach us fervent prayer.

I watched a wrestling butterfly

In a stagnant water hole.

He strove and tossed and twisted

With efforts brave and bold.

Life to him was precious,

He craved to fly once more,

To suck the nectar from each flower,

From tulip, poppy, rose.

I seized a fallen bramble,

Then pushing it with care,

On it, placed the butterfly

Beneath the sun‘s soft rays.

A gentle breeze passed o‘er it,

Which dried its dazzling wings.

Into the air, it flew in haste,

The happiest flying thing.

Each one, though small unnoticed,

Was made to give us joy,

By a God, Who really loves us,

Symbol of Heaven‘s eye.

So, like our Angel Guardians,

Who guard us night and day,

They too obey their Maker

In their own sweet God like way.

Cast a glance in street or garden,

See man or beast or fly,

Who needs an instant helping hand

Go forth, all odds defy.

For you may be a Saviour,

Though human is your stand,

You may be nervous and afraid,

But your Angel‘s near at hand.

Never lose heart, if you once have failed,

Thrice St. Peter denied his Lord,

But rose to become His favourite saint,

The Rock of His church was his reward.

Rid depression, by closing your eyes,

Take once again your Angel’s hand,

Silent prayer is the ladder to God,

Float far from the troubles of sea and land.

Make amends for mistakes, long ago,

See the brightness of the dawn,

Forget the dark and midnight blues,

Life is like a fleeing fawn.

Look all trouble in the face,

Never sit alone to cry,

Many the outstretched hand out there,

Awaiting to help you stand and climb.

Do, today, what you feel is right,

Never put off the morrow’s chores,

Look at life with an outlook bright,

Leave all problems at Heaven’s door.

Enjoy the moment as it is,

Be thankful for each gift and grace,

This world of ours is the testing ground,

Preparing us to see God’s face.

A smile can make the hardest heart,

Stop and gaze and wonder why

The lonely soul feeling sad and lost

A smile says “Friend have another try”.

The exile son far away from home,

Walking alone, mile after mile,

Gets a warm feeling and rays of hope

From a passing glimpse of a stranger’s smile.

The ache and pain of a sickly child,

Lying in a bed damp with sweat,

He trusts his mother’s lovely smile

No fear he has or thought of death.

Suicide in a young man’s mind,

He pauses slowly as he climbs the clif,

For walking towards him with a beaming smile

A lovely girl, his childhood friend.

They chat and talk about bygone days,

He realised his troubles were but few,

Her smiles were like sunshine rays

New hope and love in his sad heart grew.

We all have smiles stored in plenty,

Stopping ugly wrinkles grow

Free likewise to poor and gentry

One day, their worth, we’ll surely know.

Look into the eyes of a child and see,

Pure innocence, love, sincerity,

Beauty of God, mirrored so bright,

Filling the world with eternal light.

Take the hand, small though it be

Feel warmth right there, soft as fleece,

Shedding its love to you unaware,

Profusely over life’s thoroughfare.

Rest its head o’er your throbbing heart

Feel the peace which sets you apart

From the hustle and bustle of a world gone mad

Making you happy, no need to feel sad.

The presence of God, you feel when a child

Graces your home, a gift of delight,

The angels around him, they sure recognise

God’s token to mankind, a baby’s soft smile.

This bundle of love was once a wee seed

Planted, it blossomed, nine months was its peak,

Transformed so quickly, grew two hands and two feet

A brain and a heart-beat and minute baby teeth.

One day this child may be doctor or king,

Prominent leader, entertainer to sing

,A hero renowned, great joy it could bring

In lands far away in winter or Spring.

Sometimes baby seed may be ditched ere the dawn

Or torn apart like a brown hunted fawn,

Manually crushed, or removed with great pain,

Sent back to its God without title or name.

Mothers expecting, your babies to day,