Catholic Poems to share

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Fable for a war by Thomas Merton

The old Roman sow
Bears a new litter now
To fatten for a while
On the same imperial swill.
The cannibal wolf will dig
And root out Spanish bones beside the pig.

Germany has reared
A rare ugly bird
To screech a sour song
In the German tongue:
Tell me if there be
A sparrowhawk for such birds as he?

The parrots lift their beaks
And fill the air with shrieks.
Ambassador is sent
From the parrots’ parliament:
“Oh see how fine I fly
And nibble crackers got in Germany.”

Europe is a feast
For every bloody beast:
Jackals will grow fat
On the bones after that.
But in the end of all
None but the crows can sing the funeral.

Germany has reared
A rare ugly bird,
But crows ate Roman pig
Before this bird was egg.
And in the end of all
Crows will come back and sing the funeral.
 
A Hymn: O God of Earth and Altar by G.K. Chesterton

O God of earth and altar,
Code: 
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Code: 
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
Code: 
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
Code: 
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
Code: 
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
Code: 
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Code: 
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Code: 
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
Code: 
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Code: 
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Code: 
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
Code: 
A single sword to thee.
https://www.chesterton.org/a-hymn-o-god-of-earth-and-altar/
 
Confessional by G.K. Chesterton

Now that I kneel at the throne, O Queen,
Pity and pardon me.
Much have I striven to sing the same,
Brother of beast and tree;
Yet when the stars catch me alone
Never a linnet sings–
And the blood of a man is a bitter voice
And cries for foolish things.

Not for me be the vaunt of woe;
Was not I from a boy
Vowed with the helmet and spear and spur
To the blood-red banner of joy?
A man may sing his psalms to a stone,
Pour his blood for a weed,
But the tears of a man are a sudden thing,
And come not of his creed.

Nay, but the earth is kind to me,
Though I cry for a star,
Leaves and grasses, feather and flower,
Cover the foolish scar,
Prophets and saints and seraphim
Lighten the load with song,
And the heart of a man is a heavy load
For a man to bear along.
 
Hymn to the Light by St Ephrem the Syrian .

The Light of the just and joy of the upright is Christ Jesus our Lord.
Begotten of the Father, He manifested himself to us.
He came to rescue us from darkness and to fill us with the radiance of His light.
Day is dawning upon us; the power of darkness is fading away.

From the true Light there arises for us the light which illumines our darkened eyes.
His glory shines upon the world and enlightens the very depths of the abyss.
Death is annihilated, night has vanished, and the gates of Sheol are broken.
Creatures lying in darkness from ancient times are clothed in light.
The dead arise from the dust and sing because they have a Savior.
He brings salvation and grants us life. He ascends to his Father on high.
He will return in glorious splendour and shed His light on those gazing upon Him.

Our King comes in majestic glory.

Let us light our lamps and go forth to meet Him.
Let us find our joy in Him, for He has found joy in us.
He will indeed rejoice us with His marvelous light.

Let us glorify the majesty of the Son and give thanks to the almighty Father
Who, in an outpouring of love, sent Him to us, to fill us with hope and salvation.
When He manifests Himself, the saints awaiting Him in weariness and sorrow,
will go forth to meet Him with lighted lamps.

The angels and guardians of heaven will rejoice
in the glory of the just and upright people of earth;
Together crowned with victory,
they will sing hymns and psalms.

Stand up then and be ready!
Give thanks to our King and Saviour,
Who will come in great glory to gladden us
with His marvelous light in His kingdom.
 
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I have always enjoyed Pam and her witty poems:

How God Made The Duck Billed Platypus​

Pam Ayres

The duck-billed platypus, small aquatic friend
Made from the pieces God had over at the end.
According to His reckoning (He’d not been wrong before)
He hadn’t made enough: He needed one mammal more.

He studied all the corners in His cupboard large and bare
A little foot here, and a little nose there,
A scrap of fur, a feather, nothing anyone would miss
And God said, “Oh Good God… Yes?.. What can I make out of this?”

There was a funny flat tail and a great enormous beak
Which had lain in the cupboard for a year and a week.
There were four webbed feet in the manner of a duck
And hanging on a peg, a furry overcoat for luck!

So the turn of the platypus came to be fitted
God sat him down and honestly admitted
That the finished platypus might appear a little odd,
‘But look on the bright side of it,’ said God.

‘You can swim in the river, you can paddle in the creek,
You can tackle anybody with a great big beak,
There’s a tail for a rudder or alternatively legs
And by way of consolation you’ve got babies and eggs.’

So God took all the pieces into Workshop One
And there he told the men the sort of thing he wanted done.
The Carpenter and Plumber stroked the platypus’s neck
And said, “Don’t you upset him, he cant run, but he can peck!”

So the platypus was made, and his beak was firmly rooted
And God found him a home where he would not be persecuted.
They packed him up and sent him with his tail neatly furled
In a brown paper parcel marked “Australia, The World.”

Not Catholic but funny for us aging people:

 
All Soul’s Day
by Siegfried Sassoon

XXVIII

Close-wrapped in living thought I stand
Where death and daybreak divide the land, —
Death and daybreak on either hand
For exit and for entry;
While shapes like wind-blown shadows pass,
Lost and lamenting, " Alas, alas,
This body is only shrivelling grass,
And the soul a starlit sentry
Who guards, and as he comes and goes,
Points now to daybreak’s burning rose,
And now toward worldhood’s charnel close
Leans with regretless warning" . . .
I hear them thus — O thus I hear
My doomed companions crowding near,
Until my faith, absolved from fear,
Sings out into the morning,
And tells them how we travel far,
From life to life, from star to star;
Exult, unknowing what we are;
And quell the obscene derision
Of demon-haunters in our heart
Who work for worms and have no part
In Thee, O ultimate power, who art
Our victory and our vision.
 
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