LONG-SKIRTS - order my latest edition of poetry!

Red July

2009-07-04T10:20:00.001-05:00

His Most Precious Blood
Springs up in July
In picnic-red checks
Reminding us why

We're all in His rhythm
He gives us all reasons
To incite and delight...
The beate of all seasons.

FOURTH OF JULY 2009

2009-07-03T06:28:00.002-05:00

FOURTH OF JULY

Happy Fourth!
Happy Fourth!
Always a Catholic
Firtht, of courth.

Happy Fourth,
And I say – eth
We’re no descent
Of Henry the eigh – eth!

Happy Fourth
U – S – A
Priests say Latin
Mass each day!

Happy Fourth!
“Latin what??!!”
A firecracker
Up Henry’s…

But – Happy Fourth,
Hank’s in his grave,
The One, True, Faith
Still frees the brave,

So Happy Fourth
Of God’s July,
In the U – S – A
A Catholic I’ll die!

God's Gardens

2009-07-01T21:36:00.002-05:00

THE OLD GARDENS

With my children
Planted seeds
To grow a garden
For our needs.

Dropped the kernels
In a row.
Each took turns
To dig and hoe.

Then we watched
And checked each day
Rotting moss
Helped soften clay.

Dewy sprouts
With mist drop
Warmed in beams
To make a crop.

Truth? In time
Is old grows new.
Ancient earth
Brings that in view.

Unkempt gardens
Browned untame
Green still bursts
From what looks lame.

Relic rain
Senile sun
Cultivate
'Till growing's done.

Crumbling dirt
What's its worth?
Forests, flowers,
Fare of earth!

Children laughing
Garden grown
Cabbage-greens
Yellows roan.

I speak, "Hush,
Say a prayer.
Learn the secrets
Gardens bear.

Ancient crumbling
Is short strife
In old old gardens
Grows gold gold life!"

Cigarettes

2009-07-01T08:13:00.001-05:00

TEMPTING
TOBACCO

Oh, God
Why did you make,
The tempting tobacco leaf?

Life is
Full of stress, and
Tension, all so brief.

It’s nice
To have a smoke,
With friends for a little relief.

Oh, God
Why did you make,
The tempting tobacco leaf?

SHREWSBURY, MISSOURI

2009-06-30T20:12:00.002-05:00

THE KITCHEN

Tucked in a corner of Shrewsbury
At St. Michael's Lane and Lansdowne
Every home had a mother and kitchen
Where good smells did abound.

When called in for our suppers
Our mothers knew where we'd been
They could detect the neighbors kitchens
Emanating from our skin.

We never, ever fooled them
As they were rolling up their sleeves
"So, you were playing with the Tabash kids."
Sniffing lamb wrapped in grape leaves.

Each family had a special scent
Behind their kitchen door
Where bodies, minds and souls were first
Not the latest home decor.

Zinnias

2009-06-30T17:58:00.001-05:00

THE
ZINNIAS

Zinnias grow
In dirty earth.
Crumbly, wormy,
Soil of worth.

Not only zinnias
Apple trees
And dirt dams up
Our open seas.

Earth's dirt
Keeps us firmly anchored
When even wars
Her surface cankered.

But joyful souls
Who trust stay meek
From earth's dirt see...
The zinnias peak!

Modern man...

2009-06-29T22:22:00.002-05:00

Once Upon
A
Time

The home that was
Is now a house
Empty with
A so-called spouse.

Filled with things
Americans dream
A sybaritic sterile
Theme.

Walls all white
No finger smudge
Of course good neighbors
Do not judge.

All are glad
Their seed they spray
Upon the dirt
In early May…

So by mid-June
All lawns are green
On street where child’s
Not heard or seen.

Henri Tincq

2009-06-29T08:30:00.002-05:00

H/T to Rorate Coeli

Monday, June 29, 2009

The Return of the “Fundamentalists”
Henri Tincq, specialist in religious issues who has just published "Catholicism: The return of the fundamentalists” analyzes the misunderstandings between the fundamentalists and Benedict XVI. The following is an interview with Monsieur Tincq which appears in the Sunday edition of Le Parisien :
Where do the fundamentalists come from?
The vast majority of the faithful are those nostalgic for the Church before 1965 and especially the Latin Mass. However, the leaders of the movement are priests and lay people who are much more arrogant and who often belong to the extreme right. Sociologically, they consist mainly of large families of aristocratic and bourgeois tradition who are very committed to the moral order and the Catholic tradition. But it is not exclusive - they also recruit from the mainstream.
Are we witnessing their great return?
We can not speak of a mass return, but the noise they make is inversely proportional to their numbers. There are 150,000 fundamentalists in the world including 25,000 to 35,000 in France. It is but a speck of dust in comparison to one billion Catholics! Yet this minority occupies more and more space in people's minds because we have a pope who encourages the return to a strong Catholic identity. As far as that goes, they have a growing influence at the Vatican. This is reflected in the liturgy, in particular the return to the Latin Mass.
Is this phenomenon related to Benedict XVI?
Yes, insofar as he is very traditional when it comes to dogma and liturgy. The fundamentalists consider him to be their pope. This leads to a double illusion. That of Benedict XVI, who believes that by continuing to make gestures towards them, they will return to the bosom of the Church and accept the reforms which have been under way for the past forty years. The illusion of the fundamentalists is the hope that this pope will put an end to the achievements of the Second Vatican Council. But the pope has shown in Jerusalem this past May, his commitment to dialogue with other religions, reviled by the fundamentalists.
(Note: Fundamentalist is the truest translation of the French term intégriste which is considered pejorative and which the French media regularly apply to traditional Catholics - Mornac)

FOOLISH
FRENCH

There once was a man from France
Who with the devil did dance

Of true Catholics he lied
“They’re terrorists” implied

Heads of France
Will receive Islam’s glance.

Our Lady

2009-06-28T09:33:00.002-05:00

GATE O'MORN

In early morning
Bird song,
I went out In the dew,

And spied a Lady
Standing,
She was dressed
All in blue.

Behind a white-washed
Fence,
Her hand upon
A latch,

The sun behind
Her rising,
Her warmth
He could not match.

The latch, she
Lifted gently,
Though rusted
And all worn,

Then opened fence,
With sun-rays dense...
Shined Mary,
Gate O'Morn!!

a True Catholic Priest

2009-06-27T13:05:00.001-05:00

THE
STAND

“Please stand for the Gospel.”
He had said.
Yet still they sat,
As if all dead.

But man in authority
Priestly dress’d,
Has excellent strength,
A giant’s, blessed.

And I? I trembled,
Turned quite pale,
By any other name…
I am still frail.

Then staunch, he repeated
Those words, O, wonder,
“Please stand for the Gospel.”
He struck like thunder.

And up they rose
Made better, moulded,
By a man of the cloth
Who never folded.

He spoke the truth,
So cruel in their mind,
But he stood for the Gospel
To save mankind!

Hatred of the Catholic Faith

2009-06-27T08:16:00.001-05:00

AMBIGUITY

One day animist
The next day Latin
One day Renew
Some use a paten.

Some let ministers
Eucharistic-chick
Hand out Our Lord
So you can have your pick.

Sometimes bongos
Assembly on their feet
Holding hands in the air
Kneelers obsolete.

One Holy Catholic
Apostolic Church?
Good for some let others run
In circles as they search.

For we ourselves have ours
Don't ever rock the boat --
Like those who open schools and classes
Teaching souls to float.

Saintly Thomas More
Could’ve had it all
Private Latin Masses
Behind a purpled wall.

But no chose the scaffold
Where truth and lie collide

Heads were cut --

Entrails gut -

Ambiguity couldn’t hide!

CATHOLIC

2009-06-25T19:51:00.002-05:00

http://tinyurl.com/qufl3

Thursday, June 25, 2009
IMPORTANT INTERVIEW"Similar to Opus Dei?"Schmidberger responds: "Somewhat."

THE
REAL
GOOD
NEWS

The Good News is…
In fear and joy
That apprentices are
Still altar boys.

And Tabernacles on
Sacrificial altar
Rebound the sounds
Of David’s Psalter.

The entire year
Our missals hold
Celebrating cerebrally
The new and the old.

Sarcophagus seasons
Of abstinence and fast
Absolves the flesh
Buries sins past.

And liturgy’s vernacular
Constantly feigned
Pales ‘fore Precambrian
Death’s Latin had reigned.

For truth nails eternal
In Catholicity
Through minutes of centuries’
Mediocrity.

I remember...

2009-06-25T15:11:00.001-05:00

MEMENTO ME

Rose petals pink.
But roses do wither.
Words stay alive.
Words do not dither.

Words for remembrance
Wherever one goes.
That’s why there’s rosemary,
Soon dies the rose.

Words sing of love.
Words can bring hate.
Words can forever
On your soul, stamp a date.

But I will admit,
One thing words can’t do…
Seduce with a scent
My memories of you.

Requiem aeternum

2009-06-24T22:27:00.001-05:00

THE
SHROUD

Drop, drop, drip.
The limbs lose their grip.
On golden possessions,
Their leaves.

Drip, drip, drop.
The loss they cannot stop.
The wood stiffens up
Like it grieves.

Now glitter and gold
Are pretty to hold,
As jewels on trinkets
And lockets.

But when the leaves fall,
It’s time to recall…
At death –
The shroud has no pockets.

woman thy name is EVE

2009-06-24T08:23:00.001-05:00

IN
EDEN’S
GARDEN

The banquet table
Was all set,
Nourishment
All free from debt.

They only had to
Wear some clothes,
That covered them
Since Adam’s woes.

Not the best,
Nor what’s called shoddy.
A sheath for soul
Which follows body.

But necks all stiff,
Backs, ram-rod straight,
They shrugged and said,
“Can’t make that date.”

And this from mothers,
Daughters, hapless,
Demanding Eves,
Who wear skins strapless.

No mea culpas,
Pleas for pardon…
But bob for apples
In Eden’s Garden!

Catholic Priest

2009-06-23T17:13:00.001-05:00

UPON THIS ROCK

Weary, weary,
On this earth,
Shielding souls
Beyond their worth.

Few are grateful,
Some regress,
Others, proud,
They won't confess,

When the waves
Break on the shore
Warning them
What is before.

Established
You, stand on this rock,
'Gainst the gales
'Fore those who mock,

Facing squalls
They cannot see,
But all behold
Your bended knee.

Few will follow,
Some deny,
Oblivious
They won't comply.

Then a blue moon,
Saffron sun,
Come together
As though they're one.

Fingers blessed
With Holy Oil,
You lift the Light…
Sun moon recoil.

Blinding many
Opening eyes
Contradiction
Most despise.

But on this rock,
Eroded-rife,
You stand your ground
Opposing strife.

Between the storms
And sheep you block
The tempest winds
That hurt the flock.

With outstretched arms
The daily crux,
You nail the Truth
So never in flux,

Never will lie,
Only can free,
Upon this rock,
Catholicity.

Gladiola

2009-06-23T06:34:00.001-05:00

THE
GLADIOLA

Sometimes
Red roses
Like to supposes…

Plush petals are
The best
From the garden –

But gladiola peach
To Heaven
Do reach…

Pale petitions…
Rose petals
Be pardoned.

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-21T10:19:00.001-05:00

ONCE
THERE
WAS
A
FATHER

Once, there was a father,
Who loved his little girl.
He held her hand and walked to Mass
So she could see the Pearl.

“My darling, there is silver,
My darling, there is gold,
But the greatest price is sacrifice,
The world keeps that untold.

The world can give you silver,
With gold, it can entice.
Diamond, topaz, rubies,
But none can match Pearl’s price.

Sacrifice, gave birth to you.
Sacrifice, it fed.
Sacrifice, it guided you.
Sacrifice, it bled.

For every drop of blood He shed,
Gave us the faith to trust.
And made us rich in sacrifice
To give you Bread not crust.

And for awhile, sometimes, we stray,
Believing not in Creeds.
But when things don’t sustain our souls
Then turn to Pearl that bleeds.”

Failing, father said he wished,
“For every time…a penny,”
He heard the daily words, so rich,
“…be shed for you and many.”

The little girl, she cried,
Raining on his bed a flood.
But father saw her sacrifice,
“Your tears are crystal blood.”

Once there was a father,
Who loved his little girl.
He held her hand for his last Mass
But left her with…the Pearl.

Mule

2009-06-20T10:01:00.001-05:00

THE
MULE

Purple, purple,
Purple, pink,
In evergreen
The candles sink.

Candle's age?
One thousand yeared,
With four, four-thousand
'Fore He appeared.

Each Sunday four,
In front of Yule
When she arrived
Upon a mule.

A revolution
Round the stall,
Till suddenly
On knees were all!

Like priest incensing
Hallowed altar,
To bear her Son,
All kneel, none falter.

Firm, determined,
Burdened-beast,
With veins of gold,
Great stubborn priest!

Praying for Priests

2009-06-19T16:47:00.002-05:00

I SAY A
LITTLE
PRAYER
FOR YOU

I said a little
Prayer for you,
Today, at morning
Matins.

At breakfast said
An Ave too,
While eating food
That fattens.

At Lauds I prayed
To give you strength,
And then I had
A snack.

I'd pray for you
At any length
While ordering a
Big-Mac!

The sun is high,
It's 12-noon time,
For you the
Angels' Psalter.

I pray at Prime,
Though it's lunch time,
That God won't
Let you falter.

Again at three,
It's time for Terce,
Some food I'll need
Till Sext.

My clothes are tight
Oh, what is worse?
To dwell on
Diet text.

So down my supper,
On to None,
Dry mouth from prayer,
I thirst.

I drink a lot,
The Vespers done,
My tummy's 'bout
To burst!

But still for you,
At Compline sat,
I prayed,
More food I ate.

This praying, Father,
Makes me fat...
Now you pray
I lose weight!!!

Year of the priest

2009-06-16T17:57:00.002-05:00

ELEVATION

BELLS

"The year of the priest!"

Screeched the beast

Down in depth's

Dank cells

Blest Mothers ignore

his devouring ROAR --

As they conceive

Future's Elevation bells!

Priest

2009-06-15T15:56:00.002-05:00

ROMANTIC SACRAMENT

Send me not roses
Carafes of wine.
Send me your words
Of love divine.

Send me not jewels
Encased in gold.
Send me your words
My heart will hold.

Send me not silver
In purple so plush.
Send me your words
Oh, make my face flush.

Send me not silks
Of shimmering dyes.
Send me your words
Bring tears to my eyes.

Send me not song
I sleep close to death.
But send me your words
For my very last breath.

Air Conditioning

2009-06-14T21:00:00.001-05:00

ODE
TO
AN
AIRCONDITIONER

What a joy to be cold,
When it is so hot,
Undeserving, sometimes my life’s sordid.

You give me a taste,
Of what I want not,
In hell, for eternity, boarded!

CONFESSION

2009-06-14T15:40:00.002-05:00

THE

CURE

Cut but can't bleed

Hit but don't bruise

Poisoned but won't die

Choice but can't choose

Hated but don't care

Mocked but won't hear

Mimicked but can't see

Cry but don't tear

Eat but can't taste

Touched but don't feel

Breathe but won't smell

Pray but can't kneel...

Blood

Bruised

Died

Chose

Cared

Heard

Saw

Rose

Tasted

Felt

Smelled

Knows

Examine

Confess

Absolved

Repose!

Year of the Catholic Priest

2009-06-14T07:50:00.001-05:00

HIS
BREVIARY
BATTERED

In the fifth,
Two thousand six,
Melts the wax
Of candle sticks.

May moon, full,
Begins to wane,
Shadows race
Across the plain

Reaching gulfs,
The ocean tides
Break on beach
Where pride presides.

Cassocked in,
The thickest fog,
Plodding cross
The marshy bog.

Maddening moons,
Through the fire ---
Near the depths
He wends on higher.

Many years,
Breviary tattered,
Deep in mists
His strength unshattered.

'Gainst black storms
Wet linen heavy,
Soul after soul...
Gives his life for each bevy.

And when he is called,
Because souls really mattered,
He will enter Reward...
With his breviary battered