CARRYING MY CROSS /  by Joe Castorino

Carrying my cross,

I take lumbering steps

up the steep mountain;

I grumble with every step,

like Job, wondering why

the Lord is asking me

to shuffle along, dragging

this heavy wood with me

wherever I go.


But then I come to

a dangerously deep

crevasse that threatens

to end my journey,

and even with a

giant Herculean leap,

I know that I would fall

down, down, down,

into the black throat

of the abyss below.


Suddenly, a white Dove

darts right past me,

causing me to jump back

from the edge of the cliff;

as I do so, the cross falls

forward so that its top

now rests on the other side,

forming a wooden bridge.


After I carefully crawl

to the other side,

I look back at the cross,

wondering if I should

kick it down over

the edge of the cliff,

but, instead, I choose

to slowly pick it up,

embrace it, and

faithfully follow

in the footsteps of Jesus.

CHRISTMAS DAY /  by Joe Castorino

Christmas Day

Baby Jesus is born,

And through Our Savior

We can be born again daily;

Day by day each of us awakens,

Day by day the evil one tempts us,

Day by day Divine Mercy is victorious,

As we surrender to the God of Mercy,

As we trust the God of Goodness,

As we embrace the God of Love;

Thus, we are born again daily

If we choose life with Him,

So every day can be like

Christmas Day.

THANKSGIVING /  by Joe Castorino

When we’re thanks-living,

We choose for living,

We choose for giving,

Lovingly for-giving.


Thanksgiving,

What a wonderful

Gift from God,

It seems to me like

An inexhaustible 

Spiritual ocean of the

Dazzling, magnificent

Divine Mercy.


When we’re living,

In thanksgiving to God,

We’re living for giving,

Lovingly for-giving.

THE VINE /  by Joe Castorino

You are The Vine,

and I am a little branch.

When I am proud,

I stubbornly cut myself

off from you, Lord,

and I remain in self-love,

and without your grace

my branch dries out

and my fruit shrivels up,

as my soul slowly dies.


But when I am humble,

I remain in your love,

and your delicious grace

surges through me and

thus my fruit sweetens,

as I am born again.

I am just a little branch,

but you are The Vine.

TRIFLES /  by Joe Castorino

Inspired by the writing of St. Francis de Sales

Why are trifles

So important to us?

What’s really all 

The big fuss?


They can often

Infatuate our hearts,

Slowly infecting us,

Like poison darts.


Our desire subtly

Grows and grows,

As we are gradually

Mastered by our foes.


Trifles can turn into treasures,

And treasures into troubles.

FIRST HOLY COMMUNION /  by Joe Castorino

It was a memorable day for me,

The greatest of my young life;

I still remember the class photo,

Me and another boy were the only

Ones dressed in suits of white,

And I loved wearing white

For the first time in my life.


Then inside the old church,

I recall wondering to myself

What Jesus would taste like;

When the time came to go forward,

I stood in line, and when our turn came,

We kneeled at the communion rail,

Waiting for the good God to come.


There He was, my Lord and my God,

And He was dressed in white too;

I meekly opened my small mouth

To welcome the King of Kings,

And then Baby Jesus was gently

Placed by His Holy Mother

On the manger of my tongue.

THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT /  by Joe Castorino

Our fruit is very sweet,

And He is very happy,

When we remain attached

To the one true Vine.


Joy warms us with light,

Peace conquers fear,

Patience stops time,

Kindness multiplies smiles.


Generosity feeds the world,

Faithfulness makes us a Church,

Gentleness purifies the heart,

Self-control shuts out darkness.


But Love, yes Love, wondrously

Binds them all together into

Majestic harmony as our souls

Drink of the Lord’s Divine Mercy.

LOVE FOR LOVE /  by Joe Castorino

Dedicated to my Faithful Mother

You used to provide

For all my needs,

Planting in my soul

God’s holy seeds.


Now older, you need

God’s help from above,

Like you, I now sacrifice

And surrender in love.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL /  by Joe Castorino

Guardian Angel, please pray for me,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your petitions rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

When the evil one tries to pour words of

Corrosive poison into our innocent ears,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that banished are all our fears;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That crushes the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

And our life in the Spirit does grow.

TO ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL /  by Joe Castorino

You are the great warrior angel,

Ready for the spiritual battle,

Always sober, vigilant, and alert,

You wait and watch for the enemy;

Then in the midst of black terror,

You slay the red dragon of fear,

And brandish the sword of the Spirit,

The glorious golden sword of Love;

Teach us to become brave soldiers,

Soldiers of Jesus Christ the Lord,

Nourished by the holy Bread of Life,

Refreshed by His sweet new wine.

TO POPE BENEDICT XVI /  by Joe Castorino

As you bashfully smile,

you extend both arms

and wiggle your fingers:

your welcoming wave

is a gentle greeting to

the pilgrims at St. Peter’s.

A prudent theologian,

you write the most

eloquent of encyclicals;

as a classical pianist,

you wisely speak about

true beauty and true art.

In your own quiet way

you shepherd the flock,

for you’re a very holy man;

you’re an obedient son,

a simple man of Love,

a humble genius.

OUR LADY'S LASSO /  by Joe Castorino

I start the day with you,

Close by my side,

My hand caressing 

The pearl-white rosary

Like your soft gentle fingers,

But too soon I walk away

And foolishly forget you,

So you throw the beads of

Your holy lasso around me,

Lovingly, and oh so gently

Draw me back to your side,

To live the holy mysteries

Together, in awe and wonder.

VIA CRUCIS /  by Joe Castorino

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

like Veronica with her veil,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn;

the Polish pope’s

old, wrinkled face

winces with pain,

like a warrior’s,

as he most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

TO ST. JOHN PAUL II /  by Joe Castorino

You have a playful, loving smile

  that was delightfully disarming,

You have pleasant, penetrating eyes

  that looked deep into our souls,

As a humble seminarian you silently

  evaded the nefarious Nazis,

Years later, your heroic words crushed

  the cold-hearted Communists;

Your valiant, victorious voice was

  carried on the wondrous wings

Of the cheerful cherubim who raced

  round the globe and rained down

On the world your heavenly hope

  and wonderful words of wisdom.

 

You are a saint for our century:

  poignant poet, daring dramatist,

Protector of the powerless,

  merciful mystic, pro-life pope,

And stalwart spearhead who ignited

  the fire of the New Evangelization;

Your hideous opponent the devil,

  like a sly, sneaky soccer player,

Tantalizingly tried to kick abortion

  through Holy Church’s doors, but

As the goalie of the Chair of St. Peter,

  you flicked away temptation,

With your rock-solid shepherd’s staff

  gripped in your warrior-like hands.

 

In Poland, you relentlessly pursued

  Christ’s love even though

You had to trudge terribly through

  the dreadful, dreary dark night

Of Nazi dictatorship, and you had

  to bear the wicked weight of the

Cruel, crafty Communists in your

  beloved, historic city of Krakow;

Through your remarkable writings

  you lifted us ever so high in the air

In a Heaven-bound spiral, far far above

  the murky mist of moral relativism

And into the sublime, sunny splendor

  Of Christ’s truth and freedom.

LIFE IS WORTH LIVING /  by Joe Castorino

A Tribute to Venerable Fulton J. Sheen

In stature the bishop was rather short,

But spoke with power like a judge in court;

Sometimes his sharp eyes were piercing swords,

Other times his smile was warm, like the Lord’s;

His divine sense of humor won us all,

Yes, “Uncle Fultie” always had a ball;

His Shakespearean drama shook the soul,

Yet leading us to Heaven was his goal.

TO SAN PADRE PIO /  by Joe Castorino

When we, your stubborn spiritual children,

Don’t listen to you in holy confession,

You slap the Spirit into our sleepy souls,

As you make prayerful intercession.

When we plan to drop the blitzkrieg bombs

Of mortal sin into our desperate heart,

You bilocate and bravely speak the truth,

And the holy fear of God to us impart.

When the evil one stealthily attacks us,

Aggressively seeking victims to devour,

As a warrior, you heroically hunt him down,

And lasso the beast with Rosary power.

PRAYING HEAVENLY CHESS /  by Joe Castorino

Spiraling through Little Pearls of Prayer



Guided by the Spirit,

I strategically move

The little chess pieces

Across the chessboard

Of my daily prayer life.


I awaken to Our Lady’s advice,

I surrender to sweet Divine Mercy,

I spiral slowly through the Rosary,

I feast on spiritual communion,

I whirl through the holy Word,

I praise God through poetry,

I magnify Him in holy mass,

I delight in delicious devotion,

I confide totally in the Christ,

I listen intently to the Light,

I wonder at the wisdom of the saints,

I honor the Hour of Mercy,

I meditate on the Holy Family,

I examine my conscience in humility,

I sleep in my guardian angel’s arms.


The evil one has no moves left,

He fearfully wrings his hands and

Grinds his teeth in eternal despair --

Jesus is the King of the Universe,

He is the Unconquerable One:

Checkmate.

THE MYSTICAL MONASTERY IN THE DESERT /  by Joe Castorino

Dedicated to my Delightful Daughter

The long, arduous journey

  was finally over,

More challenging than going

  from London to Dover;

Clarissa Candela opened

  her deep, dark eyes,

She got out of bed not

  expecting any surprise;

For the last 33 days it’s been

  a time for new prayers,

Almost like climbing a beautiful

  resort’s elegant stairs;

Going upward towards God

  in an imperceptible way,

She didn’t notice any spiritual growth

  when she knelt down to pray.

 

As the beacon of dawn

  gradually conquered the night,

The sinful, fearful darkness

  was very quickly put to flight;

The angels unfurled the banner

  of God’s light across the sky,

As on the freeway Clarissa

  calmly drove in the desert so dry;

Her pilgrimage was to the beauteous

  chapel of Our Lady of Solitude,

And since she could see the cupola,

  her arrival was a certitude;

With holy sunbeams striking a

  stained glass window from afar,

The chapel looked like a lighthouse

  reflecting Bethlehem’s star.

 

Clarissa got out of her car, and a

  sweet smile danced across her lips,

Her long, dark hair through the comforting

  breeze ever so gently whips;

Looking at the chapel, she saw arches

  and columns in a style European,

The dappled desert stone, rustically

  elegant, made it look Galilean;

The cupola, topped with a simple cross,

  was Our Lady’s jeweled crown,

And the t-shaped tau on the gable

  declared good St. Francis’ renown;

Clarissa looked up, twirled around,

  and saw an immense sky so blue,

She had never seen such beauty clothed

  in such peace, ‘tis so very true.

 

Then she entered the chapel

  experiencing a spiritual thirst,

Truly there were not many people

  at mass on this January First;

Their few voices were humbly and

  quietly raised almost inaudibly aloft,

And the Franciscan priest said mass

  in a voice that was very, very soft;

The devout Poor Clare nuns were

  all engaged in the deepest prayer,

And, honestly, the mass was so silent

  that it was exceedingly rare;

When Clarissa’s 33-day prayers of

  consecration were finally done,

Might she be in danger of ending

  as uneventfully as she had begun?

 

But St. Louis de Montfort’s

  Consecration to Jesus through Mary,

Was recommended by her wise old

  Irish pastor Monsignor O’Clary;

He had preached quite a fine homily

  about this special devotion,

Saying, “It can really change your life,

  if you have the notion”;

But now let me share with you

  one rather noteworthy fact,

St. Louis’ closing prayer is

  really a form of holy contract;

She knelt before Our Lord’s

  beautiful crucifix near the altar,

And she dearly hoped that her

  heart would not ever falter.

 

Midway through this closing prayer,

  Clarissa’s heart was passionately,

Preciously pierced by the sweet sword

  of the Spirit; her soul, suddenly

Brimming with God’s majestic mercy,

  soared in a spiraling celestial

Crescendo of God’s love for her;

  fearing that her heart, like a fiery

Supernova, might explode with emotion,

  she silently slipped out

And sat quietly, alone, on the sofa

  located in the pilgrims' parlor;

Here she serenely surrendered all

  to the Spirit, like a noble

Knight of Christ, Through Our Lady,

  The Queen of All Hearts.

 

Then like a giddy geyser she gushed

  torrents of light-hearted laughter

And happy, heavenly tears; this golden

  cascade of pure love poured

Over her soul like a warm, wonderful

  waterfall of holy honey; deep down

Inside, the Spirit was strumming on

  the harmonic harp of her heart, and

She was deliciously, delightfully deluged

  by this overwhelming ocean of God’s love for her.

 

Afterwards, Clarissa softly strolled

  back into the chapel to finish her

Closing prayer; approaching the altar,

  with awe, she beheld the crucifix

Where Christ the Courageous heroically

  hangs; from the back of the church

She felt his love as a light, blissful,

  balmy breeze; but as she

Drew closer to that crucifix, she felt

  His love magnificently magnified as it

Ignited into an intense, surging storm

  of explosive, electric joy;

Kneeling before that same crucifix,

  as a bold, brave warrior, she battled

Through her emotions until

   word by word, slowly,

Meaningfully, she finished

   her prayer of consecration.

 

Every year for the rest of her life

  this holy devotion she would pray,

She would always return to Our Lady

  of Solitude on the very same day;

Just as Our Lady had very few truly

  remarkable days in her saintly life,

Clarissa had few days in which intense

  joy pierced her soul like a knife;

Although she never again experienced

  a cascading heavenly waterfall,

Every so often a raindrop of pure,

  holy love her heart would enthrall;

In the twinkling of an eye the sword

  of the Spirit would pierce her soul,

As if to remind her that perfect love

  in Heaven must always be her goal.

TO ST. JOHN XXIII /  by Joe Castorino

Some were very surprised you were

Elected by the College of Cardinals,

Still others thought you were not

Dignified enough for the papacy,

Yet Our Heavenly Father chose you.

With your happy smile and mild speech,

Who would have ever thought that

You would have had the courage and

Strength to convene Vatican II,

Yet Jesus Christ knew you.


In your humility you were obedient,

And like the sweetest little lamb you

Trusted Our Good Shepherd

As He held you in His strong arms,

So the Holy Spirit used you.