The tree stood quietly, surrounded by young and old,
All standing around anxiously surveying the gifts,
Making a mental note of which one they are going to snatch.
Boxes badly wrapped with crinkled mismatched paper,
Some small almost invisible boxes nestled snugly,
In the sparse branches of the popcorn decorated tree.
Enormous flashy impeccably wrapped gifts,
Perfectly square boxes with matching ribbons and bows,
Waiting to be quickly scarfed up by eager impatient hands.
Rejecting the mismatched paper and tiny boxes,
The bright paper and the perfect ribbons,
Soon lay in a mangled heap on the floor.
Monetary gifts given without any forethought,
Shiny baubles and sparkling trinkets,
The center of attention and the envy of many.
A brightly painted skateboard held in high esteem,
A train set with an engine that whistles and blows steam,
While boxes of half opened clothes lay discarded on the floor.
The crimson cloak of compassion,
The hand-me-down shirt of humility,
The flowered blouse of forgiveness.
Many don't realize these are not gifts, but opportunities,
A chance to share compassion, humility and forgiveness with others,
By those overwhelmed with buying and wrapping gifts.
Sometimes the gifts we choose are not the ones from God,
We have a perception of how we want our life to be.
Sometimes we miss the value in the gifts we are given.
Boxes with mismatched paper and wrinkled bows,
Hold treasures hidden to eyes sculpted by society,
Gifts so opulent they cannot comprehend their worth.
The gift of easy conversation to one who counsels the troubled,
A small box filled to overflowing with God's Love,
Given to all, but only used by those who can see its value.
The gifts that God gives us may not be the ones we want,
Sometimes we look with envy at another's gifts,
Wishing we could have what they have.
The greatest gift we can give this year,
Show each other how cherished their talents are,
And learn to love the gifts that God has given to us.
God has a plan for each and every one of us,
The key to success in this busy, hectic world,
Take time, as Mary did, to listen to God's messages.
He talks to us when we sit quietly in prayer,
Giving us little nudges that point us in the right direction,
All we need to do is to be open to hearing His voice.
Dear Lord,
Please help us to select the gifts that come from You
Give us the courage and the grace
To humbly acknowledge the gifts that others have
And to use our gifts to glorify Your name.
December 21, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
As we make our way this blessed holiday season,
Whether our path is filled with lists and commitments,
Or surrounded by the silence of loneliness and grief,
God is patiently waiting with His Peace and Love.
In a world filled with difficulties of all shapes and sizes,
Some struggle to solve them with money and power,
Others just give in to the darkness and despair,
Looking for answers to fill the emptiness and longing.
Each and every one of us is hungering for something,
For some it's being able to provide food for their families,
Others strive to obtain more money and it’s empty promises,
While others hunger for the spirituality that only God can give.
For some the answers are easy,
As clear as the sun that shines in the bright blue sky,
But for others, it is hidden in the swirling fog of difficult decisions,
Wandering about, bumping into carelessly made selfish choices.
Living an authentic life can sometimes seem like an unattainable goal,
Overwhelmed with messages masked with illusion and deception,
We reach for the teachings from scripture to guide us,
Turning to the Holy Spirit, the soul of our soul, we listen to His words.
Standing in the sunlight, as God's words brighten our spirits,
Our eyes are sometimes seduced by the shadows that dart and dance behind us,
Drawing our eyes away from God and His love for us,
We flirt with the fleeting influences of pleasure, possessions and power.
As we strive to grasp the earthly happiness we feel we deserve,
We sometimes unintentionally reject God's will for us,
In a society where instant gratification is the norm,
We demand that God immediately grant our every whim.
Forgetting the values of discipline and patience,
We flutter from one superficial activity to another,
Each one vowing to give us the happiness we seek,
However, we end up feeling depressed and disheartened.
The key to happiness is to find that hidden place in our soul,
That place where compassion, humility and forgiveness live,
That special place our souls go to connect with God,
That prayerful silence where our minds are silent and still.
So many of us hold back when it comes to prayer,
We feel inadequate and too unworthy to ask for God's blessings,
Or we feel that to live a truly, holy, authentic life,
We need to spend all our time on our knees in prayer.
The truth to living a faithful, authentic life,
The key that brings us true happiness and joy,
Is doing for others and sharing the gifts that HE gave us,
Shining the beacon of love that God planted in our hearts.
As we journey down our different paths this joyful time of year,
May we all find the happiness that God has waiting for us,
May we have the courage to share the blessed peace and joy,
With all that we meet during this glorious holiday season.
God of love, please help us all during this joyous celebration,
As we await the birth of our Lord and Savior,
May our hearts yearn only for the Love that You bring,
As we share your Peace and Love this Advent Season.
December 18, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Struggling in the brightness,
We walk with our white cane of self-absorption,
Determined to “make it on our own.”
As we glide along deploying our daily duties,
We find ourselves flying higher and higher,
Forgetting the gravity of our convictions.
Blinded by the glitter of the golden idol
We follow false idols focused only on pleasure,
Living a life absorbed with greed and gluttony.
Seeking solace in senseless pleasures,
In a world where violence and hatred reign,
Where children's games find pleasure in killing.
As the dizzying heights overwhelm our senses,
We stop momentarily to regain our composure,
Resting on top of a soft, plush cushion.
Unaware of the scorn searing in our hearts
We look down from our mile high pedestal,
On those we deem totally lazy and worthless.
We cloak our neighbors with our disdain,
Deeming them detestable in our eyes,
Rewarding the paparazzi who expose their secrets.
Uncaring of the heavy crosses they carry,
Blind to the burdens they bring with them,
Indifferent to their bloody wounds wrapped in shame.
High on our pedestal, we feel powerful and unblemished,
Whether we fly solo or are carried there by others,
We bask in the admiration of those below us.
We point at others to avoid becoming a target,
Hiding in humiliation from our own sins,
We hunt others like jackals going in for the kill.
Trapped by the wounds that bind us we pursue others,
Held captive by the nefarious nightmares that taunt us,
Terrified of being unmasked by the judgmental crowds.
With downcast eyes we stumble along,
To the gallows we know we deserve,
Hearing the jeers of the crowd we press on.
Standing hesitantly on our pedestals,
We feel a slight tremor below us,
Our soft, plush cushion begins to quiver.
All the embarrassing moments we fear,
The times we were overcome with weakness,
All our wounds wrapped so tightly with gauze.
The scrapes of impatient, angry words,
The slices of judgmental thoughts,
The deep gouges of jealous gossip.
The us we show the world is bright and clean,
A bright light to cover the slimy, darkness,
That lurks in the small corners of our soul.
The more we try to hide our wounds,
The more they fester and ooze,
Until the gauze can no longer hold them in.
Erupting with the fury of a volcano,
Hot molten pain flows from every crevice,
Spewing from the darkness into the light.
Mortified we watch our pedestal crash,
Watching all the flaws we found in others,
Explode from the gaping wound in our side.
Shocked, we watch our neighbors,
The ones we so quickly condemned,
Armed with bandages and gauze.
They wrap us with warmth and compassion,
Healing us with the love in their hearts,
Holding our hands, they pray for us.
Looking up into the face of Jesus,
As blood pours from the thorns in His crown,
Through His pain, we see Him smiling at us.
September 25, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
As the sunlight sparkled off her iridescent blond hair
She stood cheerfully on the front porch,
It was her second birthday,
A birth day that she shared with her Dad.
Standing there in her new pink dress,
A birthday present from her Dad,
She waved goodbye as he got into his car,
Unaware that he was not coming back.
Her dark haired brother stood next to her,
Wiser, than his mere three years of age,
Taking her hand, he led her to her new doll house,
And she lost herself in her imaginary happy family.
Her mother, abandoned by her husband,
Not comfortable living with her in-laws,
Soon left the little girl and her brother behind,
As she ran into the arms of another man.
The next few years, the birthdays were grand,
Siblings, born in July, they celebrated on a common day,
Their mother came with a delightfully fashioned theme cake,
And carefully wrapped presents with beautiful ribbons
When the little girl started going to elementary school,
Her strict grandmother discouraged visits from school mates,
Never able to attend any parties or sleepovers,
She learned about the arrows of loneliness at a very early age,
Then one celebration day in July,
A school mate, with gift in hand, knocked bravely on the door,
However, she was abruptly turned away,
And her childish gift was maliciously ridiculed.
Each year, the girl looked forward to the celebration day
Until the year that she turned nine,
The year her mother stopped coming to the party,
And she never knew why.
Her grandmother continued with the birthday tradition,
Always making sure she got her favorite orange cake,
And to make the celebration day complete,
There was always lots of presents tied up with pretty ribbons.
Then one year on her brother's actual birthday,
They drove to the hospital to visit their grandmother,
But she was acting odd, so they did not stay,
They were distressed to learn, after they left the room, she died.
Shortly afterward, her brother left for the army,
And the house that was once filled with three generations,
Now echoed with walls filled with quiet and solemnity,
Of the girl and her grandfather.
Her grandfather did his best at birthday time,
A quiet, solo celebration day,
Her grandfather got her store bought cakes,
And presents wrapped up with pretty ribbons.
Then as boyfriends starting coming into her life,
They would do their best to make her birthday special,
Making sure she had her special orange cake,
And lots of presents tied up with pretty ribbons.
Even though she and her father shared the same birth day,
He never acknowledged it was her day too,
She continued to send him a card and a present,
Until the year, he asked her to stop.
Some years the memoires are successfully held at bay,
But for many, they crash over the flood gates,
Storming her fragile psyche with a tsunami of loneliness,
As she longs to have someone to celebrate her day with.
Eating a store bought cake all alone in her room,
Her ears ringing with an isolation that screams with sorrow,
As cherry red Jell-O struggles though cocoon like arteries,
And oxygen depleted breath permeates lethargic lungs.
Desperate to hold onto a single thread of sanity,
With darkness circling its wagons filled with despair,
Her heart tries to flee from the agony,
That attacks with flaming arrows of poison.
Closing her eyes as tight as she can,
The birthday girl is playing with her new doll house,
Imagining that a loving family is all around her,
As she and her brother celebrate their special days.
Over the years, her experiences have brought her closer to God,
Each morning she prays to the most Blessed Virgin Mary,
Thanking her for her fiat that brought Jesus into our lives,
Praying to God that He allow Mary to be the mother she never had.
Some days God answers her prayers,
And His love heals her bloody, wounded heart,
Other days, the evils one's despair hides God's voice,
And her heart is shredded into pieces all over again.
Knowing that Jesus came to us as a servant,
Gives her hope that God will heal her pain,
And just as He healed the lame and the lepers,
Those who were blind and those who were mute.
And on days when even her prayers fail her,
She whispers, “Jesus, I Trust in You.”
Hoping that will be enough to keep evil away,
And that one day, she will hear God's voice again.
And as she stands again on the front porch,
A little girl waiting for her one true gift,
One that does not come in box wrapped with ribbon,
But in the Love that God's shares with us all.
The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve
and to give His life as a ransom for many.
- Matthew 20:28
Jesus, I Trust in You.
July 26, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
When our struggles become too much to bear,
We retreat from a world that is dark and cold,
Inconsolable, we find no solace in our prayer,
Living in solitary, with no one to hold.
Covered in bloody, bandages and gauze,
Protecting the wounds that tear so deep,
Desperate, we start grasping for straws,
Blindly following evil like senseless sheep.
Wrapped in a web of loneliness and pain
We long for someone, anyone to talk to,
Feeling the need to find someone to blame,
Depressed and forlorn, dejected and blue.
Stuck in an endless revolving glass door,
Repeating bad choices of ignorance and sin,
Seeing our life as an endless, tedious chore,
Trapped in our whirlpool, we spin and spin.
Resigned to feeling that our life is over,
We stop struggling and just shut down,
Longing for fields covered in green clover,
Our face is etched in a permanent frown.
Amid the darkness that covers our world,
Comes a soft, sweet voice that opens our eyes,
A voice that leaps and dances and twirls,
A voice that brightens our black clouded skies.
Thinking our cocoon, filled with our sorrows and woes,
Was all that our life was supposed to be made of,
Resigned to the fact that our life was coming to a close,
Forgetting the loving God, who looks down from above.
Curious, we struggle to get closer to the voice,
Hearing a beautiful song that touches our heart,
Giving us the chance to see to a totally new choice,
Our struggles give us a reason to make a new start.
One day our cocoon violently bursts apart at the seams,
Falling to the ground, our mole eyes blinded by a light,
That shines down from above, in bright rainbow beams,
Freeing our limbs from the goo, we suddenly take flight.
Looking down at the remnants of our gooey, broken cocoon,
The winds of God's breath takes us higher and higher,
With effortless ease, we gently sweep and swoon,
Flying with wings, sprinkled with marigolds and sapphires.
As He fills our ears with His gentle whispers of love,
Filling us with a love that ever so gently urges us to try,
A love that waits to give us all that we wish and dream of,
Leaving behind our cocoon of worries and woes, we fly.
July 15, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
She heard the soft sweet voice of His call,
She was drawn by a strong love of the Lord,
To a life that centered on giving her all,
A life blessed with a spiritual reward.
With Saint Joseph as her daily companion and guide,
She taught parables from history and the tables of math,
Showing the children the blessings of having God by their side
She taught by example, the importance of traveling God's path.
Working with the youth was a blessing in itself,
Filled with the Holy spirit, their passion to follow Jesus,
Was evident in the kindness towards others they felt,
Their faith was breathtaking, as in God they put their trust.
Braving the cold of Alaska's wintery plains,
She brought God's love to warm many cold hearts,
Traveling many miles over the cold snowy terrain,
She ministered to all, even those many miles apart.
Whether it was the long days, when the sun never went down,
Or the endless nights, when the sun never appeared in the sky,
She travelled to remove villages and all of St. Mary's little towns,
Selflessly sharing her love, healing the wounded who needed to cry.
The next stop on her journey was Good Shepherd Parish in Maine,
As a welcome relief to the many overworked priests and volunteers,
Beginning with her gifts as teacher and educator, she started to train,
Soon everyone appreciated all of her talents, starting with Monsignor.
To all she met she would gently wrap with her warm, loving greeting,
With a Christmas list of things to do, she worked tirelessly day and night,
Whether she was needed to oversee the many committees or meetings,
Or find new ways to open young minds to God's glorious light.
No matter the long hours she had to keep,
The endless meetings and the tasks that needed to be done,
She always followed her promise to tend the Lord's sheep,
And somehow she managed to make all the work fun.
Sadly she leaves behind very large shoes to fill,
We wish her good luck and with tears in our eyes,
We thank her for showing us how to follow God's will,
With grateful hearts, we all say our goodbyes.
June 16, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Our angels fly by day and they fly by night,
Holding our hand when the world makes us cry,
Sprinkling our dreams with sunshine and light,
Bringing us peace when we scream and ask why.
In a world blinded by the gaudy glare of gold,
Infected with a contamination of greed and pride,
Impetuously following as Satan leads us to the scaffold,
Believing ourselves too powerful for a spiritual guide.
Mesmerized by menacing memories of diffidence,
That marshmallow minds and lockjaw limbs,
Taking shelter under rainless nebulous particles of darkness,
Frozen together into endless, agonizing cryptonyms.
Always by our side, our angels pierce the murky blackness,
Bursting forth with a bright golden beam of God's love,
Floating on zephyr winds that gently caress,
Our angels fly ever vigilant in the skies above.
Our angels, those soft loving voices we hear in our hearts,
Singing sweetly to us when our hearts are screaming with pain,
Songs of hope, when our world is being violently ripped apart,
Hymns of love, that bring the sun, banishing the skies of rain.
Angels show us the love that surrounds us every day,
Gently guiding us through the myriad of choices we make,
Helping us to overcome the obstacles that block our way,
As we become loving souls learning to give, instead of take.
Never abandoning the widows or orphans,
Angels that are with us whatever our stage of life,
Guiding us through, when the evil one crushes our plans,
Protecting us from all our worldly struggles and strife.
Our angels teach us how to love all our neighbors,
Loving our friends is easy, but to love our enemies is hard,
Sometimes the depth of this love is more than we bargained for,
The one thing we cannot obtain with our obliging charge card.
The angels with Jesus at the Sermon on the Mount,
Are with us today, helping us with our trials on this planet Earth,
The ones that surround us each day are far too numerous to count,
And as God decreed, a guardian angel is assigned to us at our birth.
Our guardian angels are always at our side,
But sometimes when difficult moments arise,
Other angels are called in to help turn the tide,
With help from the Lord, they shed their heavenly guise.
Faceless strangers who help us when we are in need,
Coming to our rescue, when Satan tries to stand in our way,
White knights or beautiful maidens, appearing with Godspeed,
Picking us up when we fall and brightening our world when we pray.
There are special angels for those who no longer go to Mass,
People wandering aimlessly, no idea what is missing in their search,
And angels for those who only attend Mass at Easter and Christmas,
These are the Holy Angels who guide them back to God's church.
There are even angels for those who don't agree with the Pope,
As well as those who are upset with the actions of a priest,
Healing the wounds caused by suppressed sadness, angels bring hope,
Leading all to the blessings overflowing in the Eucharistic feast.
When we pray with the Saints and the Holy Angels above,
Releasing the secret dreams we hold deep in our heart,
Letting go of old wounds that have kidnapped our love,
Angels carry our prayers straight to Jesus' Most Sacred Heart.
When we let go of our human, stubborn, selfish pride,
We release ourselves from the bonds of Satan's death squad,
Allowing our Most Holy Angels to be our spiritual guide,
We fly gently into the waiting arms of our loving God.
Our Most Holy Angels, along with Mary our Blessed Mother,
Watch over us with a pure love we only dare to dream of,
A divine love coming directly from the Lord God, our Father,
A loving Father, that radiates an endless unconditional love.
May 30, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
On this day of celebration for Mother's
We give thanks to God for Mary,
For all the graces and blessings,
She showers on all her children.
We are thankful for her guidance,
For when we are lost and afraid,
She gently takes our hand,
And brings us to the safety of her Son.
She brings us light when the world is dark,
Giving us the courage to walk our path,
When the way is filled with storm clouds,
She reflects the light from her Son to guide our way.
Bringing hope and a peace the world so desperately needs,
A new light to those blinded by their possessions,
A new way of seeing our friends and neighbors,
Through the eyes of her son, Jesus, who loves us.
She is a Mother to all of her children,
Those with families and those without,
Bringing her motherly love to all,
Showing us the way to her son, Jesus
She loves all her children, whatever their age,
Wrapping her soft, blue cloak around them,
For it is within the safety of her motherly mantel,
That we truly feel the love from the Holy Trinity.
As we walk these spring days of May,
Praying our rosaries and giving thanks,
For the abundance of graces and blessings,
She shares with all those who call her Mom.
May 01, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Like Zacchaeus we are small,
Invisible to those in the world,
Focused on a materialistic mission.
Missing the breath taking beauty of birds in flight,
The hope revealed in the splendor of the morning sun,
The peace embraced in the examination of our conscious.
Blind to the sweet smell of spring flowers as they sway,
With the song of God's love soaring in the soft breezes,
Softly calling our name, over the roar of the world.
As we climb the sycamore of our faith,
Struggling to catch of glimpse of Jesus,
We gasp as he pauses beneath the tree.
We open our eyes to find the roles have been reversed,
We are the one standing at the foot of a tree,
Looking up, we see Jesus nailed to the cross.
He is asking us enter through the narrow door,
A tiny door that frightens the strong and powerful,
Those unable to break free of the weight of their wealth.
But the plain brown door holds great promise,
And when we have the courage to open it, we find,
The ability to love our neighbor unconditionally.
As we climb down from our high sycamore of false security,
Open our hearts to the call of our Lord and Savior,
Jesus welcomes us to dine with Him at His table of salvation.
March 20, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Blinded by the brightness of the neon lights,
We ignore the sins staring us in the face,
Flashing neon lights, fluorescent street lights,
Shamelessly increase our never resting pace.
As we frantically run faster and faster and faster,
Driven by our need to do more, to be more, to have more,
Seduced into believing, we are our own master,
Our lives begin to mutate into one enormous chore.
Mesmerized by the shiny, bejeweled ghoul,
Hidden in the glare of our iniquitous darkness,
Sin silently sneaks in to steal our unprotected soul,
Chuckling at the intensity of our self-centered arrogance.
Thinking we are safe in the fake neon lights,
Lulled into complacency and security,
Unaware of the seriousness of our plight,
We ignore the warnings from the Holy Trinity.
As the snow crunches loudly beneath our feet,
Missing the warmth of our precious sunlight,
We realize how close we are to the burning heat,
Emanating from the blinding, neon lights.
We turn to a light born from compassion to others,
A life-giving light that Jesus brings into our lives,
As we share God's love with our sisters and brothers,
Its warmth bestows hope and gives us new life.
A light that unites us and loves us for who we are,
Accepting our human frailties and weaknesses,
Like the shepherds and wise men who followed the star,
We bow down and honor the creed we profess.
Just as James and John left Zebedee, their father,
We too must put down our nets and follow Him,
Praying for forgiveness from our eternal Father,
We ask for strength to help us turn away from sin.
As we leave behind the neon lights of our busy lives,
Resting safely in the peace of God's life giving light,
Rejecting the bright lights as our only way to survive,
We allow God's love to help us through the night.
January 22, 2011
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links