The crosses that most women carry every day,
May seem to be petite and effortless in weight,
But they are a deceivingly demanding burden,
And at times bear the weight of the entire world.
For those women who have children and a family,
Their pain comes from more than the birthing process,
A pain that initially originated from forbidden fruit,
It is a pain that follows their children all through life.
It begins with the transition from the helpless baby,
Who looked to their mother for their every wish and need,
To the adolescent whose constant attempts at freedom,
Strike at the very heart of the mother who raised them.
And for those women who live a life without children,
Those whose hearts ache at their unwanted barrenness,
Or the ones who made the choice to remain childless,
The pains they carry are substantial and arduous.
Then there are the women who walk their path alone,
Whether divorced or widowed or those who never married,
Their solitary path is not without its share of obstacles,
They carry their cross without a Simeon to help them.
Being the fallible human beings that we all are,
It is in our nature to sometimes be envious of others,
The busy mother who with all the strains of motherhood,
Looks to the executive and only sees an exciting career.
While the executive with her meetings and deadlines,
Sometimes longs for the smile a child gives its mother,
And the women frazzled with both a career and a family,
Often wonder what it would be like to have just one.
And for the women who chose religious life as their path,
Although their walk with God can be a fulfilling one,
There are times when they too wonder about their choice,
As their path is filled with its own unique set of struggles.
No matter the calling or path that women chose to walk,
The crosses they carry are by no means easy to bear,
There are times in every woman's life when she gets tired,
When her cross becomes overwhelming and tedious.
It is during these grueling times of trial and hardship,
That women's prayer life becomes their own Simeon,
When women carry their crosses with a love of prayer,
The weight of the cross is transformed into heartfelt joy.
O my God! I ask of thee for myself and for those who I hold dear,
the grace to fulfill perfectly thy Holy Will, to accept for love of thee,
the joy and sorrow of this passing life, so that we may be united together
in heaven for all Eternity. Amen.
---St Thérèse of Lisieux
November 7, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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When the desert storms of spiritual dryness,
Blow through bringing confusion and chaos,
And the severe intense sandstorms of sin,
Blind us from God's wonderful love and light,
We batten the hatches and weather the storm.
We surround ourselves in the stillness of prayer,
Knowing that God will protect us and keep us safe,
The wailing winds attempt to invade our thoughts,
But we patiently wait for the storm to subside,
Wrapped in the cloak of God's unconditional love.
When the shifting sands of sin finally cease,
We open our eyes and see Jesus in front of us,
He is standing by the well of living water,
He hands us a restoring, confessional cup,
Where we deposit all the sins that cover us.
We are refreshed with the cup of living water,
We look down and see our white Baptismal gown,
Washed clean by the Precious Blood of Jesus,
Shimmering and free from the sands of our sins,
We dance and rejoice in the Lord always.2
Our Baptism, a gift from our loving God,
It will be our priceless, protective garment,
No storms, no matter how severe or tenacious,
Will be able to separate us from the Love of God,
That comes to us from Christ Jesus, Our Lord.3
1Cooper O'Boyle, Donna-Marie. (2012). Rooted in Love. Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press.
2Philippians 4:4
3Romans 8:38
November 6, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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I wish I could say that my prayer life,
Is a flaming ember that ignites my soul,
Most days it erupts into a flaming inferno,
That suddenly roars like the king of the jungle,
But then burns down as quickly as it begins.
Or other days it is a smoldering ember,
That just cannot seem to get started,
However, the really good news,
Is that the ember, never really goes out,
It just waits patiently in the darkness.
As hard as I try, the steps I take to improve,
Rush up and down like a roller coaster,
And once my tornado mind starts spinning,
The floodgates burst wide open and,
Thousands of thoughts come gushing out.
And so each morning as I awake,
Before my feet even touch the floor,
I reach for the Rosary next to my bed,
And as my sleepy fingers move over the beads,
The prayers flow and entwine with my breath.
Later on, I walk by the bedside table,
Where my Breviary prayer book sits unopened,
Most days I force myself to stop,
And as I open and turn the inviting pages,
My prayers float wordlessly with the clouds.
But on days when my mind is whirling,
God sits alone, patiently waiting,
As I pass by the table a thousand times,
Flying aimlessly around and around,
I allow distractions to steal my serenity.
However, the amazing thing is this,
When I put more effort into my prayers,
My life seems immensely less stressed,
Happiness finds its way into my heart,
And I feel a closer connection with God.
And the more time I spend with God,
I somehow don't seem to mind those days,
When the darkness overwhelms me,
And His Presence seems distant and aloof,
Because I know that His ember is always there.
October 16, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
I wish I could say that my prayer life,
Is a flaming ember that ignites my soul,
Most days it erupts into a flaming inferno,
That suddenly roars like the king of the jungle,
But then burns down as quickly as it begins.
Or other days it is a smoldering ember,
That just cannot seem to get started,
However, each morning as I awake,
I reach for the Rosary next to my bed,
And as my sleepy fingers move over the beads,
The prayers flow and entwine with my breath.
Later on, I walk by the bedside table,
Where my Breviary prayer book sits unopened,
Most days I force myself to stop,
And as I open and turn the inviting pages,
My prayers float wordlessly with the clouds.
However, the amazing thing is this,
When I put more effort into my prayers,
My life seems immensely less stressed,
Happiness finds its way into my heart,
And I feel a closer connection with God.
And the more time I spend with God,
I somehow don't seem to mind those days,
When the darkness overwhelms me,
And His Presence seems distant and aloof,
Because I know that His ember is always there.
October 16, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Judgmental thoughts insidiously slither,
Into our distracted and cluttered minds,
Slipping stealthily between barriers of good and evil,
They float ominously in the shadows overhead.
These volatile vaporous dangers of deception,
Drizzle and ooze down, poisoning our subconscious,
We travel our path; the sun is brightly shining,
While these nefarious thoughts patiently wait.
Once these ruminations register in our awareness,
They are immediately teleported to processing,
Where they are either immediately rejected,
Or they are allowed to linger and loom over us.
Unaware these thoughts can put on sheep's fur,
They masquerade as helpful critiques for our friends,
Which blind us with cataracts of condescension,
And tempt us to climb onto lofty gold plated pedestals.
Others allow these thoughts to loiter in their minds,
Compelling them to subtly coerce or coral others,
Into the same murky pigeon holed private prisons,
Their ego-based assumptions have chained them in.
When the floodgates and causeways of our compassion,
Are obstructed with the wooden planks of our pride,
We watch as our sins splinter and shatter our heart,
Slicing bloody gushing slits in our armor of perfection.
Once we loosen the bonds of perfection that drive us,
And we start looking at everyone through God's eyes,
We annihilate our need to control the actions of others,
And our compassion and empathy begin to flow.
When we allow our eyes and hearts to open to God's love,
HE blesses us with a love that flames over our barriers,
Our judgmental thoughts dissolve into dust and disappear,
And we radiate God's love with all those we meet.
Once we start forgiving seventy times seven times,
God reaches down and gently picks us up,
Holding us close, He whispers in our ear,
All those loving words, we so long to hear.
Dear Lord,
Help me to let go of my thunderous, rushing whirlpool vision that only sees the flaws in others.
Help me to be the calm, whispering water that sees people through God's loving eyes.
1Luke 6:41-42
October 16, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
Back to Poetry Links
Judgmental thoughts insidiously slither,
Into our distracted and cluttered minds,
Slipping stealthily between barriers of good and evil,
They float ominously in the shadows overhead.
These volatile vaporous dangers of deception,
Drizzle and ooze down, poisoning our subconscious,
We travel our path; the sun is brightly shining,
While these nefarious thoughts patiently wait.
Unaware these thoughts can put on sheep's fur,
They masquerade as helpful critiques for our friends,
Which blind us with cataracts of condescension,
And tempt us to climb onto lofty gold plated pedestals.
Others allow these thoughts to loiter in their minds,
Compelling them to subtly coerce or coral others,
Into the same murky pigeon holed private prisons,
Their ego-based assumptions have chained them in.
When the floodgates and causeways of our compassion,
Are obstructed with the wooden planks of our pride,
We watch as our sins splinter and shatter our heart,
Slicing bloody gushing slits in our armor of perfection.
When we allow our eyes and hearts to open to God's love,
HE blesses us with a love that flames over our barriers,
Our judgmental thoughts dissolve into dust and disappear,
And we radiate God's love with all those we meet.
Once we start forgiving seventy times seven times,
God reaches down and gently picks us up,
Holding us close, He whispers in our ear,
All those loving words, we so long to hear.
Dear Lord,
Help me to let go of my thunderous, rushing whirlpool vision that only sees the flaws in others.
Help me to be the calm, whispering water that sees people through God's loving eyes.
1Luke 6:41-42
October 16, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Looking at the world,
From inside a glass enclosure,
Caught in a whirlpool of mistakes,
Unable to find a way out.
Pressing a face against the glass,
Longing to be able to breath,
Hating this prison of phobias,
Wishing to run and be free.
Tired of living with the continuous,
Could haves, Should haves, Would haves,
Wishing to be courageous and strong,
Tired of always being frightened.
Drowning in depression and despair,
Longing for a friend to talk to,
To swim around the fake ferns,
To dart in and out of the castle.
Praying for the humility to endure,
The courage to take a different path,
Watching the world of twos and pairs,
While stuck swimming in a solo sphere.
Perhaps the glass has its advantages,
Protection from a world of bullies,
From the taunts and hurtful teasing,
Of those who cannot understand.
Fewer distractions from an egocentric world,
Where money and power are imperative,
Instead having silence and time to be with God,
Saying prayers for all those who need His help.
Perceiving that the prison is outside the glass,
Watching those chained by bondages of greed,
Thankful for the safety and security of the glass,
Grateful for God’s loving grace and attention.
He surrounds all His children with His love,
Sharing His precious love and goodness,
Protecting those who need his fortification,
Holding them close to His Sacred Heart.
October 10, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Some of us sail through life,
With a ship full of useless cargo,
Always navigating by the rear view mirror,
And watching the wake we leave behind.
Caught in the interminable whirlpool,
Of could have, should haves, and would haves,
Unable to break the cycle,
We circle endlessly around and around.
Envious of those sleek sailing ships
Equipped with a sound compass,
And clean white sails,
That can take them anywhere.
Our ship was scuttled early in life,
With its cracked mains and tattered sails,
Tossed about by ignoble winds,
And covered with ugly barnacles.
Our only hope is to procure a sea captain,
We encourage anyone and everyone to apply,
No recommendations or qualifications are required,
However, after looking at our ship, most walk away.
A few with limited sailing experience applied,
Unable to discern our obtuse guidance system,
Some bailed after only a few days,
The others abandoned after the ship floundered.
We watch as a multitude of ships pass by,
All either unwilling or unable to help,
We feel completely helpless and so alone,
As the waves slap teasingly against our ship.
Wishing for a better sense of direction,
A wisdom everyone else seems to have,
Tired of being stuck in a cyclonic pattern,
We mourn that life seems to be passing us by.
One day, we open the door to the cargo hold,
And pull out the crates of anger and resentment,
We toss them overboard into the sea,
Doing the same for the crates of jealousy and envy.
The more crates we toss over the side,
The lighter the ship becomes,
Once the useless weight no longer holds us down,
The ship becomes easier to sail.
We look to the skies for direction,
And as we stop looking at the wake behind us,
We start to follow the sun,
And the ship starts responding to our commands.
We invite God to become our helmsman,
He gives us a totally new direction to travel,
Soon our cargo hold is filled
With crates of confidence and strength.
Whenever we get lost or lonely,
God is just a prayer away,
He hears the creaking of our ship,
And the fluttering of its tattered sails.
God hold us gently in His strong arms,
He calms the stormy seas of concern,
He quiets the howling winds of worry,
And He loves us with unconditional love.
September 20, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Some of us sail through life,
With a ship full of useless cargo,
Always navigating by the rear view mirror,
And watching the wake we leave behind.
Caught in the interminable whirlpool,
Of could haves, should haves, and would haves,
Unable to break the cycle,
We circle endlessly around and around.
Envious of those sleek sailing ships
Equipped with a sound compass,
And clean white sails,
That can take them anywhere.
Our only hope is to procure a sea captain,
We encourage anyone and everyone to apply,
No recommendations or qualifications are required,
However, after looking at our ship, most walk away.
One day, we open the door to the cargo hold,
And pull out the crates of anger and resentment,
We toss them overboard into the sea,
Doing the same for the crates of jealousy and envy.
We look to the skies for direction,
And as we stop looking at the wake behind us,
We start to follow the sun,
And the ship starts responding to our commands.
We invite God to become our helmsman,
He gives us a totally new direction to travel,
Soon our cargo hold is filled
With crates of confidence and strength.
Whenever we get lost or lonely,
God is just a prayer away,
He hears the creaking of our ship,
And the fluttering of its tattered sails.
God hold us gently in His strong arms,
He calms the stormy seas of concern,
He quiets the howling winds of worry,
And He loves us with unconditional love.
September 20, 2106
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Luke 15:1-32
Jesus leaves the ninety-nine,
He searches the busy streets and highways,
He listens for our silent bleating's,
He lovingly sets us on His shoulders,
A coin rolls off the table,
Jesus lights His lamp of mercy,
He sweeps our lives upside down,
He calms our worried hearts.
Lured by the bright lights of distant cities,
We chose to leave Jesus behind,
We work night and day without rest,
Dying from hunger, we finally wake up.
The moment we reconcile with Jesus,
He wraps us in His robe of mercy,
He puts a ring on our finger,
And prepares His Eucharistic feast.
No matter how many times we fall,
Or how many times we wander away,
Jesus ignites His floodlight of mercy,
Beckoning us back to His eternal love.
He carries us close in His strong arms,
And as we lay our head on His chest,
We feel the heart that beats just for us,
Rejoice because the lost has been found.1
1Luke 15:327
September 18, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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1 Kings 17:7-16/Matthew 5:13-16
A few scrawny sticks,
A handful of meal,
A few drops of oil,
A last meal.
Do not be afraid,
A little cake made with love,
Stepping out of the shadow of fear,
Climbing up to the city on a hill.
The prophet speaks to all of us,
Leave the secular “What if” world behind,
Empty the flour jar,
Pour out the last bit of oil.
Until our shelves are empty
God cannot grant us His Grace,
So, turn over the bushel basket,
And put your lamp on the lampstand.
Jesus, I trust in You!!!
June 7, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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When our lives take a bad turn,
Over-sized obstacles obliterate our path,
The terrain becomes treacherous,
Darkness descends and clouds our choices.
Determined to keep our cherished dreams,
We scale sheer walls with our fingertips,
Higher and higher we climb,
We become surrounded by obscurity.
Friends call out to us,
Begging us to stop,
We ignore their pleas,
And continue to climb.
In the silence of our prayers,
We feel abandoned and alone,
With bloody fingers and toes,
We keep climbing.
Most dreams follow a safe path,
However, sometimes our dreams turn toxic,
Some see this and easily adapt to a new path,
Others need a tsunami to get their attention.
When the reality of our dreams turn deadly,
Memories morph into fanciful, fictional fantasies,
Our nightmares are camouflaged into treasured delusions,
And the villains of our dreams don red tights and a cape.
Holding on too tightly to our toxic dreams,
Blinds us from seeing the honest truth,
Once we relinquish control of the lens,
It reflects the reality we were unable to see.
Our new path develops into a daily routine,
Our dreams get shoved into the shadows of our past,
Where covert terrorists lay waiting for the right moment,
To capture our thoughts and hold them captive.
God sends little flickers of light,
That dance on the walls of our shadows,
His love and guidance will steer us,
Onto the path that He created just for us.
When we reach out to our Lord and Savior,
He will show us a path that is breathtaking,
And treasures beyond our comprehension,
All He asks is that we put our faith in Him.
No one who sets a hand to the plow
and looks to what was left behind
is fit for kingdom of God.
--Luke 9:62
June 24, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Finding Jesus in the monstrance,
Allowing His loving gaze to fall upon us,
Feeling it course through our capillaries,
Flowing freely into our fingers and toes.
In the silence between prayers and pleadings,
The white host lovingly reaches out,
With a towel around the waist,
It washes away the sinister smell of sin.
What I am doing, you do not understand now,
But you will understand later,
Rising, we walk towards the lost and lonely,
Sharing our smile with the strangers we meet.
May 30, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Sitting in the soft, silvery silence of the evening,
Beneath the velvets void of a divine black ceiling,
Pierced by the occasional sparkling cosmic radiance,
We listen for the wondrous whispers from a loving God.
As we gazed into the memory mirror of the day's events,
We contemplate the activities that entertained and engaged us,
Perceiving those petite pockets of prayer protecting our pathways,
Reflecting on the various relationships that revolved around us.
Suddenly the silence is smashed by shouting silhouettes,
As the ostentatious outer events of the secular world,
Try to outshine the humble inner victories of the day,
A deafening dichotomy that divides the heart and mind.
As a sweet shawl of prayer quietly floats by on zephyr winds,
It softy shifts through all the chaff and the wheat,
Helping us to listen and to discern our mystifying thoughts,
As the fragrant whispers of wheat settle in our hearts.
With the cataracts of chaff removed from our eyes of faith,
We let go of our human judgements and perceptions,
Observing the footage through our special lens of spirituality,
Hoping to perceive the panorama of God's tender mercy.
We also glimpse the few successful snippets of our sacrifices,
The harsh words of ours that never saw the light of day,
The times we smiled in response to unjustified criticisms,
The joys that buddle over the top of our inner desolation.
With the assistance from God's glorious grace and wisdom,
Patterns that themes begin to emerge from the day's events,
And as we attempt to sort the memories from the mistakes,
We recognize our failings and pray for mercy and forgiveness.
And patiently waiting in a small, quiet corner of our soul,
The Holy Spirit gently guides us in our discernment,
With a whisper of a wish for those willing to hear His words,
He shares God''s love and grace to hearts open and receptive.
April 12, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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God created us to be a glorious gift,
He takes our sorrowful, broken lives,
Our shattered and damaged dreams,
And redeems them with His fantastic love.
Instead of seeking Him at Mass,
Or in the rosary or a prayer meeting,
Or whenever we have a particular problem,
He desires that we willingly seek Him “always.”
Each morning we see a different sky,
Using diverse colors, shades and hues,
The clouds and sun create a distinctive image,
Imageries as unique as a single snowflake.
The same applies to God's love for us,
Just as the spring flowers wake up,
Breaking through the cold, frozen earth,
God's love breaks through our cold hearts.
And as the sun and the spring warm weather,
Coax the tulips and daffodils to bloom,
So does God's warm arms wrap around us,
And encourage our spiritual wings to soar.
And as spring flowers grow and blossom,
So too does our spiritual soul bloom,
And as we are maturing and changing,
God's love transforms into what we need.
He follows us and walks with us,
And just like the Footprints poem,
When our lives take a turn for the worse,
He comes, scoops us up and carries us.
God loves us SO much and is SO patient,
He patiently waits for us to come to Him,
And so he does not overwhelm our fragile souls,
He reveals only microscopic pieces of His radiance.
Little glimmers of light and soft whispers,
That guide us and encourage us to follow,
Just as the tulips and daffodils follow the sun,
So too, do we follow the light of Christ our Lord.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God came to be a servant,
And through God's love He serves each one of us,
Are we going to be like Peter and reject his assistance,2
Or are we going to humbly accept the love He gives?
The God of yesterday is gone forever,
Just as each morning brings a new day,
Each day brings a new reflection of God,
The closer we get to Him, the closer He is to us.
Our God is a fantastic and awesome God,
His love is always new and constantly transforming,
And each day He reflects a new diamond facet,
As He reveals His unconditional love for us.
1Father Pat Martin, “God's Redeeming Love in our Broken Lives,” Ave Maria Place, Stafford Springs, CT, 2011
1John 13:8
March 14, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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The brightly wrapped gift sits quietly on the table,
Wondering whether or not he will be accepted,
Knowing he contains both positive and negative traits,
He hopes they will be able to see God's love in him.
Just because the gift is a gracious gift from God,
Does not mean it will be automatically accepted,
Many people cannot see the gift's true value,
They only see the expensive price tag.
For many people, the price is too high,
They focus on all the things they cannot do,
Only seeing the doors that are closed to them,
Unable to imagine the doors that God will open.
Watching with a mixture of apprehension and anxiety,
As the wrapping paper eagerly flies from the box,
Then the initial faces of horror as the gift is revealed,
Jumping back as fear and uncertainty rears their head.
Within seconds family and friends turn to each other,
Concealing their shock with smiles of support,
Grasping hands held together in prayer,
They pray for the receiver of the gift.
Blankly staring at the unopened gift on the table,
They speculate on how they can return it,
Perhaps it can be exchanged for another gift,
They believe this clearly must be a mistake.
One by one all the family and friends,
Say an unspoken prayer of gratitude,
That this particular gift from God,
Never appeared on their table.
After the initial shock wears off,
Plans are made to deal with the gift,
Appointments with professional are scheduled,
Prayers are said for medical miracles.
Dark glasses, canes and chemo wigs are procured,
Wheelchair and walker disguises are created,
A tasteful daybed is moved into the living room,
The gift recipient becomes a recluse.
The gift gets locked in a basement closet,
Hidden from strangers on the street,
The truth is concealed from outsiders,
As the family hides behind drawn shades.
Sometimes we may think that God hates us,
We wonder why he gives awesome treasures to some,
But to us, he only gives gifts of gross garbage,
We begin to wonder what we did wrong.
When our gifts from God are seen as obstacles,
Ones that are barriers that block us from being normal,
Our eyes are obscured with cataracts of negativity,
We hate our gift and wonder why it came to us.
Our loving Father is so patient with us,
His lessons are gentle and soothing,
As he slowly removes the layers of cataracts,
He helps us to see the possibilities of our gift.
Our gift becomes miraculously transformed,
From an obstacle that we hate and despise,
To a gift with a magnitude of graces and blessings,
From a Master Recycler, who turns garbage into treasures.
Our gift goes from something we never wanted,
Into something we desperately needed to receive,
So that we would journey down our very own path,
Instead of the path that our selfish will had chosen.
As we change the way we interact with God,
Thinking we have to be good to deserve His love,
God love us because, not because of anything we do,
God loves us because of His redeeming love.
1Father Pat Martin, God's Redeeming Love in our Broken Lives, Ave Maria Place, Stafford Springs, CT, 2011
March 13,2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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Some folks discern their call early in life,
God fills their hearts with His Grace and Mercy,
However, even as they turn their lives toward Him,
Some still insist on driving their own vehicle.
Unaware of threatening changes in the terrain,
Suddenly the rushing river turns into a stone dry bed,
And they are forced to abandon their idyllic boat,
But because of God's gift of free will, they have a choice.
Some folks spend their life searching for a new vehicle,
Refusing to accept the many options along the way,
Ranting and wailing to everyone about God's unfairness,
They are too focused on the brilliant boat that they lost
Some insist on pushing or carrying their boat,
Determined they will find water at some point,
While others look around their environment,
And chose to see what God has left for them.
For some it's just a plain, old walking stick,
Which they gratefully accept as their cross to bear,
For others it's a shiny new all-terrain vehicle,
Meant to carry them across the bumpy rocks.
As soon as we accept the vehicle God gives us,
The dark, storm clouds part and the sun comes out,
And although the rough, rocky river bed is still there,
Our hearts are light and the sun is bright.
March March 12, 2016
© 2007, Jacqueline Newport, Purple Poetry Path
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