The Rosary

THE
ROSARY
OF
LIFE

In the Rosary
Of life

I could never
Be a bead

I am merely
A link -

I think

Of the Rosary
Of life –

I drink.

St. Margaret Clitherow, pray for us

Queen's Eldest Grandson Weds Canadian
Bride Renounces Roman Catholic Faith, Joins Church of England
By SANG TAN,
AP
Posted: 2008-05-17 23:27:41

http://news.aol.com/story/_a/queens-eldest-grandson-weds-canadian/20080517212709990001?icid=100214839x1202392553x1200086627

THE
PEARL OF YORK

A girl, a lady,
Wife, a mother,
From church of England
She saw the other.

The other, where,
Her church came from.
The other, where,
The fruit was plumb.

The other, where,
Her church beat down,
And looted jewels
For earthly crown.

And watching, she,
Was irritated,
And slowly grew
Sophisticated.

Sitting, silent,
In her shell,
Her home, a place,
Where priests could dwell,

Confect the Mass,
Many saved,
For this, their limbs
And lives were braved.

Because a woman
Kept her shell,
A jealous fortress
Barring hell.

And then the weak
Pried open wide,
Exposing truth,
The shell’s inside,

Where mother, wife,
Lady, girl,
Had turned into
York’s royalist pearl.

our daily potato!

SWEET
POTATOES

Potatoes mashed.
Potatoes smashed.
Potatoes buttered,
Browned and hashed.

Potatoes broiled.
Potatoes boiled.
Potatoes seared,
Wrapped and foiled.

Potatoes whipped.
Potatoes flipped.
Potato pancakes,
Syrup-dipped.

Potatoes baked.
Potatoes caked.
Potatoes augratin,
Floured and shaked.

So, unless you're a dummy,
You'll never feel crummy,
When you learn the potato
Is best in your tummy!

Wow!! A Picaso!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FIRST HOLY
COMMUNICANTS

Walk, walk, walk,
Pray and do not talk.
See the lilac spray?
A purpled-penanced May

Absolves us into June,
Where you'll receive Him soon.
Your soul of spring-fed grace...
A pristine dwelling place.

LaSalette Lions going to Rugby 2008 NATIONALS!!!

LASALETTE

LIONS

For Christ the King

The lions score

And for our Lady

Their Rosaries rrrooooaaaaaRRRRRR!

(and

Happy

Mother's

Day

to

me)

little red hen

BEFORE THE OTHERS

Before the others

One man stood

Before the others

Spoke the truth

Before the others

For the good

Before the others

Yes, forsooth,

Before the others

Gripped his staff

Before the others

Sailed the sea

Before the others

Net and gaff

Before the others

All for thee.

Mother's Day

MY
MOTHER’S
FEET

Withered, wearied,
Ripped and torn,
My mother’s feet
Were rough and worn.

For they had carried
Future’s weight,
Engraved by God
Her pregnant plate.

No money for
The perfect fit –
So when in pain
She’d pray and sit

Until her purpled
Blood would race
Body, soul
Varicosed in grace.

And though so wearied,
Withered, torn,
Emeralds fade…
‘Fore feet so worn.

Ireland

ODE
TO
ALICE
QUINN

I am
American
Because of
My birth,

But grandmother
Said,
“There is one place
On earth,

Someday,
You
Must
Visit,

Where
Great Saints
Did
Trod.

Stick a
Feather
In your
*ss…

And fly
Back
To the
Sod!”