Best Eucharist Poems
Lasting Treasure (2/11/23)
Lord, in this Bread
I see Thy Face
Bread that’s not bread
Sight of which, the only trace
O Jesus, Your countenance
With radiance shines
Garment of white
This beauty, Thine
Highest Priest, adorned in glory
Red stole, Your mercy reminds us of
Your Body and Blood always given
On Your altars from Above
Your peace streams forth
From Your welcoming smile
Pulling us to You to
Love You and stay a while
Your heart of gold
Your perfect will
Draws me further in
To be closer still
O loving Host
Christ, not bread
Keep hold of me
That on my final bed
This time spent aching
For You eternally
Be granted to Your servant
Lowly though I be
Each moment I crave more
Though treasure these moments, I do
Break my chains of sin
My lasting Treasure be You
Fr. Christ said “I am the living bread that came down from heaven...
If anyone eats this bread
He will live forever
Who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, abides in Me and I in him"
Essential signs of Eucharistic Sacrament are wheat bread and grape wine
Communion with the Body and Blood of Fr. Christ increases the communicant’s union
with the Lord God.
Receiving this sacrament strengthens the bonds of charity between the communicant and Fr. Christ
It also reinforces the unity of the Church as the mystical Body of Fr. Christ
The Church recommends the faithful to receive the Holy Communion at least once a year.
Fr. Christ Himself is present in the sacrament of the altar
He is to be honored with the worship adoration
To visit the Blessed Sacrament is a proof of gratitude
Expression of love
Duty of adoration toward Fr. Christ, Jesus our Lord
Written 09182012
Completes the Christian Initiation
Sublime cause of Holy Communion
Father Christ changed the bread and wine to His body and blood
Participate actively in the Mass
04052014
when staring at e. e. cummings’ little ‘i’
—not reading,
it reminds me of st. francis’ sublime yet humble lowly jesus:
“he hides himself under the little form of bread”
if cummings’ little ‘i’ meant
the ‘i’ overpowered by something like gigantic rock,
overwhelmed by this evil prevailing world,
or intimidated by the malicious neighbors,
the ‘i’ hidden under a piece of bread is the lord
coming as an ‘i’ that is even smaller than the cummings’,
though he is the possessor of the power
and more than able to punish the world,
to save those worthless ‘i’s
for st. francis’ reverence on the consecrated piece of bread is
not of the dwarfish ‘i’ but of a pious one,
let my ‘i’ be not of the blasphemous one’s
but of the pious one’s as well,
the ‘i’ gazing at the forsaken lord
who died on the cross as a lonely ‘i’
We blind Bartaemus we have heard about the temple gate
But have seen no road, nor map for getting there
We only day after day hear the direction the footsteps wears away
And wait injudiciously for the balm of our impediment,
For the seeming joy of crowds coming back
More jubilant than the haste that past our darkness
Tucked away in ouurselves. And we longing
For sight and healing and splendour of the light
From steeple frolicking into adoring eyes and heart,
Yes, we with palms outstretched and ritual of crying,
We come. Here by this gate, the very entrance
To a bolder paradigm of self, and fresh beginning
More than morning dew showering dusty feet
More than mnemonic counting of sound and day's receipt
More than the abundant paradox of divine grace
And feel no difference in the coming and going
But hear the same irreverent haste
Without a native context of meaning for shadowed goals
Without strategic management of dreamers dream
Without wisdom to make the talent multiply
The birds cry above the temple roof all day in arid air
And find no crumb of bread or latent faith of vision
But we blind Bartaemus wait. There is a distant rumbling
A different shuffling of the feet, a better coming of hope
Light, light, light those footsteps fall
Without the weight and bagage of false history
Silver and gold they have not provided for
But we have authority to walk
From these cobbled stones like prisons of his vision crippled
So our cripleness blind feel our legs independence
And tongue the praise of eucharist
And with olympian effort set our jubilee at the finish line
In hedonistic glee.
Along with Jesus' discourse as the Bread of Life,
bears a powerful meaning of his divinity.
It's a metaphor with spiritual truth,
that identifies himself as food for our souls.
As a sign of his broken body and his shed blood;
the inner call reflects to abide in him.
We partake of the meal, a sacred meal,
to make us one with him, abiding in the Lord Jesus Christ.
What an experience of joy to receive him!
with a great deal of gratitude and reflection.
It's a spiritual fulfillment, a source of strength
that enables one to sustain his life amid struggles.
The Eucharist we celebrate each day
draws us to believe that there's hope.
As a spiritual food that makes us grow,
we're hopeful to embrace life and start anew.
Down, down to the Earth,
hide your shameful face.
What is a man without grace?
But an Animal
insane and base.
Fight your inner demons
with your mind.
Free yourself to fly
Up, up to the sky.
I
Bread has an everyday demanding presence, not daily dough
But daily fare across the miles, across ancient ways and wonders
Built by bread in bellies of slaves and laborers: pyramids and others
II
These days, when I say bread, I think of communion
The first with Abraham, when Melchisadek met him near Mamre
Tithing came naturally to Abraham; Priest without beginning brought bread
III
Then Jesus reminded us that these were Christophanies, heralding Him
"The bread of God is he who comes from heaven to give life to the world"
The Gospel of John (6:33) and again, "I am the Bread of Life" (6:48)
IV
You see, Dear Hearts, beyond the staple, the ordinariness of bread (brown)
You practice: flour, oil, salt must be mixed well; use yeast (my sin upon Him)
You knead. Our need. Wait. Knead. Wait. Start fire. A sacrifice (Complete)
This is the day
We break the bread
Cup full of wine
To numb the head
This is the day
When truth reveals
The veil of lies
A mind conceals
This is the day
We knew would be
That thorny cap
Of destiny
Awaits the king
Of hearts and minds
Releasing all the
Chain that binds
This is the day
A final feast
Then walk to face
The mighty beast
A farewell toast
A hug goodbye
Of knowing me
You will deny
We pivot now
Towards the end
Death's lonely path
My feet to wend
A different way
Would be so nice
Now suffering
To sacrifice
This is the day
We eat our last
So I can save you
From your past
So, go I must
My words they stay
New life awaits
This is the day
What but as bread, This appears to be
Is You, Lord, it’s truly Thee
It is You, Lord, I now receive
This is true, not just because I believe
My belief cannot create
Can’t sew a seed, give man a mate
Can’t fashion out of dust
One who knows You, merciful and just
Alone, I am capable of but sin
Despite this belief I hold within
No, my belief doth not make You to be
Nor do You exist because You, I see
To You alone this glory belongs
To be praised in all earthly songs
It is You Who instills this Faith in me
You, Who inspires my will to believe
Purple and red of a very rare sunset flowing up -
Are the colours of the Cremisan wine where Christ did die,
That the rays of grace may shine when every star is present,
That the divine sparks may rejoice in the taste of the cup,
Though it’s a brief moment in the black, directionless sky,
After the red sun of grace went in the cup in descent.
Marcus vocalised “May the speech made before any sound,
Fill your burning cores, increase knowledge in you this advent,
By the mustard seed planted into your hearts that get by.”
Through these words, the largest cup next to the small cup renowned,
Purple, red outpours as meant.
Salt from the sands of Egypt
Sprinkled into wine
To banish dark memories
Red wine mixed with myrrh
Infused with pink salt
Through wisdom
Praise!
Honored Bread (3/6/23)
O honored bread
‘Pon table, blessed
To become the Christ
Who withstood our test
In moment’s word
Our Lord, confessed
Priest’s own hand
Holds belov’d Guest
Once but mere bread
From earthen tomb
Hail we, our King
From Heaven’s womb
O Bread of Life
Our dear Groom
You cause our hearts
To make You room
Once but mere bread
Which God has blessed
You’re now the Christ
Underwent our test
In moment’s word
Who we confessed
By High Priest’s will
Become beloved Guest
Wine is the mother of all
Bread is the son who made all
Wine leaks through the gigantic wall
Bread makes that very loud call
This is my body and blood
The bread is the kind waker
Yet is the one who is slayed
It was before the baker
Despite the bread being baked
This is my body and blood
Wine quenches the hot fire
Bread spreads the burning fire
Wine came from what is higher
Bread reveals what is higher
The is my body and blood
The blood moves within us all
We are all part of the body
The bread was showed to Saul
The wine was drank by many
This is my body and blood
Most radiant host, angelic glory be
Within thy blesséd grace, Portal of Faith.
In simple form You came, yet still through thee
We see theophony, through which God saith,
¨Dear child mine, most valiant flesh now is thine.
Hereby thy peace I grant, through darkest night
With burden light and blood of freshest vine.
My veil, most pale, shines forth the brightest light.¨
And blood, the mark of Christ, by malice drawn
In God's almighty chalice rests untouched.
Though hard we pray, His pain is never gone.
´Till end of times, we shall recall as much.
Most sacred Lamb of God, through pain most sweet
Has sacrificed Himself for us to eat.