Best Missionary Poems
Tell me how may I show you devotion?
No words are left in this dictionary.
Which fool said love is just an emotion?
My Goddess, I am your missionary.
The essence of time is not eternal,
but my adoration is evergreen.
You are a flower that is nocturnal.
Alive in every season - nature's queen.
When adversity knocks upon your door,
let me soothe your misery and sorrow.
Does not matter if we are rich or poor,
I will provide a better tomorrow.
Come lose yourself in desire and passion.
Our romance will invent a new fashion.
Silent One
Originally written on 30 October 2015.
Re posted 17 November 2020
The Rich:
Our lunch is so tasty and luscious
It’s like in the mission we will see
Hmmm….the air so cold and affectionate
I can finally use my money as well as charm
Crap! My gadgets will indeed save me
Branded clothing will be an impression
That is why; I am the best missionary here
Because I have everything the world
Could ever desire.
The Intellectual:
Yes, to teach is my dearest passion
I’m not like you bird brains
Who are ignorant of knowledge and prestige
I’m the only one who can feed minds
One that thinks and reflects
I will make them understand
The meaning and essence, from Soc to Sartre and beyond
That is why I’m the righteous lad
To be an instrument of God
The Humble:
Just think of the adventures we will encounter
I’m not that rich and smart
But to be with the people is our real task
Not to impress, not to be a cutie, and play with coconut husk
All I want to do is be with God’s people
To serve Him with all my heart
My oblation is everything
This sacrifice is only for Him to offer
Not for man but to the transcendental One
The Adjudicator:
That is all true of what you say
But remember that every minute there may be danger
Snakes, NPA’s, ancient spirits and the current as you walk along the river
Remember, you are all unique in different talents
Use them well to do great things
Be sure that before it gets dark you will find your way
Because the best among you
Just lies beneath the veins.
How precious is the life given for mission?
You will all now become a real servant of the Lord
Doing the same, but in different ways
And let us all rise and pray
Evaporate! Be gone and sleep early
For tomorrow you will get wet and dreary
Finish your food; it may be your last
Godspeed and in Him put all your trust!
He sits under the trees of the garden,
As unto the voice of his maker he hearkens,
A pillar of light is he as the world darkens,
Declaring the gospel's true pattern,
Humbled,he stands in the courts of his accusers,
Smiling at the fowl word of his criticizers,
As he diligently speaks the searched scriptures,
Stone hearts, soft he renders,
The joy of a saved soul keeps him going,
As pure desire keeps strength flowing,
Salvation is his aim as he is daily sowing,
For in the vineyard new souls keep growing,
Full is his heart's joy,
Working relentlessly with the speed of a child's toy,
Walking steadfast in temptations toil,
As he returns with companionship of the spirit's coil,
crouching down to
“get on the same level” as the child standing before her/him,
with one hand brushing away a few flies that have
nestled themselves in the hair of the kid
as the sun beats down
burning & burning, for the child at this time
wears no sunscreen, wears no shirt,
standing there almost completely naked---
struggling to understand the broken language
spewing from the missionary’s mouth,
s/he realizes, even at such a young age,
that this person probably spent a year at best
learning the language native to this part of the world &
what they did learn to say,
outside the common everyday functional phrases,
were words, sentences & translation of the
“holy scripture”
so as to form the basis here for a
“christian way of life”
in a land of complete & utter poverty, disease, unbridled warfare &
outright chaos.
what babbling gobbledegook must seem to flow
from the mouth of the eager missionary
(as the child sees the lips move)
wanting to get another notch in their belt,
while at the same time feeling as if they are doing a good thing,
that they are living the way that a fictional character in a book supposedly written
thousands of years ago
would have them do---
it must be like when a dog comes to the kitchen
licking its lips,
wanting nothing but to be fed
&
the owner babbles baby-dog talk to them
ruffling their fur with hands &
itching the belly,
then, with treat in hand,
dangles it in front of them
literally asking them to beg,
roll over, jump up, or
sit like a good dog should.
I was head over heels in love with certain mementos I keep,
they’re like my precious treasures unknown to everyone;
a place where I used to keep them were hidden in my room,
a kind of sanctuary, a private locus sealed with continuity.
I had those stamps collected from different countries and places,
post cards, books, key holders, rosary beads, stampitas, and photos;
they reminded me of my visits to these places where I’d been to,
living memories, collection of souvenirs with values deep within.
Significant places like my home country where my faith began to grow,
along with a diversity of cultures that truly honed and enriched me,
meeting those peoples and experiencing their individual differences,
made me a real person; vulnerable to the needs and issues of being sane.
Across the length of years that I’d spent in keeping those mementos,
some friends, relatives and family members contributed in my own,
as personal stuffs, memoirs, or proofs of having truly been in those places;
from the bottom of my heart, I thank them and indeed, a big difference.
With my constant mobility, however, as one called to serve with migrants,
there’s difficulty to keep them all, carrying them with me wherever I go,
hence, I thought it best to give them away and share with others who like them;
be a simple missionary with nothing much as Christ had told his first disciples.
It’s part of of my religious vows to put into practice what poverty means;
detachment may mean a lot and it embraces nothingness, renunciation –
of one’s will that reflects his agenda for the present and future that holds,
all gets the bottom line - ‘vow of poverty’ in the context of my religious calling.
Maybe
It’s best
Or maybe it’s better to believe
God wishes
To spread His spirit
Like dandelion seed to wind
Where it lands
It should stay
Resist the story of Ham
Embrace Eve
Mission not
In masts of ships or cannons shots
Nor with whips, coins, crowns, holy books, fighter jets
Or in a noose of love
Allow
The flower
To settle with its own face
To root and sow in a fertile place
Bloom in heart
Take shape with all its local smells and colors
A bouquet just for you.
Remembering once when yet a child; gazing..
Quietly through the rear window's glass as time
Within a dream it seemed; she, holding tightly unto
My teddy bear tiny eyes slowy watching be this world
Disappeared while tasting but these, salty tears; echoing
Their voices colourful images and faces ? Still, swirling about
The air love waving it's farewell a sea lives left standing at that
Beauty's gate whispering into teddy's ear look baby, tis Genavieve.
Conversion
Leopard, jugular eyed, silent,
did you pause to rest too long?
See how she pulls you about her throat
how lightly you rest upon her shoulders.
Upon what missionary did you feed
that you should be so converted?
1
Since 1983, I spent each year
With her, or reasonably near
O to think I once was young, in love
With U (USA) running from African woe
That apartheid in South Africa
Yet I hadn't planned to leave her
I'd visit a month or two, less than a year
Even when I worked (one in Mandela's time,
A deputy director in their State Dept.)
But now, I've missed America much
Four years soon, another home
Albeit for a cause (Great Commission)
How i wish I'd not obeyed "religion"
2
Without you, Sundays are free
I have no religious duty or Assembly
I have little to look forward to
But loving U was stressing me also
I made an healthy choice, the break
Now to live -- hour by hour, by the minute
Here and now, though memories rising like Jesus
Reveal addiction to nationalism.
Romulus? Remus?
He approaches the globe like an open dome,
leaving the comforts and confines of home,
seeking to find each tribe, wherever they roam,
to make the power of Christ's sacrifice known.
9-5-2022
1.
I need courage
To live CHRIST-ian
I tasted intimacy
In Triune Communion
2.
At my age
With second family
I cannot complain
Except for spirituality
I wanted visions
Of Jesus, Trinity
3.
Can't see Face
God's. And live?
I settled then
For African evangelism
Still want intimacy
Tasted back then
At Chefoo Reconsidered we did speak
Of faith as something we as children held
To be most precious, with our parents’ fierce
Example holding us to sacred truths
But now as adults with accomplished years
We looked with cool detachment on that fire
And wondered if with tainted motives they
Flew us from homelands to a foreign field
With them to fight for faith against some foe
That now may seem to us imaginary
And in so doing wound our youngling souls
Yet all the same - some fire of faith persists
Be it nostalgia for our Mums and Dads
Or maybe glowing remnant of belief
(Or did the love of Jesus never die?)
Thus in your writings, Andrew, and your poems
A light of kindled faith I feel, and warm
To its blessed incandescent rays as one
Who faith did sometime lose, yet seek again
It's not always that missions are about "the goings" to somewhere else We have felt the tug of God's Spirit and thought he was sending us to
evangelize the world from sea to sea. But we later discovered that God was more pleased when He saw us teaching our families by examples in our homes.
We thought that God was sending us to Africa, and we were willing to go, but God wanted us to be missionaries to our next-door neighbors. We had great
compassion for the Asian continent, but God placed us in the heart of China Town USA to love from door to door. We sensed a solemn call to minister and teach in India, but we never bothered to meet an East Indian in our hometown.
We were well trained and ready to be missionaries in South America,
but we became frustrated when God redirected us to Spanish Harlem. Sometimes mission work is all about "the doings" right where we are.
10292007cjPoSoup
A woman devoted to saints
Of Easter candles and Mass incense
Praised the Lord
Because she had a body
Worthy of merit
That had already been hinted at
More than once
The parish priest in confession:
-My daughter, what's wrong with you?
-A fever, Father
That pierces my heart.
-Do you want me to kill you a bird
Of those you raise at home?
-Yes, kill it for me, Father
When I lift my skirt
And pull down my panties.
This woman had a seven-year-old son
Devoted to that priest
Of whom he became an altar boy.
In a winery owned by his mother
The boy invited him to try
A local wine.
The priest got drunk
From this cool wine
Telling the boy, half-drunk:
-If your mother doesn't change her mind
I want to enjoy your pretty little ass.
-By Saint Isidore!
The boy replied furiously.
I don't want your clapper to ring
On my little ass.
Are you starving, Father?
Having so many bigots
Who, for a little money from the collection box
They will give you some of their chicken.
-You're bad, son.
-No, I'm worse, Father.
If you come down with me, Father
To the back of the cellar
You'll see the wine rack we have
And the best wine to taste.
First, the priest started down.
Behind, the boy.
He grabbed a chair
Breaking three of his ribs.
He grabbed a club
Knocking off his mustache.
He tore his member out by the roots
And gave it to a bat
Which carried it by the beak
To the Hermitage of the Sovereign Virgin.
In the Archbishopric
After a while
Without any news of him
Presuming he was missing
They reported that perhaps
He had left as a missionary
To El Petén in the Republic of Guatemala
Up to his tricks on Flores Island
And Santa Elena de la Cruz.
Jesus moved into the town of Samaria
for he left Judea to head for Galilee
but his route took him to this town
for this was where God wanted him to be
Having heard all that Jesus told her
she left the water jar for a new direction
telling others of this Jesus she had met
she knew the compulsive power of a new affection
This Samaritan woman had a holy boldness
as the disciples did when they left their nets
when Jesus called them to follow him
as God's will was to go in His steps
This woman's testimony was to tell of Jesus
who told her all that she ever did
she may not have even known His name
but Jesus knew her and why he came
Having met Jesus she wanted more
more of Jesus and more she got
for this woman pleaded with Jesus
a missionary was her call as she sought
(John 4: 1-54)