I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps it's because I've examined my conscience and written down all the terrible things I've done during the past week or two, and I know that in a few moments I get to confess my sins to the priest and be absolved. Perhaps it's because I get to relieve my soul of the burden of my sins that my gratitude just burbles forth in random stanzas of poetry.
Whatever the reason, the confession line is where a lot of my inspired poetry happens to occur. These were a couple stanzas that I came up with:
From Crib came Christ, the Crucified.
Received the world, Redeemer.
I think I liked the alliteration that occurred in those lines. Here was another sort of poem prayer:
If I find no delight in prayer,
and find great dryness in its stead,
I kiss Thy Left, Just-worthy Hand,
and meekly bow my stubborn head.
As you can see, that bit was a before-I'd-gone-too-far-examining-my-conscience poem.
Here's one right before I went into the confessional:
Enclosed in cold and human flesh,
a warmer spirit flames with heat.
The flesh, at war, yields to the soul:
the body lays at Jesus' feet.
Insensible, this human being,
shows to the world a heart of stone,
quite statue-like, yet animate.
Unworthy to be Heaven's throne!
Creator, carve away the stone,
enable me to come alive!
Allow the flesh to burn away,
and help my spirit to revive.
Here's the one that was after I came out of confession:
Glory be to Thee, Oh Christ!
Aflame am I! Love pierces through.
Absolved am I, refreshed, renewed,
once more I live for only You.
Enjoy! I think these are all random acts of poetry. Oh well. I might as well share them with everyone who wants to read them, right?