Donna Sue Poetry


Posted on by Donna Sue





The weathered old Virgin statue,

Next to the garden stairs,

Stands in silent witness to

So many whispered prayers.

Wrapped up in frozen stillness

As sleet is raining down,

Icicles form around her like

An icy winter gown.

 The arctic winds and frigid cold,

The worst this year has seen,

Blast frosty crystal snowflakes on

Our placid holy Queen.

She stands there in the frozen yard

A statue all alone,

On this first day of winter,

In ice cold concrete stone.


Donna Sue Berry

December 21st, 2013 


Posted on by Donna Sue

Tree soldier



Alone again at Christmas

Her soldier gone to war

She feels the sting of helpless tears

Just like she did before.

She wonders where he’s at tonight

In bunk or sandy hole

Just wishing she could hold him tight

To warm her aching soul.

While the Christmas lights are blinking

Her thoughts are far away

Can’t help the fear that grips her heart

This time on Christmas Day.

She curls into his favorite shirt

Wrapped round her like a glove

She smiles at thoughts that bring him near

And memories of love.

Please bring my Soldier home she prays

Then switches off the light

And slips into a peaceful dream

 Of him this Christmas night.

Donna Sue Berry

November 8th, 2013


Posted on by Donna Sue




O littl boy of Bethlehem

Asleep in Mary’s arms

Tonight you sleep the sleep of peace

No fear this night of harm


Wrapped up in love with Mother’s kiss

Her lips upon your brow

Your new bright eyes look trustingly

As shepherds stoop to bow.


O Child of Love and Prince of Peace

We hear the angels sing

This is the night of peace on earth

Behold our newborn King!


Donna Sue Berry

November 10th, 2013




Posted on by Donna Sue

The Nativity Set.jpeg













In the darkness of the closet

Where no one else could see,
There sat a hidden manger scene
My Mom had given me.

On the shelf above the linens
Pushed back and out of sight,
So I wouldn’t have to look at it
When I turned on the light.

You see, my Grandma had made it,
Poured and sculpted it by hand.
With gentleness had painted it
The reddish hue of sand.

But I didn’t like to see it,
It always made me cry.
It reminded me of Grandma
And others who had died.

Each year my Mom would set it out,
Our focus for Advent,
Not food, the gifts and toys we got,
Nor money we had spent.

The manger scene reminded us,
Throughout the Christmas season,
The Holy Child of Bethlehem,
Our Jesus was the reason.

So it sat there shelved darkness
Just hidden from my sight,
Until one of my grandchildren
Asked me late one night

“Why is Jesus in the closet?”
I looked at him surprised
As his finger pointed upward
With questions in his eyes.

I turned and looked upon the shelf,
The manger scene had moved.
No longer hidden from my eyes
But sitting in full view!

And so I looked in disbelief,
I alone knew it was there.
How on earth had it moved forward?
All I could do was stare.

Then my grandchild muttered “Angels”

And wandered off to play,

As my mouth flew open wider
At the word I’d heard him say!

So I reached into the closet,
Pulled down the manger set.
I placed it on the table top
So we should not forget.

That those who go before us,
Are never really gone,
It’s through our kids and our grandkids,
Their memories live on.

That this tiny little baby
Throughout the Christmas Season,
The Holy Child of Bethlehem,
Our Jesus is the reason!

Donna Sue Berry
November 8th, 2009


Posted on by Donna Sue

As His Child

It is Christmas time without you,

And I fear the silent nights,

The decorated Christmas trees,

Yards filled with Christmas lights.


This holiday I face alone,

The first without you here.

I could never have imagined,

You gone this time last year.


Stacks of Christmas cards unopened,

Pretty presents yet to give,

All the holly and the tinsel

Make this season hard to live.


But the tiny little manger,

With Jesus in the hay,

Gives me the strength to make it to

Another Christmas Day.


Donna Sue Berry

November 17th, 2013


Posted on by Donna Sue

Graveyard Rain 3

I have been here for a long time,

As you can surely see.

All friends and family dead and gone,

None left to pray for me.

If only I had known in life,

What waited past death’s door,

I would have sacrificed and prayed,

More than I had before.

I did just what I had to do,

At least that’s what I thought.

But now I see I missed the mark,

Not what the Church had taught.

These Purgatory pains are real,

The Father’s gift of grace,

A time to cleanse myself from sin,

So I can see God’s face.

My contrition was imperfect,

My heart and will so frail,

Without these cleansing holy fires,

I would end up in hell.

So if by chance you read this post,

Please say a prayer for me,

That soon my soul is spotless and

The Father’s face I see.

***** ***** *****

Donna Sue Berry

October 23rd ,2013

***** *****

Please Pray for Family and Friends,

Your folks you never knew,

Please pray for their release and peace,

It may all depend on you!

***** *****


Pope Leo XIII in his Quod Anniversarius said:

         “ 7. Therefore, since it is certain by the doctrine of the Catholic Church, that the souls detained in purgatory are benefited by the prayers of the faithful, and especially by the august Sacrifice of the Altar, We think we can give them no more useful and desirable pledge of Our love than by everywhere increasing the offering of the pure oblation of the Most Holy Sacrifice of Our Divine Mediator, for the extinction of their pain. We therefore decree, with all the necessary dispensations and indulgences, the last Sunday of next September as a day of ample expiation on which will be celebrated by Ourselves, and equally by each of Our brethren the Patriarchs, Archbishops, and Bishops, and also by other prelates exercising jurisdiction in a diocese, each in his own church, whether patriarchal, metropolitan, or cathedral, a special Mass for the Dead with the greatest solemnity possible, and according to the rite ordered in the Missal for the Commemoration of all Souls.”

***** ***** *****

        Having a Mass or Masses said for a deceased love one is the greatest gift one could ever give! Just ask a Priest, and he will be more than happy to say one or more.  Also, a Gregorian Mass series is the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass FOR ONE OF THE DECEASED FAITHFUL for thirty consecutive days. The Gregorian Mass series is a custom recognized, approved, and encouraged by the Roman Catholic Church. It was born from the practice of the faithful who desired to imitate the charity of Pope Saint Gregory the Great in favor of the monk Justus whom the Pope delivered in 590, from the fire of Purgatory, by having celebrated for him the Eucharistic Sacrifice during thirty consecutive days. This is quite a commitment for a parish Priest to undertake, and so we contact the Clear Creek Abbey in Hulburt, Oklahoma when we have a Gregorian Mass series said.

      By saying our prayers, our rosaries, or having the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass said, we can possibly relieve or help a soul in Purgatory go to Heaven today. We can only imagine the gratitude that they would have for us, and we can be assured of their prayers for both our physical and spiritual needs.  Just think, maybe the simple act of kindness such as bending over and picking up a piece paper from the floor, in reparation to our Lord for a soul in Purgatory, may get someone out. What if a single “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I love you, save souls” was all it took to relieve your Grandpa or Grandma from the purifying fires of Purgatory.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I love you. Save souls!”


Posted on by Donna Sue

Graveyard Rain framed 4



As you can surely see

All friends and family dead and gone

None left to pray for me…

***** ***** *****



***** ***** *****

Please Pray for Family and Friends

And Relatives you never knew,

Please pray for their release and peace,

For it may all depend on you!

Donna Sue Berry

October 14th, 2013


Posted on by Donna Sue

Garden Cross

Caught up in life and troubled thoughts,

I could not see the faces,

Of people whom I bumped into,

Like I was running races.

With things to do, deadlines to meet,

I didn’t need distractions,

Or condemnation for my haste,

And thoughtless, selfish actions.

Then in my ear I heard a shout,

A voice out of the blue,

“Child, stop with all your running. Stop!

I’m waiting here for you.” 

I turned but not a single soul

Was standing there by me.

Just a sign that read “I’m waiting”,

Nailed to an old oak tree.

I hurried on, but in my haste

I couldn’t help but wonder,

About the voice inside my head

That sounded just like thunder!

“STOP now! I’m waiting here for you!”

This time I turned to glare

At a little Catholic chapel,

Just beyond a garden stair.

The chapel seemed to call me,

Though no more words were said.

I crossed the pretty garden spot

Toward the church ahead.

Before me hung a wooden sign

“I’m waiting here for you.”

Why not, I thought, I’d go inside

And find myself a pew.

I stepped into the house of God,

And smelt the strong incense.

I quickly fell upon my knees,

My body going tense.

Upon the altar, standing there,

A monstrance with the Host,

I bowed before the Lord my God,

Son and the Holy Ghost!

My heart vibrated with the words,

“Been waiting here for you.”

So I told him of my many trials,

And that I loved him too.

A blanket seemed to cover me,

Of sweetest, gentle peace.

Then all the things that bothered me

Were gone and worries ceased

A tender love infused my heart,

I sat in silent prayer,

In adoration loving him,

Without a single care.

Much later as I rose to leave

My spirit all renewed,

I felt the words within my heart,

“Be waiting here for you!”

***** ***** *****

October 3rd, 2013

Donna Sue Berry

Catholic Poems from the Heart of a Red Dirt Oklahoma Girl



Posted on by Donna Sue


(Our Lady of Fatima Shrine, Bison, Oklahoma)

***** ***** ***** *****

So many years have come and gone,

Since they knelt at Mary’s feet,

Three children born of peasant folk,

Who tended to their sheep.

Some prophecies have passed their time,

But there’s a few that thrive.

Our Lady’s promises of peace,

When will that time arrive?

How should I follow her requests?

What is it I should do?

How can I help converting souls,

And get to heaven to?

I am just a simple woman,

A mother and a wife,

With a rosary in my pocket,

My safety line for life.

I pray my beads with all my heart,

Because she asked us to,

And wear her woolen scapular;

Her help to keep me true.

I offer up my daily pains

As sacrifice for souls,

That they may feel the peace of God

As only He consoles.

It’s been almost a hundred years,

The battle’s not yet won,

We must obey our Mother’s plan,

Before God’s peace will come.

***** ***** ***** *****

Donna Sue Berry

September 24th, 2013




Posted on by Donna Sue





My tears were falling once again

As I bowed my head to pray.

It wasn’t for the first time that

I ran to church today.


In the coolness of the chapel,

I sank down to my knees,

Where pain and disappointment seemed

To all but smother me.


My husband and my son were lost,

My life was torn apart.

I fell before the Lord my God

And prayed with all my heart.


I looked up to see some relics

On the wall just left of me.

When one caught my attention,

I moved closer then to see.


It was Monica of Hippo,

Wife, mother, and so saintly.

I knew her name, but not much else,

Her story only faintly.


Her husband and her son had been

Scoundrels at their best.

Her constant prayer and fasting,

Had given her no rest.


But in the end, God triumphed,

Her ceaseless prayers were heard,

Such miraculous conversions,

The two of them incurred.


Augustine soon became a saint,

Her husband too was saved.

With trust in God, I knelt back down,

And promised not to cave.


Saint Monica, please hear my prayer,

My family’s gone astray,

You once said, “Nothing’s far from God.”

And so I ask you pray.


Please help their souls, and bring me peace

Pray heaven be their end.

And as for me, I will prevail,

To be your closest friend.


With that all prayed, I left the church,

My faith in God renewed.

My heart and soul much lighter with

The grace of God imbued.


Donna Sue Berry

August 6th, 2013