The best coaches in sports are all teachers,
Although some it’s true also are preachers,
But the one that we fear
And try not to go near
Is the coach that consistently screeches.
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Feb. 19, 2015
(Still Embarrassing the Kids)
At our age the sex is best
AFTER a long night of rest.
– Steve Shoemaker, Feb. 17, 2015
NOTE from Gordon from Key West, Florida:
Key West Rooster
Years ago an 80 year old resident of the retirement facility next door informed me that he made no appointments before 9:00 a.m. Morning was the only time he and his wife had “energy” for each other. After a long night’s rest, he greeted the morning with cheerful hope that this could be the day.
just a muslim scimitar
but no single star in sight
clouds obscure the rest of sky
three so young are killed by hate
trusting they opened their door
though they’d seen his gun before
today’s dawn they will not see
moonlike from behind the clouds
they observe us as we cry
– Steve Shoemaker, Feb. 15, 2015
Each month the Playboy magazine
would come in a brown envelope.
I was in Seminary then
and Hefner sent it free to keep
the clergy up on all his thoughts
(he called it his philosophy.)
The stories actually had plots,
some jokes were good, but I would see
the women first, the centerfold,
the air-brushed flawless, pale white skin.
Penthouse and Hustler were more bold,
showed pink as if it were a sin,
but Sports Illustrated was best
(because bikinis revealed less.)
– Steve Shoemaker, Feb. 12, 2014
Remember before the great internet fail,
We all were connected, each head to a tail,
But then that world virus
Began to excite us
To chew one another by texts and email.
Our data was stolen, our passwords were known,
Our bank accounts empty, our credit had flown
Out into cyberspace.
Now the whole human race
Starts in again fighting just over a bone.
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL , Feb, 11, 2015
Parakeets
(Budgies to you Aussies)
From Down Under
Now they chatter
To bird lovers
Everywhere
In and out of
Cages flying
Chatting chirping
Pretty bird
Green and yellow
Happy fellow
Shakes a feather
Talks to you
Sits on finger
Lampshade shoulder
Scolds then perches
On your head
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Feb. 7, 2015
When I Was a Grad Student
The lowest legal wage
was all I made
as part-time teller
in a city bank.
No teller could receive
a tip–if paid
the cameras would see,
you know… “Your back
pocket. The cash you stole!”
At end of day
your balance true would not
be evidence
of innocence no matter
what you’d say.
My wife made ten times
what I did, and hence
in 1968 she applied for
a credit card. No way–
she was not head
of our household. At Field’s
she tried once more:
a woman manager
was brave and said
the card could be in her
own name. My wife
was a real person, too,
with her own life…
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Feb. 5, 2015
Editor’s Note: Steve was a student at McCormick Seminary in Chicago. Nadja was a research scientist at Northwestern.
Below is a “Fib” – shorthand for a Fibonacci – explained HERE on The Poetry Foundation website.
The number of syllables in each line of the “The Concert Goers” should be 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, and 34. Unfortunately this blog post does not permit the 34 syllable line to be read as a single line. Let your eyes do the trick of combining the last two lines into one.
The Concert Goers
O
the
joyful
harmonies
whose orchestras and
choristers draw longing, lonely
specks of stardust to the hall to join as one to hear
the yet-to-be-voiced dots and lines and signs played and sung by drums, piano,
clarinets, piccolos, triangle, timpani, trumpets, sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses to the magic of the Maestro’s baton!
– Gordon C. Stewart, Feb. 4, 2015
Lake Murray Symphony Orchestra
At first when they paired-off, the dog and cat
would fight when they got home from work. His bark
was silent almost the whole day, and that
made the young Irish wolfhound want to speak
so badly he would arf and yowl when she
came through the door. The tabby, though had heard
enough already, thank you, from the three
cats and five dogs in her small lab, and would
soon scratch at him “Can’t you leave me alone?!”
Their love made them negotiate, in time:
he gave her thirty minutes to wind down,
and then would softly smooth her fur… When tame,
she’d purr, and they would share their different days:
his reading, her solving squabbles between
the strange and varied, feisty animals
at work. Neither the dog nor cat was mean
at heart. There didn’t have to be a spat
each day…even between a dog and cat.
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Jan. 30, 2015
Our old cat never comes when we call.
She sits regal and won’t move at all,
But if we don’t kowtow
To her every meow,
She will stomp all four paws down the hall.
– Steve Shoemaker, Jan. 29, 2015
Views from the Edge 