“How can we sing the Lord’s song
in a strange land?” Psalm 137:4
This is not our city
This is not our land
These are not our people
Those are not our words
Your songs are not our songs
Your food is not ours
These clothes do not fit us
Those trees have strange shapes
This water has an odd taste
This dirt is not good soil
Our families are far away
Is God still with us
– Steve Shoemaker, October 15, 2014
It may have been the National
Cathedral–it was some great pile
of stones, some high Episcopal
Church where little me was the pale
imitation of a real Priest
for the day. I could not find pants,
or robe, and that was just the least
fatal of my embarrassments.
I did not have the words to say
for Mass, for Holy Communion —
my mind had left to go and play
in some old grade school reunion.
“Just take this bread,” I said, “and eat.
Remember Jesus–have a treat!”
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, October 14, 2014
Compact, inflatable
Solar-rechargeable
Has a built-in handle
LuminAID light will float
Is semi-transparent
A very light night light
Amazon will mail it
Under twenty dollars
Apocalypse-ready
————
Headband LED
Always be hands-free
Gun or bow and arrow
Take a deer or sparrow
Do not want to be dead
Keep the family fed
Walmart Streamlight Pro Tec
Fifty bucks fifty bucks
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, October 13, 2014
“push, splash, gurgle, pull
push, splash, gurgle, pull
pull, push, splash, gurgle
pull, push, splash, gurgle
gurgle, pull, push, splash
gurgle, pull, push, splash
splash, gurgle, pull, push
splash, gurgle, pull, push”
say the waves lapping the
rocks at water’s edge
– Gordon C. Stewart, Encampment, North Shore of Lake Superior, October 8, 2014.
A Psalm of Confession
We have been at war too much.
We have been too quick on the trigger.
Our weapons factories hire lobbyists.
Our lobbyists hire congress.
No matter who is President,
the military calls the shots.
The world weeps when we arm.
Nations cry out in alarm.
Terrorists have killed thousands,
Americans have killed hundreds of thousands.
I am not a pacifist.
I believe in self-defense,
but to be just and fair
we must not drone on and on.
We must not call dead children
collateral damage.
Selah
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, October 9, 2014
Editor’s Note: Here’s a LINK to an interesting article on the history of a weapons factory.
King David
“A man after God’s own heart,”
Divinely favored, protected,
Yet violent, a killer with a stone,
Then beheading giant Goliath.
A womanizer, polygamous,
Taking beautiful Bathsheba
When her husband was away,
Then plotting his death…done.
A model King? God’s anointed?
But war-cursed when he sinned…
Ancestor with his stolen wife
Of the coming Messiah:
He never prayed to escape justice,
Always finally knew his own fault,
Sang sweetly of God’s goodness,
Confessed his stinking sins,
Suffered, lost his man-love, love-child,
Yet by grace, with grace, ruled forty years…
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 7, 2014
You take a playing card and steal
a clothes pin from the hanging bag
on the green line in the back yard.
The jack of spades looks best, you feel,
against the spokes of your old bike
and adds a clatter as you ride.
Behind you flies a pirate flag,
a decal shows the team you like
upon the bumper: the White Sox!
The squeegee horn is close at hand.
The noises really help the bike
since Dad has never fixed the brakes!
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 6, 2014
Tullamore Dew Irish Whiskey
Those brats were the best tailgate food,
And the cobbler sure lightened our mood,
But the flush on our faces,
And our staggering paces,
Proves the whiskey from Ireland was good!– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, October 2, 2014
Editor’s Note: This is the second of four pieces sent to Views from the Edge this morning. South Bend, Indiana is the home of the “Fightin’ Irish” of Notre Dame. Tailgate parties in the parking lots of football stadia have become a tradition before American football games.
they may not take you in
if you’re drunk again
even mom says get a rental
when you’re mental
dad thinks it’s funny
when you ask for money
The cleaners have a key to the lock
but you need to knock
your room has nice sheets
but you’re on the streets
You want to be cleaner
but have no shower
jobs ask for an address
but you’re homeless
– Verse by Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 2, 2014
Editor’s Note: Steve was prolific early this morning. “Home” is one of FOUR composed on his iPhone in the wee hours of the morning. He appears to have been sleepless in Urbana, without a job – he’s retired – but not homeless, showered, lying awake with his back to Nadja on clean sheets at the address they joyfully share with those in need.
Pen & Paper
Both my gizmos, as she calls them,
iPad and my precious iPhone,
are updating and recharging,
unavailable for writing,
FaceBooking, emailing, texting,
or for playing on-line Scrabble.
I have looked and found a grey pen
that writes even held upside-down.
Only one lined pad for writing
was discovered after searching
through the cabinets, closets, shelving.
When did I last try to scribble
words on paper? I lie back, then
face empty space above the line–
fingers, thumbs, want to be typing…
Will the gizmos still be waiting
when these words I will be adding
to the electronic babble?
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, September 27, 2014
Views from the Edge 