Category Archives: Poetry

“Welcome, Stranger”

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– Steve Shoemaker, August  27, 2012

Nabokov wrote “The greatest human pleasure is

the memory of anticipation.”  Of course

he was Russian, and their own realized pleasures

were few and far between during his lifetime.  Whose

hopes, dreams, lusts, desires were met most the last

100 years?  Americans with all their wealth

and power?  Hardly, their remote Puritan past

is still strong enough to add guilt to pride and faith…

…

I would propose the happiest come from the south:

especially those with native, tribal family.

With expectations low and hospitality

ingrained, sharing becomes the honored way of life.

A person, family,  never looks for satiety:

the greatest pleasure is responsibility.

 

Inspiration

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Steve Shoemaker sent this in March with a note “Don’t blog this. Someone might think this actually happened….”  I can see why. He later recanted. I don’t know why. Must have happened to another guy.

This week Steve and Nadja are in Chicago celebrating their 47th Wedding Anniversary. Seemed a good time to publish this unpublished piece in honor of their wonderful relationship.

“Inspiration”

We had been married less than seven days, when we met them at the resort.

“Your wife and mine are twins,” he said, “nice smile, same size, dark hair in pony tails, green eyes…”

His wife added they had twin boys, age two, back home, New York…  We went with them to their small house (the World’s Fair was the draw).  Sex was his theme at every step:  jokes, puns, inuendoes…

In their guest bed we snuggled front to back, and whispered, “What a jerk!” but soon began the oldest dance.

Those times were so far back we had not lived together.  Orgasm for her was new and almost painful.  Groans

were held in so we would not wake the twins…

Verses – from “The Tools of Home” Series

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Another in “The Tools of Home” series by Steve Shoemaker, host of “Keepin’ the Faith” @www.will.illinois.edu/keepinthefaith.  Steve and I were preparing for an annual get together of friends when he sent this. I thought: If I don’t put these up…I might have to pick up the tab…or pay for the cab.

Verse —  “The Snow Shovel”

It’s sad to report, but you must understand:

the snow shovel only works if in your hand.

Verse —  “The Saw”

Measure twice

before you slice.

Do you think Steve needs more to do?

Verse – “The Clock”

The hand goes round

Steve stands around. 🙂

or

The more he stands around

The more his poems abound.

Getting to “the Still Point”

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Steve Shoemaker sent this Breath Prayer on March 24, 2012 during Holy Week based on Jesus’ word to another criminal hanging on the cross next to him. I waited until now to post it on Views from the Edge.

Prayers (breathing) –  8 syllables in (inhale); 8 out (exhale)

– Steve Shoemaker

Jesus Christ, Child of God, Savior: (teacher) Have mercy on me, your sister.

(brother).  (on us your siblings.)

(Have mercy on me, a sinner.)

…

Gracious God, Jesus Christ, Spirit:

Give me (us) peace, patience, joy and love.

…

Loving God, you create, sustain:

give us dreams, energy and skill.

…

Holy Spirit, Comforter, Fire:

Mold us, move us, keep us alive.

…

Mysterious Divinity:

Show us what we can know and do.

…

We have left the path, lost our way:

Forgive us, O God; set us straight.

…

Your grace and love surround us, God:

Help us be grateful, loving, kind.

…

Our life will soon be over, God:

Remember us in paradise…

I waited until now to share this prayer. It strikes me as an antidote to the onslaught of misery and hate during this campaign season. Breathing Prayer calms my soul, slows down my whirring mind, and brings it down into the heart. The ancient practices of Breath Prayer and Lectio Divina move me into the great Stillness at “the still point of the turning world”… where the dance is.

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither
from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest
nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered.
Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the
point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the
dance.

– T.S. Eliot, 1888-1965), The Four Quartets.

For more on Breath Prayer and the variety of prayer in the Christian tradition, click on this link: Ten Ways to Pray: A Short Guide to a Long History of Talking with God.

In remembrance of Leah Thomas

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Leah Thomas was an attorney at the Legal Rights Center. Born and raised in southside Chicago, Leah’s older brother had been a member of the Black Panthers. She was raised with the cry for social justice in her bones, full of faith, smiles, laughter, and steadiness, a sturdy legal advocate and “mother” to the juvenile clients she defended in Hennepin County District Court.

She fainted one morning getting her coffee at Panera Bread. Days later she was gone. The funeral was held at her African-American church in Minneapolis. As Executive Director of the Legal Rights Center and Leah’s colleague and friend, I offered the following Tribute to Leah at the funeral.

Like light

Like joy

Like sun breaking through a storm

Her laughter

Brightens the room

Breaks the ice

Fills it with peace.

…

Mama walks lightly

Amid the trials and the cares

Quick as a black panther

Steady as a turtle

She coos with the tenderness

of the turtle-dove

walks with the strength of a lion.

…

With steady hand

With sturdy faith

And clarity of mind

She laughs

And soars her craft

Through clouds and storms

To lead us on and through.

…

Like light,

Like joy,

Like sun breaking through a storm,

She laughs,

She brightens the room,

She wipes our tears

She fills us with her peace.

– Gordon C. Stewart, Legal Rights Center, Inc., Feb. 1, 2005.

A grief expressed

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How does one give expression to the depth of horror that follows the death of a son or daughter, as in the case of David’s lament for Absalom? (See sermon “Holy Tears: David, Absalom…and Us” posted here yesterday.)  Percy Bysshe Shelley expresses it in poetry.

O World! O Life! O Time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more -Oh, never more!

…

Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight:
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more -Oh, never more!

But music, the language of the soul, best expresses the cry from the depths, the prayer from the abyss for help for the helpless. In such moments of loss – and in the spiritual discipline of Good Friday reflection – I listen to “Libera Me” from Gabriel Faure’s Requiem. So soulful. So honest. Real. Vulnerable. Pleading. A primal but lovely cry, given voice from the depths by a great composer.

In Loco Parentis

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Only seniors could have cars

at Wheaton College in the ’60s.

Even though I had a job

in the next town, I had to hitch

a ride with an older classmate.

…

So we bought a ’47

hearse.  The four of us found 50

bucks, and also found a guy,

a senior, who would swear the car

was his:  the lies took us to heaven./

…

One of our rebellious Moms

made red velvet side-curtains for

the windows in the back.  Our dates

would laugh at the chrome rollers in

the floor.  No one wanted to drive..

1947 Pontiac hearse

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, August 21, 2012

Feast or Fast

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Is the Spiritual Discipline of Fasting Un-American?

“The Supper of the Lamb,” Robert Farrar Capon’s

great theological cookbook, dissed dieting,

insisting it was better far to feast, then fast.

…

But we are surrounded by ads, take-outs,

fast-FOOD!  Can we really just be drinking

plain water for a day?  Can a fast last?

…

We can remember to say Grace

(recall when a prayer was thinking

food was a gift?)  Be thankful FAST!

…

Then souls will grow, waist-lines

shrink.  It bears repeating:

we must first feast, then fast.

…

Americans

meditating,

while moving fast…

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL August 21, 2012

Steve’s poem transported me back in time to the boyhood where Grace preceded every meal. All heads were bowed. All ears were open and mouths shut before we feasted on my mother’s cooking. Many of the words my parents offered are gone, but the gift they gave us was deeper than words: the quiet, humble, reverent tone with which the prayers were uttered… on our behalf…and on behalf of those who had no food. Nothing at the feast was fast or taken for granted. “Give us this day our daily bread….”

Earbud Wires

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Verse — Earbud Wires

eaqr bud devices for the hearing impaired

pocketed pursed

tangled

intertwined

a mind of their own

…

like kite string on the ground

like an extension cord snake-pit

…

too short to reel

too short to wind around

elbow & thumb

…

too long to spool

too light to use

as a belt

…

double

redouble

tie in a knot

…

marriage can solve

entanglements

– another piece of genius by a fellow hearing impaired classmate, Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, Illinois. Thanks to Steve’s partner in life, Nadja, for the photograph of the ear buds.

 

“The Book”

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“Dump and Run,” a verse posted here yesterday about a recycling program at the University of Illinois, was inspired by a student recycling program of the University YMCA. Today Steve follows it up with another experience from his years as Executive Director at the University Y.

Verse  —  The Book

The author, Richard Powers, said he would

not sign the book he wrote because he felt

all books were sacred objects.  But, he could,

to help the campus Y, compose a note

explaining this, sign that, and we could sell

them both  at our grand charity auction.

I owned his first book (can one own a holy

thing?) and all the rest, including one

that claimed a national award.  I told

the staff I would not give them up.  We bought,

on-line, a first edition, “Mint,” and sold

it to the richest person there.  He caught

the spirit, made an altar…when he needs

a god, he lights a candle and he reads.

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL

altar candles