Category Archives: verse

Verse -The Strong Man

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Inside the Super-Hero

He was strong. Unlike some men his size
power pulsed, constrained–there was no fat.
He stood tall. His eyes looked down on those
passing by who turned and stared, impressed.

He would smile. He joked when asked his height,
“Five feet…twenty!” Childhood awe returned
(big is best, is boss.) Authority
is imposed. The strong do what they want.

He had never been a little child–
young, but never small. Assumed adult,
he was proud to grapple, fight and hold,
lift and shoulder, carry, guard, protect.

Work was good, but work was never done.
Satisfaction was postponed. Trials like
cancer cells dividing, unrestrained,
overwhelmed him. Tasks enough to make
gods despair. Then building built decayed,
bridges fell, and wars blazed in the land
he had calmed before. He went to bed.

The world’s weight will break the strongest man.

Steven Shoemaker, Urbana, Illinois

[Published in Response, Journal of the Lutheran Society for Worship, Music and the Arts, No. 3, 1976.]

Note: Apology to Steve for re-publishing this morning as “Inside the Super-Herod. LOL. Actually, the mistaken title also seems to work.

Verse – Just a Common Man

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I’m sleeping on sheets with 2,000 thread count.
My cars and my toilets all have heated seats.

My steaks are all prime & my pies are home-made.
My wife is a beauty & loves to be laid.

My pilot, my driver, my cook and my maid
All think I’m as perfect as a boss can be.

I earned what I have the old-fashioned way:
My parents were rich and gave me a start.

They helped when I failed, and cheered when I won.
We bought all the votes in the biggest landslide
Our State ever saw–ain’t democracy great?

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 10, 2016

Robot Vacuum Cleaner

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Round, like a spaceship
Black, like the dirt it finds
Whirring, like a mix-master
Bumping into chairs, tables,
Couches, beds, walls, doors
Bouncing, spinning, random
Cleaning of rugs, hard-wood floors.
Speaking when stuck,
Full of dirt, needing to recharge.
I am needed to open paths,
Lift cords, put furniture back,
Carry to charger–spouse can
Watch Trump on TV–uncleanable.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL

Verse – Suffering Spouse

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“Go to sleep!” you insist,
But I can’t resist
Thinking of another word.
I know it’s absurd,
But my mind has just heard
A new verse aloud in my head.
So I grab for my phone
And since I’m not alone,
Turn, so light’s not in your eyes.
When it’s day, a surprise!
A new verse you will read!
“Oh great,” you say, “Just what I need…”

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 30, 2016

Verse – Hugs

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The best kind of hug you can find,
Is not from the front, but behind.
Your hands can just squeeze
Whatever they please,
That is if your friend doesn’t mind!

-Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 28, 2016

 

Verse – Cries and Whispers

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If all our time is present time to God,
our moans and screams of rage are heard not in
the quiet of primordial time, but heard
right now–just as we feel the blaze of pain
ourselves. So in cacophony of grunts,
of cries and whispers, gasps, expiring sighs,
our tiniest mew cuts through and joins the dance
of horror in the mind of God. The days
we suffer isolated from the world…
the hours of rejection, perfidy,
and lies… the minutes, seconds, that we bleed
from the real steel of surgeon, soldier…are shared.
We cry we are forsaken–our cry is heard;
Our tears run rivers down the face of God.

Steven Shoemaker, Urbana, Illinois

[Previously published in Lutheran, Presbyterian, Catholic, & ecumenical publications.]

Verse – The Last Months

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I ain’t bein’ brave…
I ain’t FIGHTIN’ CANCER…
I’m just sleepin’ at night,
an’ waking up with the sunrise
so far…

I’m livin’ each day,
sayin’ thanks
for food brought by friends,
for stories, for memories,
for jokes fresh or tired…

I ain’t livin’ by faith,
or swearin’ at God.
I’m breathin’ by day
and conked out more hours
by night…

This is still life.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 24, 2016

Verse – Great

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We will know that we are Great

When the recent refugees show love
To the ones who come here next. Who learn
Words and songs, do work we know we have
Not the will or skill to do. Who burn
Hot with hope their kids will grow to be
Women, men who welcome change, who can
Live in this free land with others, see
Room to help make all our deserts bloom.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 15, 2016

Not a poem – after my death

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After My Death

(not a poem)

Remove

wedding ring (gold),

Watch (Timex–$35)

Glasses (blended, or reading)

IPhone 6+ (right pants pocket,

or still clutched in hand)

Buck penknife (left pants pocket)

(Wallet, keys, calendar on closet

shelf by front door)

Not to fear touching dead body:

does not look human, all people

turn gray (red, yellow, black,

and white–all the same color

when blood no longer

circulates–equal at the end.)

And all go from warm to cold.

To open phone: xxxx

-Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 11, 2016

Gordon’s note: Unfortunately I couldn’t post this in its original format which included indentations. Imagine everything under the bolded print indented and looking like a ski slope \ . We’re all on that downward slope. Some know it more than others. Some deny it. Some face it.  Thank you, Steve, for the continuing honesty in the face of death. Honesty has not killed Humor or your continuing witness to an end of racism (“equal at the end”).

Verse – Dreaming I’m Awake

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When asleep I dream I am awake–
Time goes by, I learn that’s a mistake.
I hope when I die
I dream I am alive
I will take that good cake at the wake!

[Brother Dave: please bake your famous carrot cake in memory of that time I ate half of it…]

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Feb. 21, 2016