Verse – The NRA versus the Librarians

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I tie some extra large
fruit juice tin cans to trees
in my orchard. The range
where police guns practice
is not very far from
my home. The officers
used their pistols and from
30 feet made some holes
the size of dimes in cans.
Shot cans wave in the wind
and keep away the birds
and thieves who think I’m armed.

No guns for me — instead
I will just use my head…

(Don’t fret, we know that thieves
won’t read this. Reading is too
effete, takes too much effort.
All thieves are lazy — so they’re thieves. Some gun owners are crazy — ban guns.
Let LIBRARIANS judge who can check out guns to hunt or use at ranges!)

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 18, 2016

April 15, 2016

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Am I Dying? [written 2014]

Well, certainly sometime…
but I mean, am I dying soon?
like before my next birthday…
or even before I get to make love again…
(and these days, at my advanced age,
that might well be AFTER my next b- day),
and is that a good sign, or a bad sign?

Energy is low, even after I stopped my statins,
(which one of my five M.D.s says increases
an elderly male’s risk of a heart attack)
–btw, having 5 Docs is certainly a sign
of one’s impending demise.

All of my doctors are younger than I am.
Two of my doctors are younger
than my youngest child.
The ages given of the newly dead
in my local paper’s obits are half
older, half younger than I am, usually.

I am writing more verses than ever,
but fewer sonnets–am I preferring
free verse because it is faster?
Am I desperate to say what I have to say
before I can no longer think or speak?

There are times now I can no longer
see the grid of streets (as if from above)
in my home town. I make more wrong turns.
My dreams are more memorable than
many conversations. Nightmares
are more frequent–nightSTALLIONS
chase me till the dawn.

If death is like sleep, will I ever
really rest in peace?

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

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.

I’ll giggle tomorrow!

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colonoscopy-s2-why-is-colonoscopy-doneAlthough Norman Cousins makes the case that humor is good for one’s health, it’s hard to giggle preparing today for a routine colonoscopy!

I’ll giggle tomorrow after they give me the happy sedative and assure me everything’s come out all right.

Written in response to The Daily Post‘s invitation to write something on the word ‘giggle’.

  • Gordon C. Stewart, April 13, 2016

Not verse, worse

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6 skills I retain after 11 treatments of Chemo:

1. Putting on or taking off a turtleneck without losing the toothpick in my mouth.

2. Driving a car with my knees under the steering wheel. (On private farm property. Chemo pain meds keep me off public roads.)

3. Sleeping in any position: prone, supine, curled, sitting.

4. Writing light verse, and sometimes poetry.

5. Helping folks laugh.

6. Praying.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 13, 2016

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

Cathédrale Saint-Nazaire de Béziers (Dennis Aubrey)

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Once again Dennis Aubrey’s writing and photography on Via Lucis Photography of Religious Architecture offers a rare jewell worthy of wider circulation.

Dennis Aubrey's avatar

Beziers has fallen!
They’re dead.
Clerks, women, children:
No quarter.

They killed Christians too.
I rode out,
I couldn’t see nor hear a living creature.
I saw Simon de Montefort.
His beard glistened in the sun.

They killed seven thousand people!
Seven thousand souls who sought sanctuary
In St. Madeline’s.
The steps of the altar were wet with blood.
The church echoed with their cries.

Guiraut Riquier, troubadour (Translated by Martin Best)

In 1130, the master builder Gervais built a Romanesque cathedral in the thriving episcopal town of Béziers. Built eighty years before Notre Dame de Paris, it had a comparable nave height as that Gothic masterpiece and was 50 meters long. Evidence given at the time indicates that it was a truly remarkable structure but it lasted only 79 years. The Cathedral of Saint Nazaire was burnt to the ground on July 22, 1209.

We went to Béziers in…

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Verse – When to Stop Praying

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No kneeling after knee replacement,
But can still sit and bow my head–
So not yet

Prayers unanswered for another:
Disease, decline, and death–
But not yet

Aged, depressed, diminished,
But want to see tomorrow’s sunrise–
Still not yet

But when cancer has taken body and mind,
Life is lifeless, no pleasures are left:
Please pray for my peace, not my life.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 2

Donald Trump Has Ended His Candidacy

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INTRODUCTION: Views from the Edge posted this piece on April Fools Day, 2016. Perhaps something like this will happen at the presidential town hall meeting tonight.

Orange hair and rude speech are colorful. When a presidential candidate speaks off the cuff in street language, he’s colorful. Like the class clown in junior high school, he’s entertaining. In class, or under the big tent of the three ring circus, the clown captures everyone’s attention. You never know what he’ll do next. He’s colorful.

But sometimes clowns go too far; they push the boundaries of propriety. When a clown offends the crowd, he becomes not only colorful but odoriferous, and nothing can empty a room like an offensive odor. When a clown pretending to be a world leader, wise and substantive, declares that women who have abortions should be punished, but he’s not yet sure how, everyone in the crowd – pro-life and pro-choice alike – is offended by the flatulence.

Today Donald Trump announced the end of his campaign for the GOP nomination. Speaking from the steps of the State Capitol in Madison, WI this morning at 8:30, he took off his “Make America Great Again” hat, brushed back his orange hair, put on his New York Yankees hat, puckered his lips, and declared he never wanted to be president. He just wanted to shake things up. “I’m a businessman,” he said. “The Presidency is for liars and Losers!”

Happy April Fools Day!

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, April 1, 2016