Lewis Eron Poems
In Gettysburg I walked
Amongst the multitude of monuments and marble markers
On Cemetery Ridge
Where bronze soldiers stand ready
And canons are aimed to meet
The gray Confederate foe
With canister and grapeshot
Rifle and bayonet.
I stood where Lincoln spoke and Picket charged
And heard a man boast to his son
“This is where we fought.”
Praying For The Sick
I'd rather write poetry than cure souls
Stringing pearls to tie my thougts in ordered rows
Than to set their fears, their dreams
As glass gems in a plate breast plate
Hanging before the two tablets of their hearts.
Now God's word comes too easy to be true.
I know too many incantations for opening hearts
And bleeding souls