Saint Eule Poems

I remember Grandma Anna,
she lived beside the Susquehanna.
Her long coal black hair would touch the ground.
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We played upon the sand lot,
Among the broken glass.
We never got to Williamsport,
But our pitcher sure was fast.
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The children from the union came after.
The excitement and all of the laughter.
Their wiggly giggly, and childish ways.
Every achievement they do shower with praise.
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The variations in all the worldly doctrine.
Makes a persons head spin, want to take pill.
To a young person it might be quite confusing,
Jesus said, I have no Doctrine but my Fathers will.
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Once I had a dream riding on the Fred Rogers train.
Rolling through the village in the pouring rain.
He was standing there at the station in a yellow sweater.
Then out came the sun, he always dressed for the weather.
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Lest I forget to thank you, in soulfull satisfaction.
Your voice is a such a blessing, my dear Mahalia Jackson.
You always sang with deep conviction till the very end.
You expressed the greatest truth, Jesus was our friend.
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An angel is drawn to compassion, like a bee to a flower.
If you want to meet one, you must pray for an hour.

Pray for all nations, think of what is needed.
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Fearless youth, gang on the hoof.
No father for the son, generation on the run.

War in the street, cop on the beat.
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What undue gratitude has the salesman,
Flaunting his polite comments like the helmsman of a great vessel.
While all the time he is checking my pockets.
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