Ah, the Joys of Homework!

I wrote this March 19, 1995 as part of an assignment in high school. I didn't always enjoy doing homework, but when I did, it looked something like this. Mrs. Best was my English teacher (mentioned in the poem). The French lines say, "Mrs. Best is funny, isn't she? / Homework."

Photo by motortion/Adobe Stock

Homework.
It is a compound word
Homework.
Is it absurd?
Homework.
Maybe absurd, but it is important.
Homework.
Its synonym is stress.
Homework.
Sometimes it is fun.
Homework.
Sometimes it is not.
Homework.
When will it be done?
Homework.
Am I having fun yet?
Homework.
Hey, this is neat.
Homework.
Wow!
Homework.
What is the square root of 6, divided by 35 to the eighteenth power, times the cosine of nine?
Homework.
Who was America’s fifteenth president?
Homework.
Spelled H-O-M-E-W-O-R-K
Homework.
This poem is homework
Homework.
Computers are awesome!
Homework.
Mme Best est drôle, n’est-ce pas?
Les devoirs.
What a blast!
Homework.
What?
Did you say vacation is next week?
Vacation?
Yea! No homework next week!
But after vacation,
Homework.
AH, THE JOYS OF . . .
Homework.

An Understatement

I wrote this poem February 10, 2007 in response to a sermon by our pastor on God's holiness, from 1 Peter 1.

NASA/Hubble

Awesome

Amazing
Wondrous
Wonderful
Powerful
Terrifying
They don’t even come close!

Loving
Caring
Dazzling
Holy
Wise
Just
Merciful
Our words hardly scratch the surface
of what God is.

What words can describe
God’s wondrous love for us?
How can we begin to express
His awesome holiness?

No words can adequately tell
His amazing care and mercy
That an omnipotent God would deign
To save a poor lowly sinner like me!

His power knows no bounds
Yet His love has no end
His holiness goes beyond anything
That I could even begin to imagine!
His wisdom is so much greater
Than man’s most brilliant breakthroughs
His justice fairer and more terrifying than any can fathom
His mercy and peace far beyond than all comprehension

I can do nothing before such a wonderful, terrible, awesome God
But fall down at His feet
And cry “Holy! Holy! Holy!”

His brilliance goes beyond
All the blinding starry host
Who am I that the dazzling God of the universe
Would gaze at the darkness of my soul
And shine His radiant light of forgiveness
On my unworthy blackened heart?

All of my days I will praise His wonderful name.
As the moon shines the light of the sun,
O holy God,
May my life shine Your love and holiness
On a world in need of Your grace!

Walking with Grandpa

I wrote this poem in November 2005 in honor of my grandpa's 90th birthday a couple months earlier. As we lost him nearly ten years later, I added a verse today, and also changed the fourth verse from the present tense to the past tense.

Early 80s

Grandpa was a prolific walker. He walked daily, and it was partly due to that practice that he lived so long, nearly making it to 100 (only four months short of it). He challenged us to do the same, and he typed up his walking philosophy for us. I have been working on doing that more lately.

Grandpa's Walking Philosophy

Some of my best memories of Grandpa were walking and running with him. When they visited us in the Philippines in the early 80s, he and I walked from our house to our school. It wasn't all that far, but it was a fair distance, part of that uphill. It's one of my earliest memories. A few years later, we were back in the US and he, my dad, my brother and I went to see the Seattle Sonics play the Golden State Warriors in Seattle. During the game it started pouring, and when it got out, we had to run through it to the car! We were soaked to the bone. In 1994, we went as a family to Hong Kong to teach English to students preparing for a major exam. When we were all together walking through the streets of Kowloon, the rest of us practically had to run to keep up with him, as he was a very fast walker!

He was a World War 2 veteran, and he raised a family of five children on a very tight budget. He pastored at multiple churches, and his legacy lives on around the world. He was my hero.

On we walked
My grandpa and me
Under the brilliant Philippine sun
We were walking to school
An excited little boy and his loving grandfather

On we ran
My grandpa, dad, brother and me
Under an unusually strong Seattle rain
Down the sidewalk from the basketball arena
We piled into the car, soaked.

On Grandpa walked
As we tried to keep up
Through the busy streets of Hong Kong
Grandpa at his normal walking pace
And us younger folks nearly running

On Grandpa walked
Around the block, around the mall, and through life
Leading the way, shining his light
A brilliant example of a life well lived
For his children and for God

On Grandpa dances
On the brilliant streets of gold
In the arms of his beautiful bride and his glorious Savior
His race has been run and he has heard "Well done!"
A hero for the ages

Christmas 2014
Grandpa's 100th and last Christmas
He would graduate to heaven the following May

My college graduation, 2000

The Carabao and the Storm

...or "Steven Channels His Inner Aesop"... I wrote the following poem March 29, 1995 as part of an assignment in a high school English class. This part of the assignment was to write a poetic fable. 

A carabao, also known as a water buffalo, is a bovine that is used in several Southeast Asian cultures to assist in planting rice and other farming tasks, similar to an ox in other cultures. It is pronounced "care a bow" and rhymes with cow. They are are a common sight in the Philippines, and I remember going to sleep at times to the dulcet tones of local carabao and cats having spirited conversations. ("Moooooo!" "MEOW!" "Mooooo!" "MEOW!!" They were clearly conversations, as they alternated, and I never heard them speaking at the same time.)

Philippine Carabao

Photo by Cabajar

CC BY-SA 3.0 license

Off in the distance...
Ru-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-mbl-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-e!
Thunder!
Everybody ran
Away from the flooded rice paddies
Except for one carabao
Who said, "Silly carabaos!
What chickens!
I’m staying here!
There’s work to do!
My master will be proud of me!
But who will reward those cowardly carabao?
Not me, I’m brave!
Why, I’m the bravest carabao of the lot!
Aren’t I grea----"
ZAP!
RU-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-MBL-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-E!
Next morning, all of the carabaos returned
To find a dead carabao
Lying in the slop.

Moral:
"Pride goes before destruction,
     a haughty spirit before a fall." (Proverbs 16:18)

I Should Go Back to the Sea

The beaches and coral reefs in the Philippines are breathtaking. With so many islands, if we reached a beach that had anyone on it, we could just take our bangka (rowboat with pontoons) to the next island, where the beach may be deserted. Snorkeling is amazing. They also have glass-bottom boats where you can look through the glass floor of the boats to see the beauty below. The coral, fish, and other sea life present a spectacular kaleidoscope of color. The country has around 7100 islands. As some of them are tiny, the number varies depending on the tide. (I'm not sure where exactly the below picture was taken, but it's similar to what you can see snorkeling in the Philippines.)

I wrote the following poem for an assignment in 6th grade, in 1989 or 1990. I put it on a big sheet of paper and drew sea life around it.

Underwater World
Photo by Fascinating Universe
CC BY-SA 3.0 license

I should go back to the sea, the empty, rippling sea
I should go swimming in it, the mighty wet sea
Where all the seahorses reign, the urchins and squid and octopi
All the cute little fishes and the not-so-cute sharks.

I should go back to the sea, the world of plants in the sea
I should go swimming in it, the wonderful "land" of the sea
Where the seaweed sways, the sponges and algae and anemones
All the tiny diatoms and the not-so-tiny kelp.

I should go back to the sea, the full wavy sea
I should go swimming in it, the wonderful "land" of the sea
Where the seahorses reign, the sponges and squid and anemones
All the tiny diatoms and the not-so-tiny sharks
I should go back to the sea.

Stars and Electrons

I wrote this poem March 15, 2003. I have always been fascinated and amazed by the sheer massiveness of the stars and galaxies. I was even more amazed in the introduction to chemistry in college when we learned about atoms. I had learned about them in science class previously, and I remember learning in elementary that the atoms in one grain of sand were more numerous than all the leaves on all the trees in the world. In college, our textbook said that if you were to expand an atom to the size of a football stadium, the nucleus would be the size of the period at the end of this sentence. I forget how many tons the nucleus would weigh. The electrons that orbit the nucleus are even smaller! Stars and electrons, despite their massive distance in size, both mindbogglingly gigantic and mindbogglingly microscopic, have a lot in common.

NGC 4414, a galaxy in the constellation
Coma Berenices
Image by NASA

Titanic balls of fire
Placed by God in the heavens
Mere specks in His eyes
They glow in the sky
Far larger than I can imagine

How is it that the God who is so much larger than the stars
Can care for me -
One who is a mere speck
Compared to the stars?

The stars orbit in an endless round
In their clusters and galaxies they orbit
And the God who made these galaxies
Huge beyond my imagination
Cared enough to send His only Son
To die for me!

Tiny balls of matter
Placed by God in the atoms
So much smaller than specks in our eyes
So much tinier than we could begin to imagine

Electrons orbit in an endless round
In large numbers they orbit
Around the nucleus of the atom
The atom - like a galaxy to the electron
And how many atoms are in a single cell?
Countless millions of atoms in a single grain of sand!

How is it that the God who created the unimaginably humongous galaxies
Also created the unimaginably tiny electrons?

What a wonder
That such an amazing Creator God
Could care enough
To send His only Son
To die on a cross for me!

Words @ Random

October 25, 2004, I stopped at Tully's for my morning latté on the way to work. They knew me pretty well, and I almost always ordered the same drink that we had decided to call a triple-berry latté. I don't remember if I had started asking for nonfat, no foam and no whip at that point, but they put one squirt of blackberry syrup, one squirt of raspberry, and one squirt of cherry. "Triple berry" was much less of a mouthful than having to say all that, and the baristas were familiar with it. In any case, as the machine was whirring that morning, the barista said, "Airplane." That was a bit unexpected! She was surprised to find out she had said that out loud, and explained that it occurred to her that the machine sounded like an airplane. I commented that it seemed she was saying words at random...then realized that sounded like a song title. So I told her maybe I would write a song and put it on my first album. She liked that. I wrote the song (well, poem), but I haven't recorded an album yet. Maybe someday?

[Side note: A few years later I would start counting calories and discover that daily morning lattés are not the best idea if you need to lose weight. Now I only have them occasionally, generally once or twice during pumpkin spice season. I still drink coffee, though, black.]

A project for a graphic design class
a few years after writing this poem.
I translated the poem into French
and made a poster based on the
visual poems in the Futuristic style.
"Cracked" is the title of the font.

Airplane
Miniature Schnauzer
Oh the joy of saying words at random!
Indubitably
Scrambled
What a way to chase the blues away
Just saying words at random
Meow
Anemone
People look at me like I'm strange
But what do I care?
I'm saying words at random!
Spiffy
Brazilnut
It's so fun being easily entertained!
Which leaves me just one more thing to add:
Xylophone!

---

As mentioned in the caption above, I translated the poem into French for a design project a few years later. Following is the French translation:

Mots au hasard

Avion
Schnauzer miniature
Quelle joie de dire des mots au hasard !
Indubitablement
Brouillé
Quel moyen magnifique de chasser les idées noires !
On n'a qu'à dire des mots au hasard !
Miaou
Anémone
On me regarde comme si je suis fou
Mais ça m'est égal
Je dis des mots au hasard !
Épatant
Noyer d'Amazonie
Que c'est amusant d'être facile à divertir !
Ce qui ne me laisse qu'une seule chose de plus à dire :
Xylophone !

Discombobulated

October 28, 1999, I was in college and had a shocking epiphany that I couldn't think of a single poem that used the word discombobulated. It had such poetic possibility! This could not stand! I hastened to fix that problem, and the following story of an abduction by Vikings (and other randomness) unfolded. I set the poem to a techno tune. (Note: I am proud of my Scandinavian heritage. That said, I was going more for rhymes than historical accuracy. Also of note, the first four stanzas have nothing to do with the rest of the poem, except that they rhyme.)

Ein Wikingerüberfall (A Viking Raid)
Ferdinand Leeke, 1901

Discombobulated

Uncoordinated
Unsophisticated
Discombobulated!

On the road I skated
And I rollerbladed
Discombobulated
A racket I created!

To the mob I stated
My speech right now is slated
Discombobulated
Unsophisticated

I stated and restated
Jack Sprat is underweighted
His wife is overweighted
Discombobulated!

The two were unrelated
Until the day they were mated
Her hair he daily braided
And they were both elated

Until the Vikings raided
Their house they had invaded
Their ego was deflated
And those men they hated

Their home was desecrated
Discombobulated
Their glory, it soon faded
They became outdated

Their language he translated
The verbs he conjugated
To Norway they were crated
They were unsedated

To a land they were freighted
On a great ship, gold-plated
Their happiness negated
The Vikings they berated

Their birthday cards belated
Their arrival long-awaited
Their fury unabated
The Vikings soon were jaded

Against their will they aided
And, boy, had they debated
Bibliography annotated
To them clearly dictated

Discombobulated
Their sla-ve-ry was fated
In the ground they spaded
While the Vikings recreated

They left so much unstated
The snow was underrated
And their teeth they grated
Their eyes were soon dilated

Escaped! They soon vacated
Their home was reinstated
Architecture they updated
Gothic they predated

This song is overrated
People interrelated
Discombobulated,
This song is terminated!

The Cactus

I wrote the following poem April 8, 2002 following a difficult event. (Interestingly, I don't even recall what event that was, but my younger self tells me it was seriously trying.) Working through the pain, I realized that holding onto it was just about as absurd as trying to hug a cactus. It would only hurt me further. I also thought of 1 Peter 5:6-7. I've often seen both these verses quoted in different contexts, but rarely together: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."

I also blogged about 1 Peter 5:7 a few years ago, here. It's one of my favorite verses. The lesson was further reinforced later that year, as I blogged here.

What cactus are you trying to hug? Let it go!

Photo by Cara Tracy
Used with permission

I clung to a cactus

Embraced it in my arms
And the pain ripped through my aching body!

The spines pricked my skin
The pain grew intense;
But the worse the pain, the tighter I clung!

I cried out in agony
I complained and bemoaned the pain
As I fought against the cactus
And I clung
Still tighter

Until God said,
"My child,
Give Me the cactus.
Let go of the cactus
And let Me take your pain."

And I

          let

                    go

And let God take the cactus
He took away the pain
He healed my biting wounds
And in their place, He gave me peace
And joy
My trust in Him grew stronger
All I had to do was let go of my pride
Let go of my pain
And rest in the arms of my loving heavenly Father.

Swim with the Salmon

I wrote the following poem August 7, 2002, after visiting the fish ladder at Seattle's Hiram M. Chittenden Locks. Watching through the glass as the salmon swam against the intense pressure of the water got me thinking about the similarities of salmon fighting the water pressure and us fighting temptation.

Salmon at Willamette Falls, OR
Source: NOAA Photo Library, 1950

The current rages on
Downstream with awesome force
While the salmon swim along
Upstream to spawning grounds
Against the raging current

We've got to swim with the salmon
Go against the flow
Jump up all the ladders
Go up the waterfalls

The current rages on
Down the rivers of this world
The temptation is so strong
To conform to the ways of the world
And just to go with the flow

We're called to swim with the salmon
Against the raging current
Following the Lord
Not conforming to the world

Blood Moon

I wrote this last night to commemorate the "Blood Moon" being completely blocked by the clouds. I realize that in the grand scheme of things, there are much more serious things to be worried about (such as the sinking of the Titanic exactly 102 years before I wrote this), but sometimes I like to get melodramatic and exhibit my parody skills.

This is how the Blood Moon would have looked, 

had I been able to see it. Maybe next time!

Picture from http://www.cliplip.com/cool-blood-moon/

To be sung to the tune of Rodgers and Hart's 1934 song "Blue Moon"...


Blood Moon
© Steven Sauke, April 15, 2014

Blood moon

I tried to see you tonight

I had a dream in my heart

To see th'eclipse on my own

Blood moon

You knew what I went outside for

Excitement can’t be denied, for

You’re what I looked in the sky for

And then there suddenly appeared before me

A sky full of clouds! That’s all I see.

I’d heard somebody whisper, “The moon’ll be red”

And when I looked, it was nowhere to be seen

Blood moon

Now I’m right here, all alone

Without your face smiling down

Without a moon, red or white.

Blood moon

Oh, why must you hide away?

You’re red up there, so they say

But I can’t tell! Stupid clouds!

The Finish Line

I wrote this poem back in January of 2005 in memory of our former pastor Brad Smith, who died rather suddenly from a stroke, but I thought in light of the tragedy today at the Boston Marathon, it was appropriate.

This poem makes reference to 2 Timothy 4:7-8, 1 Corinthians 9:24, Philippians 3:14 and John 14.

~~~

With a firm conviction and a strong faith
He ran the race
With all his heart, he encouraged and challenged many
To press on in the race of life
And to follow God earnestly

With a tender and steadfast love,
He was a wonderful husband to his wife,
A superb father to his children,
And a caring shepherd to his flocks.

A godly man,
He challenged us to remain in God's vine
And to pursue Him whole-heartedly
A humble yet goofy man,
He endured pie in the face and the dunking machine
And he made no secret of his disdain for lima beans.

He ran the race so as to gain the prize
And he guided many along the way
He lived his life in service to God
And sooner than anyone expected,
He triumphantly crossed the finish line.

In one stroke in time,
He finished the course
He has gained the prize
For which God called him heavenward
And in white robes and a glittering crown,
He bows before the Master.

He broke the ribbon on the finish line,
A ribbon we all must break some day
May we learn from the way he ran the race
To fix our eyes firmly on our Savior
And in His power, in His time,
We will triumphantly cross the line
And run straight into the loving arms of God.