• Author:
• Editor: Baas, Gerald J.
• Newspaper: The Eastern Echo volume 11
• Page Number:
• Date: 09 Fall 1965
• Tags:
• poetry

Poetry

by MARY GETTINGS

Reprinted by permission of the PRISM Muncy, Pennsylvania

By chance one day I met a King Who smiled on me— An undeserving fool! No gift had I to offer in return; Not gold nor youth; Nor anything he admired.

He took me in—yes, this is true— He filled my needs— I asked for nothing more; My very life to him I felt I owed; Nor could, nor would I Leave this debt unpaid.

And so I gave this King to keep or not, The last possession I held dear to me. He has it still—I think he needs, That small untainted section of My heart.

THE PEDANT

How it irks and bothers me To hear incessant pedantry ! When he speaks, the pedant seems To reach for outer-space extremes.

He can‘t just say “good morning”’ to you, As if this all is due you, But he will stand, state, and expound “The elements’’—as seen from the ground.

He will then elaborate On world affairs ... God ... Life ... the State Your mind wanders; your ears sag. "Boy, this cat's a "%*!&%￠" drag!"

And with irritating gall, He'll try to make you hear it all. But this will draw our subject's hate: " 'Scuse me, man, I’m kinda late.’’

by J. Alexander

"THE JUVENILE DELIQUENT

What makes a juvenile delinquent? Is often asked these days; But WHY are they so remiss And so set in faulty ways?

Could it be the home life Or the schools which they attend? Or are they like they are because They lack a proper friend?

Who is there to turn to When problems come their way? As — most parents are too busy To hear what they have to say.

So they take them to the ones that know Whose problems are the same; And thus proceed —to find someone On whom to place the blame.

The gangings and the knifings Describe the loneliness they feel; Yet —their parents say they love them And —they think it isn’t real.

The corners are their hangouts; Dance hops —their meeting place; And the language that they use today Is ---- a deplorable disgrace.

We see them roam the streets in groups Like menacing thunderclouds above; When what they need is their parents at home With understanding advice and love.

Much has been said of what should be done Through the radio, TV and press: "Let’s not pamper and pity them; Put them away —with the rest.”

But to put them away “with the rest” Is like sending them to ‘‘School for Crime”’ As what they learn — may not be from books, And are tomorrows, criminals — in time.

Now let us observe the parents, Whose eyes are filled with tears, When a judge has decided to send their child Away —for many, many years.

"Where did we go wrong?” is their first cry, ‘‘We did what we thought was right” Yet —their son carried a knite and gun And he stayed out late each night.

There is no love in some of our homes As there was —in days gone by, When-—life was like a story — With no heartbreak, sob or sigh.

This problem no longer can be ignored, As it will get worse before getting better, Unless the family unites through love and prayer To hold them happily ---- TOGETHER.

by William (Turk) Baity