Long St paul Poems
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2025.2.23
Summer heat waves.
Checked on the website,
Beaurology of Melbourne weather forecasted.
The temperatures, the winds, the water and the tides.
Would be in the 30°c, calm, fine and low tides.
I somehow started to get panic,
Not because of the heat.
But more about the end of the summer is near.
Comparing to last year,
Victoria has more heat waves and sunny days.
I had so much sun tan,
Someone insisted I was from African decent.
This year, I visited Cowes Philip Island,
Warrnambool, Apollo Bay, Point Lonsdale and Lorne,
Not to forget Geelong,
As it was always there on the way.
I went to Sorrento back beach,
St Paul Lookout, Jubilee Point, Diamond Bay and Bays of Island's.
I would continue to travel,
As long as I was still able,
Until one day, I leave this place,
And go far far away.
Until then, I might see you again.
According to an ancient tradition
One can distinguish between two senses of Scripture
The literal and spiritual
The latter being subdivided into
Allegorical
Moral and
Anagogical senses
The profound concordance of the four senses
Guarantees all its richness to the living reading of Scripture in the Church
The literal sense is the meaning conveyed by the words of Scripture
And discovered byexegesis
Following the rules of sound interpretation
All other senses of Sacred Scripture are based on the literal
The spiritual sense
Thanks to the unity of Eternal God’s plan
Not only the text of Scripture
But also the realities and
Events
About which it speaks can be signs
The allegorical sense
We can acquire a more profound understanding of events
By recognizing the significance in Father Christ
Thus the crossing of the Red sea
Is a sign or type of Father Christ’s victory
And also of Christian baptism
The moral sense
Events reported in Scripture ought to lead us justly
As St. Paul says
They were written for our instruction
The anagogical sense
We can view realities and
Events in terms of their eternal significance
Leading us toward our true homeland
Thus the Church on earth is a sign of the heavenly Jerusalem
A medieval couplet summarizes the significance of the four senses
The letter speaks of deeds; Allegory to faith
The moral how to act; Anagogy our destiny
It is the task of exegetes to work
According to these rules
Toward a better understanding and
Explanation of the meaning of Sacred Scripture
In order that their research may help the Church to form firmer judgment
1232015
Deborah: the name I’ve grown into.
I am also called seeker, dreamer, believer, ever hopeful;
For I am all these things.
Helen and John, grandparents extraordinaire,
Their imprint strong upon me as though they truly were my parents.
Deborah: lover of words, of ideals, of the beautiful and the profound.
Truth, honor and integrity - these are my touchstones.
Cowardice, dishonor and mendacity - these are my fears.
Someday you may see standing in the bow of a boat,
Facing Kalvoy, Norway, island of my ancestors.
Someday you may see me walking a beach in Greece,
Barefoot, bare face turned up to the sky, daring the sun.
Someday you may see me striding the moors,
Unpretentiously holding a walking stick and wearing English wool.
Deborah: resident of St. Paul, Minnesota,
Land of 10,000 lakes, northern lights, frozen winters, hot summer nights.
Radke: the name I chose.
St. Paul urges us to practice the most basic
And powerful Christian teachings
To treat each person as part of the Body of Father Christ
St. Paul had been in jailed more than once
No wonder he urged others to be “mindful of prisoners”
As if they themselves were one of them
There are many good people in prison
Who have hurt others by their poor choices
Hard headed decisions
It is easy to judge them as “worthless” or “rotten”
But we do not know what their early lives lacked in comparison to ours
What happened in their mind
And heart to lead them astray
This perspective does not condone crimes
Deny the need for justice
However
No matter what wrongdoing someone did
Each continues to be a human being Filled with the same divine presence that inhabits us
Prisoners deserve to be treated with the basic respect
We desire for ourselves
St. Paul words echo this Gospel teaching
She tells the story with tears in her eyes: Her family's farm, largest farm in the county;
Land-granted, debt-free paradise; all they needed pay were quarterly taxes;
She tells of how one hot summer day, the wind began to blow,
Blowing away moisture-filled clouds, drying the ground into crackled layers.
She tells of bitter winter days, snow blowing back into the clouds,
Pastures dry-freezing, blasted by cold winds from the northwest.
She tells of hot winds scorching pastures; starving cattle choking on thistles;
Government agencies purchasing the remaining cow-shaped, walking skeletons;
She tells of beloved horses loaded into rail cars bound for St. Paul stock yards,
Purchased by the army for $3 a head -- 75 cents per glue-filled hoof;
She tells of scraping grit from the butter dish; scraping mud from the ice box;
Of lifting dusty scum from the milk bottles; rinsing dusty scum from mouth rags.
She tells of two years with no crops, two years of blowing dirt;
Two years with no rain, no snow; two years of diffused sunlight, beautiful sunsets;
She tells of so much electricity in the air, in the ground, running from roof to wire,
Men would wrap their hands in pieces of cloth before they touched
The handles of their cars, lest they be thrown to the ground from the static.
Her voice lowers as she tells of the day the wind finally faltered, then died away.
She tells of the day her grandfather stood on his once-proud porch,
Finally able seeing through clean, clear air, the farm he would soon no longer own.
Taxes unpaid, liens placed on farms, on equipment, on promises; 'sheriff's sale' posted;
Her tears fall as she tells of how he was forced to let it go, to give it up;
She tells of her birth, ten years later, in a migrant shack in Washington state;
She says history sealed her desperate legacy before she ever had a chance.
Because of the holiday the Lourve was closed.
Mary was impressed with the French pastry
that tasted just as good as it looked.
Horrible coffee, good chocolate & delicious thick soups.
Beautiful clothes with prohibitive prices.
We boarded the Albert Express for Switzerland
with a bottle of wine and a big bag of pastries.
Take me back to Paris, I can’t stand the fresh air and healthy people of Switzerland
Arrived in Lucerne with time to enjoy the fountains in all the squares —
they were boarded up a couple days later.
Delicious cheese fondue, murals painted on the old houses,
a quaint town for William Tell, with his bow and barefooted boy.
A Train from The Alps to Venice.
Train to Florence, Hotel Majestic,
whole city is an art Gallery.
Michelangelo square, mosaic jewelry, leather goods.
Flores Hotel in Rome, Vatican, Parthenon.
St. Paul without the walls, St. Peters in chains,
Nightclub tour of the city, Old Appian way,
Capuchin Church with all the bones...
St. Paul immersed in difficulties
Trials of various kinds
Wrote to his disciple Timothy
Must go back with Risen Jesus to Damascus
Follower the Law of Moses
Determined to fight
Every means
Even kill those regarded God’s enemies
On the way to Damascus
To arrest followers of (Father) Christ
Was blinded by mysterious light
Heard himself called by name Saul, Saul,
“Why do you persecute Me?”
Fell to the ground, asking
“Who are you?
Lord?”
“I am Jesus
Whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:3-5)
After encounter
His life changed dramatically
He received baptism to Paul
Became Apostle of the Gospel
Inwardly Transformed by Divine love
Had met in the person of Father Christ
He wrote “Life I now live, in the flesh I live by the (Eternal) Son of (Eternal) God”
Who loved me and gave Himself to me
From being a persecutor
He became a witness and a missionary
Founded Christian Community
In Asia Minor and Greece
Travelled thousands of miles among all kinds of dangers
His martyrdom is all for the love of Father Christ
Written: 2011/6242018
Poetry Form: Dramatic Monologue
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Cold winter night
Snow on the tree branches covered in white, frost on the leaves cover the covet stone streets..
People of all ages, are gathered in Rice park anxiously awaiting the winter carnival festivities to begin, parades, warm apple cider, hot cocoa delights the senses, enticing the young and old.
Rice Park is a buzz of excitement, ice sculptures meticulously carved out in the cold, the bright winter moon lights up the sky. St Paul is a city of its own, The St Paul Hotel with its glamour lights up the back round, to know St Paul is to visit its famous Rice Park.
Couples both young and old, holding hands as they are dancing in the snow, sipping on their still piping hot drink reliving their first date, stealing a passionate kiss, oh I’m sure their saying, “Never let this night end”.
Rice Park is surely a delight, do come again. I promise the winter snow will keep you in delight.
St. Paul immersed in difficulties
Trials of various kinds
Wrote to his disciple Timothy
Must go back with Risen Jesus to Damascus
Follower the Law of Moses
Determined to fight
Every means
Even kill those regarded God’s enemies
On the way to Damascus
To arrest followers of Christ
Was blinded by mysterious light
Heard himself called by name
Saul, Saul,
“Why do you persecute Me?”
Fell to the ground, asking
“Who are you, Lord?”
“I am Jesus
Whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:3-5)
After encounter
His life changed dramatically
He received baptism to Paul
Became Apostle of the Gospel
Inwardly Transformed by Divine love
Had met in the person of Jesus Christ
He wrote “Life I now live, in the flesh I live by the Son of God”
Who loved me and gave Himself to me
From being a persecutor
He became a witness and a missionary
Founded Christian Community
In Asia Minor and Greece
Travelled thousands of miles among all kinds of dangers
His martyrdom is all for the love of Christ
Our Town
Our town, where are you now, our streets are now empty of kids playing and playing hopscotch. Where is the good times we used to know?
Minneapolis used to be nice, who took it away?
Our town, all I see are ghosts..
No words, just empty stares, the sidewalks are empty of children’s laughter..
St. Paul once was so lively, now so diselent, only the cobblestone streets and empty Rice Park, the sound of trees limbs blowing lightly in the wind..
Our town needs our help, to open up our ears and talk to one another, walk up to someone and ask their name, you never know what you’ll get in return, a handshake, a smile, grab a cup of coffee, stay for awhile..
Our town is worth saving, stick around for awhile..