Thursday, January 31, 2008

Ah, The Morning Grind!

Coffee Coffee mates
By Edward S. Gault

First thing in the morning
I get out of bed and straight to the bathroom.
Then it‘s time to start on the coffee.
Many mornings my daughter wants to help-
So I go to the crib and get her out
I go through the whole procedure
Of grinding the beans and brewing them
-One handed, as she inspects the work;
Always wanting to reach
Into the bag, to get one bean
And drops it into the grinder,
Like a little Juanita Valdez
-And I’m her burro.
My wife says we’re coffee mates.
After my shower, I’m running late as usual
My wife pours coffee
Into both the travel mug and thermos
It should be just about enough
She complains that I don’t
Leave her enough first generation coffee
And that I overfill the tank
Spilling water all over the place.
On my way out, I grab a tie off the rack
And stuff it into my jacket pocket,
So that I can put it on
-once I am on the T.
I grab the books
Due at the library two days ago
(These fines are really cutting
Into the coffee budget!)
My daughter sets my shoes before me.
They’re half her size at twenty months,
Still, she manages to pick them up
And carry them over
And watches as I struggle to get them on
Without actually bending over
To untie them (In under 10 seconds).
I fly down the stairs, and then look up to see
My wife is holding her
as she opens and closes her hand.
When I get to the station
I realize-
I forgot the travel mug.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Give Me A Break!

Coffee 2 Between working shifts,
A couple of coffee shots
-restores life and soul.

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Monday, January 28, 2008

Take This Job and...

Bosses Office The Boss Speaks
by Edward S. Gault

You tell me
That you've worked
Your fingers to the bone.
I haven't worked you
Near hard enough.
You wouldn't have
Any bones left in your hand.
Then I could let you go
There is after all
A budget you know.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, January 27, 2008

You Only Live Once.

Coffee 2 Boston's Sunday Globe
World events unfold on couch
-with rich black coffee

Copyright 2008

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Friday, January 25, 2008

So Much For Nostalgia

A long time ago,
We thought we knew each other
-yet we never did.

Copyright 2008

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Back To Nature

The Charles River flows
Into the Boston harbor
-in and out of ice.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Coffee Bean #5

Coffee Item: Two independent news organizations have published studies stating that the Bush administration had lied hundreds of times in the period leading up to the Iraq War.

I am a registered Republican, but quite frankly I hope this will end the 28 year romance the American people have had with the G.O.P.( Yes, we had Clinton there in the the middle,but you could hardly call him a Democrat). We need more balance now, not only between the political parties themselves but between the branches of government: the executive branch needs to shed its power, the legislative branch needs to take more of a leadership role, and Judicial branch needs have more liberal judges(or be more centered). We also need to rethink the greed, bring the jobs back stateside, and rebuild the middle class. Oh yes! and by the way, we also need to bring the troops back from Iraq and give to them as much assistance medically and otherwise to successfully integrate back into their communities.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

The Long Haul

Have you ever been on a trip where you got a little too much of a particular type of person?

Laura 1993
by Edward S. Gault

Laura was eating from this bag
Of prunes she had
All during the three hour trip.
Considering the bus's air conditioner
Was fritzed out, it would be a long trip.
She explained to me,
(between prunes)
that the bible guaranteed-
It was a sound fact,
She assured me-
that the blood of the lamb
Had washed away all of my sins.
If I would only accept His death as my salvation
(she offered me a prune-
I declined).
She went on to say
That when the Anti-Christ came
The world was going to Perish
For all its' sin-especially abortion.
After all, she said, The Lord commanded
Be fruitful and multiply
And all we did was to kill babies.
She went on this way
For the whole three hours.
I offered her up as my penance.

Copyright 2008

Monday, January 21, 2008

Sunday, January 20, 2008

In Memory Of All Those Who Were Killed In Lynchings

Fire 3 This Poem honors the victims of lynchings in the U.S, from the Reconstruction right up to,
more recently, Mathew Shepard. More broadly it honors the victims of injustice everywhere
and anytime.

by Edward S. Gault

One night, years ago, I had dream.
I was walking along a narrow path.
It had been abandoned, stones were strewn about,
And thorny branches arched across the way.
As darkness descended upon me
It hovered like a pall
-so black I could barely see my hand
Or discern the outlines of trees.
I frequently tripped or fell.
And it was humid, heat bore down.
Any other night would have offered
The comfort of a breeze.
I could feel the tension,
The steady rise of apprehension.
And fear.
Lost, I walked for hours
In this Wilderness of Zin.
Finally, I saw a spark in the distance,
It flickered like a lantern.
In no hurry, I settled down to rest
-aching body and sweat pouring.
No beacon of hope, still it flickered on
At least a constant.
I reflected upon a myth a colleague had discussed
In which the Fallen Angels, denied bodies in Paradise,
Scoured the surface of the temporal realm
In search of carcasses to patch together.
I resumed my walk toward the flicker
-until it became a campfire.
It was then that I heard the scream
Cutting through that pall of night.
A man was sobbing, wrenching
Then a gunshot pounded through the air.
Then there was a long silence.
I couldn't move, my feet were welded to the ground
-and piss ran down my calf.
The fire crackled on
-and the reverie broke.
I inched toward the clearing,
-now the heat and the stench were one.
I could see a man lying by the fire;
eyes gouged, teeth kicked in, head blown half away.
Three robed figures looked down
Upon their Magnum Opus.
The unholy had come to collect.

I felt my face drop
As two of them removed their hoods,
To reveal the rotted heads of canine corpses
All stitched together.
Their eyes, as black marbles,
glazed over with a dull opaque film.

Sensing that I had overstayed my welcome
In this den of hell, I tried to position back-
Leaves rustled, twigs cracked.
One of those things turned its good eye to me,
And raised its musket.
I darted through the forest,
out through the field,
And onto a dirt road.
It was by now, pitch black.
I could only hear the approaching hoofbeats.
I looked back to see the figures, on horseback, bearing torches.
I ran down the road
And saw out of the corner of my eye
A burning cross.

Copyright 1993, 2008

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Friday, January 18, 2008

In Winter We Live

Walk in bitter cold
stings the face and fingertips
-yet we feel alive.

Copyright 2008

Thursday, January 17, 2008

The Ebb and Flow of Friendship

Bread Sometimes people move out of our lives, and lose touch.
But people are moving into our lives too. The challenge is to allow the new folks in while maintaining the older ties if we can. I wonder though if Providence doesn't move people when we have given and taught each other all that we could? The break provides us each a chance to grow more in the lives of others.

A lifetime has passed
When you went, another came
-new cycle begins.

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Not Your Typical Gas Station Map.

In the 17th century, long before we had plasma t.v. sets to hang on the wall, wealthy people would frame maps. A good one was expensive, and therefore a status symbol.

An ancient map framed
Supported by ribboned string
-A rich man's world view.

Copyright 2008

In Search Of The Enduring Friendship

Coffee 2 I've been thinking lately about what makes friendships last. For all the talk about stresses and strains, what gets overlooked is the choice that people make to become, and continue to be, friends. It isn't simply the good times shared and tribulations endured-once camp ends, or after graduation, every one begins a new journey. Over time a new heritage is established, a heritage with new friends and no place for the old ones from childhood; unless a choice was made and a commitment was assiduously kept to. I have doubts about reconnecting through the typical school reunion (or Classmates.Com) and starting where we left off as if no time intervened. That would imply that there hadn't been any growth. No matter how immature some people were in school, some change does transpire.
Pick up where we left off? I don't think so.

It was long ago
Since we broke bread together
-wasting it laughing.

Copyright 2008

Monday, January 14, 2008

Got Those End Of The Weekend Blues?

On Mondays, how organised can you possibly be?

Pocket stuffed with pens,
glasses hang from the outside
-now where are my notes?

Copyright 2008

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Watch out!

Bear Remember that Chinese Curse "May you live through Changing times!"?

The Dow Jones plunges -
Champagne and Caviar wait
For bulls to return

Copyright 2008

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Rain, Rain, go away!

Snow Day What? don't tell me that you've had too much snow.

January rains
Wash away previous snow,
-now let's have some more!

Copyright 2008

Friday, January 11, 2008

In Tribute to Patricia Fillingham (1923-2007)

This is a tribute to someone, who in addition to being a fine poet, was also a good friend of ours.

By Edward S. Gault

It’s always when I get on the computer,
That you jump up into my lap.
Before I can even get the screen up,
Papa, I want smileys
So I tell you
As I have often told you
That the smileys are on their way-
They’re in their cars now,
And driving to our house.
Maybe they’re just stuck in traffic.
At long last (finally!) the screen does come up,
And I move the arrow over to
The yellow smile on the toolbar and click the mouse
And the box comes up with all your smileys.
I want the Kitty smileys, Papa.
I go to the animal section of the box and click it with the mouse
And all the cat smileys come up
And we scroll down to the bottom
To see every last one
(For the umpteenth ging quin killionth time);
Then there are the puppy smileys,
The bird smileys,
The fish smileys.
We go through them all
(Yes, umpteen ging quin killion times)
Like touring a virtual cartoon zoo.
I want the monkey smileys, Papa
But I thought you didn’t like the monkey smileys!?
Yet we see them anyway
I want the elephant smileys, Papa
I bring them up
I want the big elephants, Papa
How are we going to get a big elephant out of the computer?
Through the door, Papa
And you pointed to the smiley box on the screen
You remembered the story that I read to you on Christmas
About the girl who brought home the elephant
To grow up in her house*
We watch together as the little yellow smiley climbs up onto the elephant
And slides down its trunk, over and over again
Ging quin killion times.

*Anna’s Elephant by Patricia Fillingham.

Copyright 2008

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Paul Revere's Ride (The Short Version).

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Poem The Midnight Ride Of Paul Revere was 130 lines long.
Kudos! It was certainly a Ripping Yarn. Had Longfellow been Japanese, he might have written it in haiku form, something like this:

Revere rides express
To warn minutemen-"Turn out!
Regulars march forth!"

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

How Much Is that Doggie In The...Bathtub?

Can you remember your first pet?

Poodle in bathtub
Looking out beyond the rim
-to see if we see

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Justice Served?

Sometime, if you ever want another kind of day off, spend it at the county courthouse. It could be very educational.

by Edward S. Gault

The lawyer was silhouetted against the light
From the window behind the judge.
I remember him hoisting his file cabinet size briefcase
Upon the table in front of him,
A burly hand gripping the handle-
It was a big hand.
"I represent landlords in their claims
against tenants" he said.
I could not see his face.
Just the hand and that big briefcase.
A woman stood at the bar-
A little girl in tow, her hair held back
With a heart barrette.
She explained that she had lost her job,
But that she was doing everything
She could to pay the rent.
She said that she even sold her car
To pay the landlord what she owed him.
She said this a number of times at the trial.
But she didn't have cabinet size briefcase.
She had small delicate hands
And a soft voice.
Soft voices weren't being heard
In court that day.

Copyright 2008

Monday, January 7, 2008

Monday Again?!

Ever feel like you're not quite ready to go back into work?

A Crack In The Day
by Edward S. Gault

What would happen,
I wonder,
If one could take a hammer and a chisel
And put a crack in the day?
Just like that.
What would happen?
Would it bleed?
Would there be storms-
Birds falling from the air?
Would any of us have a prayer?
Or would anyone really care?

Copyright 2008

Sunday, January 6, 2008

A New Year, New Starts.

Have you ever wanted to be a whole new person?

Behind sunglasses
She hides the past, and her pain
-now Reno is home.

Copyright 2008

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Look Up From Your Coffee And See The Art!

Here is a haiku for all you artists who display your works in cafes, and keep on doing so even when nobody buys your work.

Row of framed photos.
Folks drink coffee and read news,
-cafe gallery.

Copyright 2008

Friday, January 4, 2008

Reception Today

French Wine Bread And CheeseA reminder folks, today is the reception for the photo exhibition
New England: Four Seasons of Light at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education
at 42 Brattle street in Cambridge Ma. It will be from 5:30-8:00. Come and have a great time.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

How I Spent New Years Night

Coffee 2 One of my resolutions this year is to get a lot more writing done, especially poetry. My goal is to dramatically increase my poetics folder without winding up in bankruptcy court. No easy trick.
It's not always easy to find a place to write either.

How To Write Late at Night On New Year's Day

You're either reading this now
Or perhaps you're listening to me read it.
No matter.
This is how I came to write it.
It is New Years Day 2008.
According to my cell phone
The time is now 10:43 pm.
I am in the hallway of my apartment building.
I am sitting in a folding chair
wracking my brains for something to write about.
Finally I think of this-
So I am writing it.
I am looking toward the end of the hall
Where the overhead light is reflected
In the window.
There is only one light
But it is reflected, and reflected again three times
In the same pane of glass.
The hallway is painted gray.
Above the moulding, which is about two and a half feet up,
(from the floor)-
The wall is painted a light gray.
Below the moulding it is painted a darker gray.
My wife says it is green.
I don't care, It still looks gray.
I am dressed in a white t-shirt with black slacks.
I'm out here because my whole unit is dark.
My wife and daughter are asleep.
I could use the Sitting Room
But we have guests, and they are using it
As a guest bed chamber.
Therefore, the hallway is the only space
I can use as a study.
The other night, the woman next door to me
Came back late with her friend
And saw me camped out like this-
In the hallway, writing.
Needless to mention, they were astonished.
They'll probably remember it for a long time.
Maybe, forever.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

New England: Four Seasons Of Light

Today, I am installing my new photo exhibit at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education. Here is my announcement:

New England: Four Seasons of Light
An Exhibit of the Photography of Edward S. Gault
January 2-31, 2008

Reception - Jan. 4, 5:30-7:00
Cambridge Center for Adult Education
42 Brattle St.
Cambridge, Ma.

I hope to see you there if you live near by and can make it. If not I will be putting up an on-line
version of it on the Forest River Creations website, hopefully by the end of the week.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Here it is, 2008

This year I am going to be less bold. Instead of making resolutions for the whole year, I will make them on a month by month basisi and see if I don't get further that way. The other thing is , I'm not going to resolve to lose more weight, and see if I don't lose more. My resolution (monthly) will be to write more poetry.

Another year gone,
New resolutions to make,
-how many to break?

Copyright 2008