Wednesday, April 30, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #30

File File
Reporting Complaints
by Edward S. Gault

As we were getting ready to close up,
She came in and asked all these questions.
So Jan loses it, and she reports
Him to the supervisor, who then passes it
On. Naturally, the director assumed it was me.
Lacking evidence never bothered him.
Everybody backed up management. It was
So much easier than questioning.

Copyright 2008

Well, We've come to the end of National Poetry Writing Month
(NaPoWriMo), and I had a great time withn the challenge. Also I
got to meet all kinds of people in Cyberspace doing it. If you
visited Forest River Journal and enjoyed it, I hope you'll come back.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Monday, April 28, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #28

For Writer's Island: Questionable

Place Setting
A supper on Joe's Porch 1969
by Edward S.Gault

Mike would go over to his brother, Joe's house ,
Every Sunday afternoon, and eat dinner with his family.
In the summer they would eat out on the porch.
It was probably the one halfway decent meal
Mike got to eat all week.
When he arrived that hot August day
Joe's wife, Alice, was seated in a lawn chair
At a little card table with a cutting board and colander
She would take the green beans and snow peas
From a pocket in her apron cut them up,
And put them into the colander for washing.
When she saw Mike coming up the steps,
She called for Joe to come down;
Then gathered her project, and went into the house.
The roast was almost done, all she had to do was boil the greens,
It wouldn't be long now.
Mike and Joe would sit on the porch swing.
Joe explained that his son Alex would be late.
He was at a friend's house playing street hockey;
He might even stay there and have supper.
He explained that it was fine for Alex
To be into sports and all that;
But he was not keeping his grades up.
He got a c- on his last geometry quiz.
At that point, Alice came onto the porch
With Mike's supper tray and put it down in his lap.
She said that she always tried to get the boy
Seated at the kitchen table for his home work
Each day immediately as he came in the door from school.
But keeping his mind on the task was a different subject.
He daydreamed a lot, she said as she left to get Joe's tray.
Joe said he simply did not want the boy to become an airhead.
Mike said that he didn't think that would happen.
Alex was a good kid.
Joe said it wasn't enough to be a good kid,
You had to have a diploma at least.
He didn't work his butt off at the factory
Just to have a screw up kid.
Again Mike assured Joe that Alex wouldn't be an airhead.
Joe wasn't so sure.
His wife brought in their trays, and they began to eat.
Joe went on to other subjects.
He was glad that Nixon had won,
That would show the damn liberals a thing or two!
They weren't going to dig into his pocket
For every one of their harebrained schemes.
Now they could blow the hell out of the Viet cong-
Show those radical hippies they were wrong.
Mike tried to listen, but he was having a hard time
Keeping his tray on his lap-
It kept wobbling around on him.
It was hard enough when you had to chase the peas
Around the plate, wobbly trays made it impossible.
Joe kept talking about what a damn liberal
Nixon was probably going to turn out to be.
He said to just wait and see.
He seemed to not notice Mike's tray.
If he did, it didn't seem to faze him
-it happened all the time.
Finally, Mike couldn't hold it down anymore
And it flipped out of his grasp.
The glass shattered.
The milk itself slithered across the floorboards
Followed by the tray, plate, and meal.
They descended the steps,
Scurried down the walkway,
And turned right onto the sidewalk.
They ran for several blocks-
Passing several people who didn't care,
Or even seem to notice
If so, they didn't stare.
This was the city.
It happened all the time.
Finally after several more blocks,
The roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, and peas
All came to a stop and rested.
The milk had gotten there ahead and was waiting for them.
You know, it said to the group as they all caught their breath
I think the kid is going to be an airhead.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, April 27, 2008

One Single Impression Prompt: Flowering

Flowers 1.First there was winter
Then the Lord Spaketh -Behold!
-Thousand flowers bloom.

Flowers 2. I miss her so much-
Its when I see sunflowers
that I know she lives.

Copyright 2008

NaPoWriMo #27

Tree 4 You see a fraction
Of one person at one time
-just remember that.

Copyright 2008

Undergoing MyBlogLog Verification

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Friday, April 25, 2008

NaPoWriMo #25

Tombstone Did you take your life?
The kids were teasing me, Lord.
-come to me, sweet child!

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

NaPoWriMo #24

Victory Banner Three Fell to the ground-
Licking their wounds and wishing
They hadn't chose her.

Copyright 2008

NaPoWriMo #23

Coffee Poets in cafe
drink coffee and write letters,
-so friends can leave jail.

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

NaPoWriMo #22

Sneaker 4 I didn't come in first.
I was glad just to finish,
-O what ecstasy!

Copyright 2008

Monday, April 21, 2008

The Different Sides of Color.

For One Single Impression Prompt: Color

Leaf People love Autumn,
With its' rich yellows and reds
-but leaves are dying.

Copyright. 2008

NaPoWriMo #21

Coffee I layed on the couch
Next to dead, she brought the brew
Once more, I saw life.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, April 20, 2008

NaPoWriMo #20

Books Tall wooden bookshelves,
Home to hoary old classics
-but no time to read.

Copyright 2008

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Horizon Found

'For the Writer's Island Prompt: Triumph

Rock_climber Each handhold was small-
Climbing, an eternal struggle.
O the horizon!

Copyright 2008

NaPoWriMo #19

Happy Patriots Day Everyone!

Liberty Bell Lexington farmers
Face the British Regulars
-liberty's blood flows.

Copyright 2008

Friday, April 18, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poems #18

These Haikus are in honor of the 100th anniversary of the opening of the Paul Revere House
as a Museum on April 18, 1908.

Casement Window view
Garden courtyard in Spring
-sight through ancient lens.

Old forgotten slum
Recognized as a treasure,
-rises like phoenix!

Copyright 2008

Thursday, April 17, 2008

NaPoWriMo #17

Administration Policy
By Edward S. Gault

Files are are required, it is an important part of
Serious allegations will be investigated. All
Complaints will be recorded and filed.
It is important for us to maintain morale.
Security is also a priority.
Maintaining excellence is what stockholders expect.

Copyright 2008

Flying High

For the Writer's Island Prompt: Flight

Airplane Last Flight
by Edward S. Gault

It had to have been around eleven
When my my father came in
And told me that grandpa had died.
He was only sixty-three,
So it didn't seem possible.
The shock disabled my tear ducts.
Images began to come-
The quilt work landscapes I would see
From the window of his little piper plane,
As I helped him to steer it
Over the horizon.
He would not need a plane
To see those things now.
When I came back, I saw the blurred image
Of my white knuckled hands
Pulling at the bed frame.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #16

A slightly older one and two new haiku

Skyline Closing Time
By Edward S. Gault

My children came out and told me
That you wouldn't take their money.
You told them you were closing.
I can appreciate that you want to get home;
And we did come late.
The streets were confusing and we got lost.
The people that we asked for directions of
Said they didn't know.
(Also they didn't seem to care).
So here we are.
We are leaving very early tomorrow morning.
And it will be a long ride home.
The children don't get to go on these vacations often.
In, fact, this is their first time out of the state.
We waited until they were just the right age.
We had to save a long time for this trip.
So we just wanted them to see it.
It wouldn't take very much time at all;
And it would have meant so much
For them to be able say they had seen this.
Its not like we can come back another day.
When I was their age, my own father brought me here
Your Rangers told the most wonderful stories
They made the history come alive
In a way my own teachers never could.
And my sister and I even got our picture taken
In one of your colonial costumes.
These memories are why we are bringing them now.
So Please mister, won't you let them in, just for a minute.
They'll be right out, I promise!
Just for a minute.

6/29/08-Two Haiku:

They found him sprawled out
On a city park bench, dead

-heaven's doorway.

I remember you
the way you looked walking out
-and I hear the slam.

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #15

Family Road Trip Little girl's puppet
Goes with her on long car trip
-her very best friend.

Copyright 2008

Haikus Can Be So Taxing!!

Man sits at table,
Gnashing teeth and sweating pales
-One minute to twelve!

IRS Agent Man slouches at chair,
Pistol to temple and crying
-next time, TurboTax!

Copyright 2008

Monday, April 14, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #14

What If
By Edward S. Gault

What if there comes a time
when there is no war.
Even the youngest victim of war today,
will be a senior citizen with only the faintest memory
Of what was like.
If they remember at all.
There will be museums with the old guns and tanks.
People will pass by,
asking why?

What if there comes a time
When there is no poverty.
Everyone living will have a place to call home,
A place to sleep
And something to eat.
There will be pictures of homeless people in museums,
exhibits will display their 7-11 cups
And the thin gray blankets issued to them out of charity
By church and civic groups driving by
Never asking why?

What if there comes a time
When people are seen for who they are.
No one will remember when people
Lived in separate neighborhoods
Because they were black or white
Rich or poor.
When better jobs were given to men.
Words like nigger and bitch will have to be looked up.
Hoary old scholars will debate their meaning;
Because people in that time will not understand
These terms in the same way that we do.
People would see the old WHITES ONLY signs and Klan robes
On display in museums and not understand.
Passing by.
Asking why?

What if there comes a time when every child is included?
There will be no labels in the school.
No names on the playground,
-every child would be accepted there.
Homes would be places
Where they would feel wanted and safe.
They might hear accounts from their great grandparents
Of the beatings and neglect, but these would be
dismissed simply as myths,
Told by very old people.
Visitors to museums will be able to view the old video clips
Of preachers and politicans talk about Family Values.
In exhibit cases there be the tattered old green shirts of the Promise Keepers,
Photos of the Million Man March.
They would not understand the issues.
They would wonder, then pass by.
Asking why?

What if there was a time
When AIDS and Cancer were things of the past?
There would still be colds and fevers,
But people would be able to get the care they needed.
Cost would not be an issue.
Surgery might still need to be done in some cases.
And when it was necessary, small children would have a teddy bear
In their room to hug,
When times were scary.
But there wouldn't be many scary times.
Senior Citizens might talk of the old plagues,
Most would simply ask "Did it really happen"?
They would see the old quilts and ribbons in exhibit cases.
Pass by.
wonder why?

What if there came a time
When the wounds of the earh would heal?
What used to be parking lots and strip malls
Are not remembered.
In there place are parks and lush botanical gardens.
Archaeologists will excavate the ancient mounds
And meticulously sort through what used to be Levitt Town.
It will be slim pickings-so scholars will publish papers
Speculating on what might have been
The scope and magnitude of the waste.
A ranger will lead her tour up to the mesa.
She will point to the remains of the skyscrapers
reaching out of the water like someone drowning.
She explains that there are not many of these old structures remaining.
That the ruins could be found all over the world.
They are the wonders of the ancient world.
She will discount the U.F.O. theories.
"There was land here at one time" she tells them" but we don't know when".
What if there comes a time.
What if.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Someone At The Door?

For the SpeakWritePoem Prompt: Speaking Out

Ear Many people cry,
but they don't talk about it
-the police might hear.

Copyright 2008

The Power Of Women's Voices

This is in response to the prompt: Women's Voices
For Protestpoems.Org

Candle Her sister in jail,
she wrote letters, lit candles
-and began singing.

Copyright 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #13

Two poets recite,
One uses the podium
-the other dances.

Copyright 2008

(I have to confess to being the one who uses the podium; no value judgements here.)

For The Glory Of It!

For the Prompt: Glory
For OneSingleImpression

Two different ways to look at the subject.

Just for you:
1. Always having lost,
I was surprised when he fell
-and I could pin him!

Copyright 2008

And from last year:
2. Tyrants talk,
As troops march across a border
-children cry many tears.

Copyright 11/16/2007

Saturday, April 12, 2008

NaPoWriMo #12

ClockGrandfather clock chimes
As time moves ever onward
-persistent grind.

Copyright 2008

Friday, April 11, 2008

NaPoWriMo Poem #11

The Reprimand
by Edward S. Gault

As Benny and I were putting our bikes away
In that late afternoon,
(thirty...what?..six years ago?)
You came into the garage reprimanding us.
You were very angry.
Your face was contorted-
With blood vessels bulging out from your temples,
I had never seen you so mad.
You were yelling at your son,
But you were looking at me too.
Your eyes told me that you wanted to hit someone
-And you just might.
What ever you said, you were probably right.
All I can say is touche.
But sir, that is all I can remember of you.
That day.
Your face.

Copyright 2008

Now, On The Subject Of Aunts.....

For Read Write Poem Prompt on Aunts

Aunt Aunt Kristen
By Edward S. Gault

According to the family lore,
Aunt Kristen (six years my senior) announced
At the Thanksgiving table
That she didn’t like raisins.
I immediately stated that I too
Hated raisins.
Now Aunt Kristen did like raisins-
She simply wasn’t in the mood
For them at that time.
Up to that time,
I had liked raisins quite a bit.
But being the impressionable young lad
I then was, her statement
And my reiteration of it
Must have taken hold in my mind
Even at the neurological level.
From that time onward
I have never enjoyed raisins.
All these years later,
As the bills come each month
And pile up the way they do-
Far outstripping my ability
To pay any of them-
I wonder why Aunt Kristen
Could not simply have announced
At the Thanksgiving table
That she was going to be a millionaire
By the age of twenty.

Copyright 2008