Forest River Journal: June 2008

Monday, June 30, 2008

A Paradox

She spoke for an hour
Of how the poor were lazy
-yet, they work three jobs!

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Reading Jazz at the Blue

Out of the Blue Art Gallery

Paintig of a shell
points to poet reading Jazz verse
-in bard's gallery.

Copyright 2008

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Curio Shop
By Edward Gault

On my way home late one night
I stopped to look into the window of a curio shop.
I couldn’t see much.
It was dark, except for a light in the rear
A figure entered from the back room.
At first I thought he was a staff member-
Perhaps working overtime;
But he began taking all the clocks off the back wall.
And throwing them down on the floor.
He took what looked like a baseball bat
And finished the job by smashing them to bits.
He cleared off all the shelves of the figurines
And ground them to powder with his heel.
He smashed all the cases
And pulverized all the contents
xxx-Jewelry, watches, and little picture frames
All smashed to bits.
He didn’t leave anything.
The floor was covered with debris.
He stopped to survey his work-
To make sure he hadn’t omitted a single detail.
He was close to the front of the store where I stood
xxx-just outside.
When he turned to look out, I could see his face.
It was me.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Now or Never

When she kissed me then,

I had to decide to love

-or be alone, for life.

Happy Birthday Karen!

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Going For Broke?

Looked in my pockets
For the money I would need
-found only pennies.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

One Chance, So Little Time....

You came to the gate,
Then had so little time left
-and could not come back.

Copyright 2008

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Now, Just Relax...

His fist went sailing
Right through the computer screen
-way too much coffee.

Copyright 2008

Monday, June 23, 2008

A Little Artist

Child sits on the couch,
coloring a rainbow splash
-mother's birthday card.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Melodies:The Sad, The Glad, And The Ugly.

For One Single Impression: Melody

A long time ago,
I heard a beautiful song
-it has stayed with me.

With painted faces,
Children danced in the sidewalk
-their summer revels.

Trapped in a chamber,
Gargoyles hissed their melody
-driving him insane.

Copyright 2008

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Holding On

Memory's image
From long ago still remains,
-poison to our lives.

Copyright 2008

Friday, June 20, 2008

A World In The Park

While in the sandbox

She got to build her own world

-then invited me.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

For Midwest Flood Victims-Our Thoughts Are With You

A lifetime's treasures
buried under stinking mud
-still, the memories.

Copyright 2008

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Teamwork!

A child in the park
Riding on a tricycle
-pushed by a playmate.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

A Child's Eye View Of The World

The children gather
At pool to touch a starfish
-learning from nature.

Copyright 2008

Monday, June 16, 2008

Better Things Through Chemistry?

On a school field trip,
Children had fun catching frogs
-many had one leg.

Copyright 2008

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Our Castles On Shifting Sand

For One Single Impression: Transcience or Permanence?

I built sandcastles
Then had fun watching tides come
-and take them away.

Jack worked thirty years
But the boss offshored his job
-and no pocket watch!

He travelled deserts
To find an old sign that read
-"global warming: hoax"

(apologies to Percy Shelley)

In Honor of Fathers Everywhere

But First, On Being a Father

For a very Special Daughter

Drawing the Moon
By Edward S. Gault

You came up to me
With your little red book
The one you put the stickers in,
And a crayon.
You told me that
You wanted me
To draw the moon.
So I drew a line for the horizon,
Long vertical lines became trees.
A river flowed down through them.
Then I drew stars.
Finally, I drew the moon,
And filled in the sky dark blue.
Because you wanted to see me draw,
And there would come a time
When you will not care what I can do.

For my father, Linn Gault

Childhood Window
By Edward S. Gault

In my room
There floated a balloon
Just inside the door
From the circus the day before.
In the window sill
There grew a bean plant
From a milk carton
That we planted in school.
Through the window I cold see
The swing set and the apple tree.
In the center of the yard
There was this huge tractor tire
That my father and I got from the auto shop
And painted blue.
It was my sandbox.
There was a white dog house too.
In the very back of the yard
Was my digging hole
To make mud pies,
To bury treasure,
Or to go to China.
So when school was out,
I would rush home
And continue my adventures.

For Edward Harris (1916-1993)

Edgewood Drive-In 1967
By Edward S. Gault

I can’t remember which one it was now-
Maybe Cinderella.
Or maybe Snow White.
It was the one with the elves
Or maybe it was the one
Where the birds deliver her veil.
I wasn’t watching the feature film
But kicking up the dust in the playground
Where I fell off the roundabout
And scraped my knee
I saw my grand-dad in the projection room
Where he gave me a band-aid
But I was in and out all night
Between the play ground,
The concession stand,
And the projection room;
Which had the most intrigue
For a boy of five,
With its’ big machines and alien tools.
My grand-dad had met Rock Hudson once.
But Rock Hudson didn’t get to hang out
In the projection room.
Only I could.
Then there were the greasy fries.

For H. Scott Gault (1913-1977)

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.