Classmates.com
By Edward S Gault
I came across
our old
yearbook
sitting in the
attic like
an
old book of
lore, telling
the
tales of the
legends we
all
thought ourselves to
be. Your
photo
stares back at
me from
the
yellowing page, back
then so
white.
I wonder how
that happened.
how
we all got
to where
we
are now: people
with three
decade
old yearbooks that
accuse us
us
of being ancient,
when we
are
the same we
were then.
Except
that so has
much happened
and
despite everything, I
became my
father
anyway all the
same, I
like
to think I
turned out
different,
that I carry
it differently
than
he did. But
maybe not.
Ask
my daughter about
about it
sometime.
Copyright©2009
Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #29
peewee casanova
by edward s. gault
always wearing those clean pressed shirts and
neckties he was a bit too familiar and
always smiling like he was on some kind of
l.s.d. trip. he had that creepy mr.
rogers air about him, making most of us
especially careful of where we
took our lunch breaks. he didn’t
even realize that we were avoiding him!
no amount of the cold shoulder bit seemed to send
the message. i knew that
if he kept up his routine, he’d be arrested
on some kind of sexual assault charge. but
no, little peewee casanova kept right on at it.
Copyright©2009
by edward s. gault
always wearing those clean pressed shirts and
neckties he was a bit too familiar and
always smiling like he was on some kind of
l.s.d. trip. he had that creepy mr.
rogers air about him, making most of us
especially careful of where we
took our lunch breaks. he didn’t
even realize that we were avoiding him!
no amount of the cold shoulder bit seemed to send
the message. i knew that
if he kept up his routine, he’d be arrested
on some kind of sexual assault charge. but
no, little peewee casanova kept right on at it.
Copyright©2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #28
Brandon
By Edward S. Gault
From the time he was five,
Brandon loved shooting guns.
His grandpa gave him his first set of pistols.
They came with caps and a sheriff’s badge.
He used to play shoot out with his friends.
His backyard was the O.K. Coral
He was the Sheriff, he had the badge
The pistols in theirs holsters
His grandpa gave him when he was five.
Later he would learn to hunt in the family’s fields
With a b.b. gun his grandpa had given him.
He shot coke cans off the fence most of the time.
His friends all joined him,
They were all too old for the O.K. Coral.
When he was fifteen- a young man now,
Too old for O.K. Coral, too good for Coke cans
His grandpa gave him his father’s shotgun
He could just about remember
Those dinners when he was five
-the Christmas he got the pistols.
There was honor coming down to him
Through his father’s shotgun.
He remembered those duck dinners,
-and how the grown ups would all talk
about a place called Saigon.
They talked about that a lot.
A little while later the duck dinners stopped.
He remembered the gun when he saw it.
-and his father cleaning it.
He like the sense of power
his Father’s gun gave him.
The power to decide what lived
-what died.
This is what he did
on the weekends and before school;
and the long summers;
Thanksgiving and winterbreaks,
-when he brought home the ducks.
Then he prepared them
The same way he had seen his father do it
As he listened to the guy on the radio talk about
Saigon and the Viet Cong.
He knew his father would be going back.
Brandon attended University in Baltimore
Joined the R.O.T.C.
He married his sweetheart Marcy.
On the way to their honeymoon in North Conway
Marcy turned the dial
To some station playing the Grateful Dead.
She had heard enough about Baghdad.
She didn’t tell him when he went,
that she was going to have a child.
She wanted him to be able to do
what he knew he had to do.
He stored the gun carefully away,
until he came back.
When he did come back,
and the honors were completed,
A gun salute given,
And they presented her with the flag
-all folded in a triangle.
She put it on the mantle.
One day she would show it to their boy, Ricky.
He would never see the gun.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
From the time he was five,
Brandon loved shooting guns.
His grandpa gave him his first set of pistols.
They came with caps and a sheriff’s badge.
He used to play shoot out with his friends.
His backyard was the O.K. Coral
He was the Sheriff, he had the badge
The pistols in theirs holsters
His grandpa gave him when he was five.
Later he would learn to hunt in the family’s fields
With a b.b. gun his grandpa had given him.
He shot coke cans off the fence most of the time.
His friends all joined him,
They were all too old for the O.K. Coral.
When he was fifteen- a young man now,
Too old for O.K. Coral, too good for Coke cans
His grandpa gave him his father’s shotgun
He could just about remember
Those dinners when he was five
-the Christmas he got the pistols.
There was honor coming down to him
Through his father’s shotgun.
He remembered those duck dinners,
-and how the grown ups would all talk
about a place called Saigon.
They talked about that a lot.
A little while later the duck dinners stopped.
He remembered the gun when he saw it.
-and his father cleaning it.
He like the sense of power
his Father’s gun gave him.
The power to decide what lived
-what died.
This is what he did
on the weekends and before school;
and the long summers;
Thanksgiving and winterbreaks,
-when he brought home the ducks.
Then he prepared them
The same way he had seen his father do it
As he listened to the guy on the radio talk about
Saigon and the Viet Cong.
He knew his father would be going back.
Brandon attended University in Baltimore
Joined the R.O.T.C.
He married his sweetheart Marcy.
On the way to their honeymoon in North Conway
Marcy turned the dial
To some station playing the Grateful Dead.
She had heard enough about Baghdad.
She didn’t tell him when he went,
that she was going to have a child.
She wanted him to be able to do
what he knew he had to do.
He stored the gun carefully away,
until he came back.
When he did come back,
and the honors were completed,
A gun salute given,
And they presented her with the flag
-all folded in a triangle.
She put it on the mantle.
One day she would show it to their boy, Ricky.
He would never see the gun.
Copyright©2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #26
Jump Rope
By Edward S. Gault
The idea of the game
Was to jump the rope
As it came to you.
A large group of kids
(practically the whole class),
Stood in a circle
As someone in the middle
Began to swing the rope around.
When the rope came to you,
Then you jumped.
The effect was this wave
That went around the circle.
It was fun.
We had been at it for two days-
Getting it down.
Getting it just right.
Making it even more fun.
A lot of kids
Wanted to be the one
In the middle
Twirling the rope around.
Everyone had to wait their turn.
Mine came on the second day.
I had completed the third round
When the whistle blew.
The teachers had seen enough of the fun
When I approached Mrs. Hahn
(who was three hundred years old
at least, and some kids swore
had played a role in the founding
of Overland Park),
She accused me of disrupting
The game of Jump rope
All the kids wanted to play.
And she didn’t think my coming
With my hands raised
Was particularly funny.
She made me stand on the yellow line
For the duration of the recess
While the other kids jumped rope.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
The idea of the game
Was to jump the rope
As it came to you.
A large group of kids
(practically the whole class),
Stood in a circle
As someone in the middle
Began to swing the rope around.
When the rope came to you,
Then you jumped.
The effect was this wave
That went around the circle.
It was fun.
We had been at it for two days-
Getting it down.
Getting it just right.
Making it even more fun.
A lot of kids
Wanted to be the one
In the middle
Twirling the rope around.
Everyone had to wait their turn.
Mine came on the second day.
I had completed the third round
When the whistle blew.
The teachers had seen enough of the fun
When I approached Mrs. Hahn
(who was three hundred years old
at least, and some kids swore
had played a role in the founding
of Overland Park),
She accused me of disrupting
The game of Jump rope
All the kids wanted to play.
And she didn’t think my coming
With my hands raised
Was particularly funny.
She made me stand on the yellow line
For the duration of the recess
While the other kids jumped rope.
Copyright©2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #24
Shooting The Turtle
By Edward S. Gault
I saw this turtle on the road.
It reminded me
Of so many of the turtles in my youth
That I picked up and took home.
I thought I might get a picture.
So, since the turtle wasn’t going anywhere
(not very fast anyway),
I attached my telephoto lens,
Then got into position
Only to be interrupted
I’m sorry sir; I can’t let you take a picture.
The officer said.
Then he cited the Patriot Act.
Copyright@2009
By Edward S. Gault
I saw this turtle on the road.
It reminded me
Of so many of the turtles in my youth
That I picked up and took home.
I thought I might get a picture.
So, since the turtle wasn’t going anywhere
(not very fast anyway),
I attached my telephoto lens,
Then got into position
Only to be interrupted
I’m sorry sir; I can’t let you take a picture.
The officer said.
Then he cited the Patriot Act.
Copyright@2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
NapoWriMo Poem #23
Administration’s Soul
By Edward S. Gault
xxxThe right
xxgOnzales
geoRge w.
xxxThe veep
xxrUmsfeld
zzzRove
xricE
Copyright2009
By Edward S. Gault
xxxThe right
xxgOnzales
geoRge w.
xxxThe veep
xxrUmsfeld
zzzRove
xricE
Copyright2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
NaPoWrimo Poem #21
making the rounds
by edward s. gault
i return to the computer
again and again;
checking my e-mail,
going to my blog to see,
if anyone may have left a comment;
then to facebook to see,
if anyone may want to chat,
or simply left a message.
nobody.
back to email.
new spam.
back to my blog.
zip.
i log off.
go brew some coffee.
then i return to the computer,
once again.
Copyright@2009
by edward s. gault
i return to the computer
again and again;
checking my e-mail,
going to my blog to see,
if anyone may have left a comment;
then to facebook to see,
if anyone may want to chat,
or simply left a message.
nobody.
back to email.
new spam.
back to my blog.
zip.
i log off.
go brew some coffee.
then i return to the computer,
once again.
Copyright@2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
NaPoWriMo #19
One Single Impression: One Word
Simply Hi
By Edward S. Gault
The minister finished
With the customary ashes to ashes.
His family and two friends gathered around
The coffin, as it was lowered into the ground.
His friends remembered how dejected
He was the last time they had seen him.
They remembered the intercom announcement
By the principal that he had died.
And how he died.
Oh God, how he died!
And alone.
Most were asking who he was.
They didn’t even know him.
Now, as dirt was being shoveled in,
The two that did, wondered why,
Maybe- just once!-more people
Couldn’t have said just one word to him
Simply, Hi.
Walking along path,
Burdened with troubles-He came!
-spoke just one word, Peace.
Copyright©2009
Simply Hi
By Edward S. Gault
The minister finished
With the customary ashes to ashes.
His family and two friends gathered around
The coffin, as it was lowered into the ground.
His friends remembered how dejected
He was the last time they had seen him.
They remembered the intercom announcement
By the principal that he had died.
And how he died.
Oh God, how he died!
And alone.
Most were asking who he was.
They didn’t even know him.
Now, as dirt was being shoveled in,
The two that did, wondered why,
Maybe- just once!-more people
Couldn’t have said just one word to him
Simply, Hi.
Walking along path,
Burdened with troubles-He came!
-spoke just one word, Peace.
Copyright©2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #18
Drawing Circles
By Edward S. Gault
Afternoon workshops were on
Making contact with the prospects and
Winning their confidence so they would
Agree to be your downline. After five
Years, and six direct distributors later- you got
Pearl-but you had to draw a lot of circles and
Leap through more circles.
A lot of miles logged.
No guarantees.
-many would drop out.
Copyright@2009
By Edward S. Gault
Afternoon workshops were on
Making contact with the prospects and
Winning their confidence so they would
Agree to be your downline. After five
Years, and six direct distributors later- you got
Pearl-but you had to draw a lot of circles and
Leap through more circles.
A lot of miles logged.
No guarantees.
-many would drop out.
Copyright@2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #17
The Trial
By Edward S. Gault
She stood before the judge
And told him how the man had
Confronted her on the sidewalk.
He had threatened to throw acid in her face
If she did not do exactly
As he told her to do.
Frightened, she ran down the street
Into a side alley,
Where she had hoped to lose him
-but he was faster.
He shoved her down,
And ripped through her clothing,
And raped her there.
She said it seemed to last for hours.
Nobody came to help her.
She looked up to the judge.
He looked to the man sitting passively
At a nearby table.
He motioned to the jury.
They deliberated, and came back
Guilty, they pronounced.
The judge then pronounced the sentence.
At that time,
The woman was taken out and stoned.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
She stood before the judge
And told him how the man had
Confronted her on the sidewalk.
He had threatened to throw acid in her face
If she did not do exactly
As he told her to do.
Frightened, she ran down the street
Into a side alley,
Where she had hoped to lose him
-but he was faster.
He shoved her down,
And ripped through her clothing,
And raped her there.
She said it seemed to last for hours.
Nobody came to help her.
She looked up to the judge.
He looked to the man sitting passively
At a nearby table.
He motioned to the jury.
They deliberated, and came back
Guilty, they pronounced.
The judge then pronounced the sentence.
At that time,
The woman was taken out and stoned.
Copyright©2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #16
The Things They Did.
By Edward S. Gault
We read about them today.
They went to work
And came home to their families.
They went out to dinner.
Went to the movies.
Took walks.
They wrote poetry.
Went camping
-and had dreams about the lake,
And the way the moon’s reflection
Looked in it.
Sometimes they had their photos taken.
Their pictures line the wall of galleries today.
They didn’t know that then though.
They were taking their family walks
-tossing their children up in the air.
They blew candles out on birthday cakes.
They dreamed of their vacation
on the beach of some foreign port.
Many just stayed home
And played in their yards.
Some had picnics in the park
Where they enjoyed the sun on their face
On such a nice day.
Then the police came one night
And took them all away.
Copyright@2009
By Edward S. Gault
We read about them today.
They went to work
And came home to their families.
They went out to dinner.
Went to the movies.
Took walks.
They wrote poetry.
Went camping
-and had dreams about the lake,
And the way the moon’s reflection
Looked in it.
Sometimes they had their photos taken.
Their pictures line the wall of galleries today.
They didn’t know that then though.
They were taking their family walks
-tossing their children up in the air.
They blew candles out on birthday cakes.
They dreamed of their vacation
on the beach of some foreign port.
Many just stayed home
And played in their yards.
Some had picnics in the park
Where they enjoyed the sun on their face
On such a nice day.
Then the police came one night
And took them all away.
Copyright@2009
Writing Blues
Poet crashing hard,
Writing verse at breakneck speed
-later, can't read lines.
Copyright 2009
Writing verse at breakneck speed
-later, can't read lines.
Copyright 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #15
Artist in the Renaissance School
By Edward S. Gault
Once there was an artist
In the renaissance school.
He painted and sculpted
He wrote poetry and prose,
He was a photographer.
He spent many hours of the day
Honing each of these disciplines
He would not sell
Until a piece was perfect.
He never sold any pieces.
This went on for years.
Decades.
The honing.
The perfecting.
By the time he was a very old man,
His home had become a gallery
Of some of the finest work in the country
-if only anyone knew of it!
But nobody did.
Eventually, he died.
His children settled his accounts
(there were many).
They sold the house.
They got rid of all the junk.
Copyright@2009
By Edward S. Gault
Once there was an artist
In the renaissance school.
He painted and sculpted
He wrote poetry and prose,
He was a photographer.
He spent many hours of the day
Honing each of these disciplines
He would not sell
Until a piece was perfect.
He never sold any pieces.
This went on for years.
Decades.
The honing.
The perfecting.
By the time he was a very old man,
His home had become a gallery
Of some of the finest work in the country
-if only anyone knew of it!
But nobody did.
Eventually, he died.
His children settled his accounts
(there were many).
They sold the house.
They got rid of all the junk.
Copyright@2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #14
Photo Story
By Edward S. Gault
A photo of two children
falling past window panes,
there are no fire escapes.
That's all I know.
Nothing of happens next:
Of how far down the pavement is
or if the fire was an accident
children playing with matches
or committed by an arsonist.
The photo was once seen
by thousands of people in the morning paper
as part of a news story.
But the book that I'm looking at
has only the photo of the two children.
Someday, I'll look up the story.
Today, I'll let the photo tell me what it can.
Copyright 2009
By Edward S. Gault
A photo of two children
falling past window panes,
there are no fire escapes.
That's all I know.
Nothing of happens next:
Of how far down the pavement is
or if the fire was an accident
children playing with matches
or committed by an arsonist.
The photo was once seen
by thousands of people in the morning paper
as part of a news story.
But the book that I'm looking at
has only the photo of the two children.
Someday, I'll look up the story.
Today, I'll let the photo tell me what it can.
Copyright 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #13
Trapping Charley
By Edward S. Gault
Charley got off his chain one night,
And went off out into the neighborhood.
We didn’t know how long
He had been gone.
When he came back,
He was not in good shape
-part of the flesh from his tale
xwas hanging off!
My mother thought someone
Had done something
To him.
Then again, they might have set the trap
Expecting to get a fox
-not a dog.
Anything was possible,
Especially in New Jersey!
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
Charley got off his chain one night,
And went off out into the neighborhood.
We didn’t know how long
He had been gone.
When he came back,
He was not in good shape
-part of the flesh from his tale
xwas hanging off!
My mother thought someone
Had done something
To him.
Then again, they might have set the trap
Expecting to get a fox
-not a dog.
Anything was possible,
Especially in New Jersey!
Copyright©2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #12- And An Easter Haiku
One Single Impression: Live Water
I am participating in National Poetry Month again this year. In addition to the daily haiku that I've somehow managed to keep up since last year, I am taking it up a notch this year and publish an additional poem for NaPoWriMo each day in April. I hope you will be able to come back and look at the NaPoWriMo poems.
Lakeside Meditation
By Edward S. Gault
Looking off across the lake
In the evening, I hold my own
Vespers. Sweet silence draws
Everything in. I'm aware only of the
Water's movement-ripples
Across the surface.
Time stands still, all of
Eternity is present. My spirit finds
Rest in peaceful solitude.
Copyright©2009
Family gathers,
Easter dinner in late noon
-lamb with mint sauce.
Copyright©2009
I am participating in National Poetry Month again this year. In addition to the daily haiku that I've somehow managed to keep up since last year, I am taking it up a notch this year and publish an additional poem for NaPoWriMo each day in April. I hope you will be able to come back and look at the NaPoWriMo poems.
Lakeside Meditation
By Edward S. Gault
Looking off across the lake
In the evening, I hold my own
Vespers. Sweet silence draws
Everything in. I'm aware only of the
Water's movement-ripples
Across the surface.
Time stands still, all of
Eternity is present. My spirit finds
Rest in peaceful solitude.
Copyright©2009
Family gathers,
Easter dinner in late noon
-lamb with mint sauce.
Copyright©2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #6
Disappearance
By Edward S. Gault
Police surrounded the group, then made
Arrests, eventually charging them with
Terrorist activity. Labeled as
Radicals, they were
Interrogated, then one night shipped to an
Offshore facility. They were kept there for
Ten months. Nobody knew
Anything of what had happened to them.
Committees eventually found
That they were innocent.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
Police surrounded the group, then made
Arrests, eventually charging them with
Terrorist activity. Labeled as
Radicals, they were
Interrogated, then one night shipped to an
Offshore facility. They were kept there for
Ten months. Nobody knew
Anything of what had happened to them.
Committees eventually found
That they were innocent.
Copyright©2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #5
Civics Lesson
By Edward S. Gault
Projects had to be
Analyzed for cost/benefit ratios.
Statistics were very important for this.
State and Federal budgets were
Totaled, then bill were drafted in the
House and Senate where they were
Examined and debated –after which the
Budget was increased to allow executive travel.
Unanimously passing, the bill became a law.
Costs were then forwarded to
Karl and Marge Tachspaer in Wichita.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
Projects had to be
Analyzed for cost/benefit ratios.
Statistics were very important for this.
State and Federal budgets were
Totaled, then bill were drafted in the
House and Senate where they were
Examined and debated –after which the
Budget was increased to allow executive travel.
Unanimously passing, the bill became a law.
Costs were then forwarded to
Karl and Marge Tachspaer in Wichita.
Copyright©2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #4
Lesson On Losers
By Edward S. Gault
Gary leaned over to
Rick in order to
Explain to him the reason why
Entitlements were wrong. The poor were
Damned losers stealing from him
Because they would not work. They needed
Incentives, not rights. When Rick
Tried to defend unions, Gary became
Enraged, called Rick a piece of
Shit, then left.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
Gary leaned over to
Rick in order to
Explain to him the reason why
Entitlements were wrong. The poor were
Damned losers stealing from him
Because they would not work. They needed
Incentives, not rights. When Rick
Tried to defend unions, Gary became
Enraged, called Rick a piece of
Shit, then left.
Copyright©2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #3
Causality
By Edward S. Gault
Reeling after nearly being run
Off the road, she yelled fuck,
And flipped the bird at the guy
Driving next to her, who hadn’t done anything.
Ripped because he was given the finger,
And as it was ninety degrees, he floored the
Gas pedal speeding into her,
Ending both of their lives.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
Reeling after nearly being run
Off the road, she yelled fuck,
And flipped the bird at the guy
Driving next to her, who hadn’t done anything.
Ripped because he was given the finger,
And as it was ninety degrees, he floored the
Gas pedal speeding into her,
Ending both of their lives.
Copyright©2009
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