Record Lost

Brought in record sales,
Was floating in vast blue sky
-boss said: clean up desk.

Copyright©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

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

Gossip

Paul smiled at Mary,
Alice told Jen, Jen told Liz,
-wife divorces Paul.

Copyright 2009.

A Place To Lay One's Head

Homeless In Park
Photography: Edward S. Gault

Sleeping on the bench,
Thinking of his next bottle
-or his family.

Copyright 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