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
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Like Butterflies
Praying for the dream,
It's so close I can touch it!
-now to let it go.
Copyright 2009
It's so close I can touch it!
-now to let it go.
Copyright 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
Monday, April 27, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #27
The Accounting
By Edward S. Gault
We met Florenda at the Bank of America mortgage office.
She examined all of our finances-bank statements then credit checks!
This would be the second time we saw our lives laid out in raw numbers.
Copyright©2009
For More see The American Sandwich
By Edward S. Gault
We met Florenda at the Bank of America mortgage office.
She examined all of our finances-bank statements then credit checks!
This would be the second time we saw our lives laid out in raw numbers.
Copyright©2009
For More see The American Sandwich
A-mazing! (not bad for a Monday morning)
I am in a maze,
I could be the mouse or the cheese
-perhaps, I am both.
Copyright 2009
I could be the mouse or the cheese
-perhaps, I am both.
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
My Word!
Shockjock spews venom,
Norm knew he had a mission
-took gun to clinic.
Standing in doorway,
Boss said I want a word, please!
-holding the pink slips.
On hospital ward,
Old woman saw her daughter
-Said, I forgive you!
Four years of struggle,
She received her diploma,
-Congratulations!
The principal smiled at her,
she did not have the words, though.
After twenty years,
Al met his son at the gate,
-welcome home father.
Staring at the page,
Waiting for the words to come
-page simply stares back.
Copyright 2009
One Single Impression: Word
Norm knew he had a mission
-took gun to clinic.
Standing in doorway,
Boss said I want a word, please!
-holding the pink slips.
On hospital ward,
Old woman saw her daughter
-Said, I forgive you!
Four years of struggle,
She received her diploma,
-Congratulations!
The principal smiled at her,
she did not have the words, though.
After twenty years,
Al met his son at the gate,
-welcome home father.
Staring at the page,
Waiting for the words to come
-page simply stares back.
Copyright 2009
One Single Impression: Word
Saturday, April 25, 2009
NaPoWriMo Poem #25
Riverway Reverie
By Edward S. Gault
After Jessie evicted us, we found the place on the Riverway.
We took lengthy walks along the Fens, had our first child and raised her there.
I had had several photo shows, and things were fine-then came the crash.
Copyright©2009
By Edward S. Gault
After Jessie evicted us, we found the place on the Riverway.
We took lengthy walks along the Fens, had our first child and raised her there.
I had had several photo shows, and things were fine-then came the crash.
Copyright©2009
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