Edward Rogaishio

Edward Rogaishio Poems

Edward Rogaishio Biography

The author, born July 15,1931, was schooled his first two years in St. Anthony School in Worcester, Massachusetts, then was enrolled in St. Stephen School in Framingham through the Ninth Grade when he became Class President, and also, received the American Legion School Award of Distinguished Achievement. Graduating he received a scholarship to Sacred Heart High in Newton. After high school his next four years were spent in Maryknoll, the Catholic Foreign Mission Society of America where he received his BA in Philosophy which colors all his works and thinking. Though he has a happy and silly side, many of his pieces are metaphorical, metaphysical, deeply introspective and carry into the afterlife. Years later while working in the Framingham Fire Department he went to night school at Quinsigamond Community College in Worcester where he received his Associate Degree in Fire Science with Highest Honors. Writing, especially descriptive, letters, and hard hitting papers, was something at which he excelled and these were challenges he always enjoyed. While in the Fire Department where he eventually rose to the rank of Deputy Fire Chief, he became heavily involved with the Firefighters Union and originated and was the Editor of the Union Post, the firefighters’ newsletter. Being basically a shy person, in 1972 he joined Mensa, and this gave him the badly needed self-confidence to stand up to any person in any situation. He held many positions through his career with the department: Secretary of the Union, Chief Bargaining Agent for the Union, Spokesman for the five town employee groups, and the All Unions Representative to the town Special Committee on Collective Bargaining all of which demanded a great deal of writing of information, contract and research papers. He has a doggedness to learn everything possible so as to do the best possible work and attain the best possible results and this led him into being elected a Town Meeting Member and an appointment as a member of the Standing Committee on Personnel. His hard work and knowledgeable efforts won him an appointment to the Town Finance Committee, FinCom, the only working town employee ever to hold this position. As a member of FinCom he was appointed Subcommittee Chairman of all the Town Social Services and Departments. Retiring from the Fire Department after thirty-one years of service, he joined the Framingham Artists’ Guild, became an accomplished artist, served as President for nine and one half years and was Editor of the Guild’s newsletter for some twelve years. Also, he became a vice-President of the Framingham, Massachusetts sister cities group FLAME (Framingham Lomonosov Association for Mutual Exchange) paired with Lomonosov, Russia. He is the Resident Artist and Editor of FLAME’s biennial newsletter. Through contact via FLAME, and as President of the Guild at the time, he chaired an Art Cultural Exchange project between the Guild and the Lomonosov, Russian artist group, Kolorit. As Trip Master and artist, he with other artists, exhibited art works in the Japanese Pavilion of Prince Menchikov’s Palace, a favorite of Peter the Great, in Lomonosov, Russia in 1996. Throughout the years, as an artist, he has created 680 paintings and over fourteen hundred fine art prints. As an author, he has written a number of short stories and poems, become a published book author, is seeking the publishing of his second book, ‘You Can Survive and Live a Useful Life; Heart Disease, Cancer, Pemphigoid and a Shotgun’, and also, he is working on a Sci-Fi fantasy novel, ‘Books of the Crystal Lands’ illustrated with his numerous fractal paintings. He is enjoying retirement, his wife, his children and grandchildren)

The Best Poem Of Edward Rogaishio

4 Am

Grandfather struck a hard four
And woke me from a sound sleep.
Fortunately, drifting back into slumber
Was easier than most nights.
But then a poem hit,
And my brain woke, and went into high drive!

Wearily I looked at the window.
A three quarter moon was seeping in
Around the edges of the shade.
I lifted the shade and was flooded by its light.
It swept down over chimneys and roofs
Still wet from an earlier rain,
And was chasing mists rising from a ground fog
That was covering streets and yards
In secrets and mysteries.

Sleepy eyes blurringly reached across
A small square table between my bed and the wall.
My hand fumbling for pen knocked
A box of tissues onto the carpeted floor.
Glasses who knows where
I started writing on a small pad.
Inspiration flowed from the pen's tip
And even squiggled black lines
Across the table's smooth brown surface.

Enough! Enough for one night! I need sleep!
I reached for the shade.
The mists had transformed into silent ghouls
Rising from their graves.
I yanked at the shade its roller spring
Twanging in protest
Then rolled over and burrowed under blankets
While whispering, "Spirits and dead go home, go home.
Spirits and dead, go home! ".

Sleep was in the room but took its time finding me.
Finally a bright sun swept away what little sleep was left
And left me wondering when a next four AM
Would rudely shake me again into verse.
I sighed and greeted the warming sun.

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