Greg Gaul
Greg Gaul Poems
"Take me out to the ball game"
that anthem of great fame,
one lyric is clearly off track-
"I don't care if I ever get back".
...
Some cold forge words to make metal musings,
hammering, stammering then scribblings.
Pounding prose, forming phrases in viscous verse,
many manner of makers, none for the worse.
...
Come enter the wild as nature's first child,
shed ancient Godly fears that could be quelled.
Leave your mind behind, your savage self mild -
feel life, land, waters where spirits are held.
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"Puppets like me, we never age,
Nor do I think I'm some sort of sage.
However, I've noticed troubles over the years,
...
This is a tale I don't expect you'll believe,
I'll start at the end, so not to deceive.
It's the strangest story you're likely to hear,
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Screams at an azure ocean
bounce back in waves to me.
Egos spill over with frustration
of wants never meant to be.
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Standing all alone in the woods;
eyes shut, I feel the lilting light.
Sun dodges needles through the crown,
beams land on my skin softly so.
...
How slow can one eat one raisin?
How slow can one go?
A towheaded toddler sits cross-legged
Amidst his playroom with a raisin pinched
...
I saw the truth lying around
Looked again, it can't be found.
Where it went when and why
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For those searching the world looking for "what"
As if their lives are some unplayed plot
For those traveling so far to find
All efforts spent, they are left behind
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Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparent's grand home
for Christmas.
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A lovely lady beguiles a luckless lad
Of unwitting others she might have had
The fairest face may be foul of heart
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Heed the owl's omen!
Peril peers all men.
As norms run afoul
now release the owl.
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Taffy and I walk together
finding golf balls in the heather.
A true friend as we slog around
a best partner so I have found.
...
My name is Spencer Byron.
My first wife Addy died tragically in 1991.
A devotee of surprise. She was so much fun.
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An aged pilgrim prostrating at the steps
of Potola Palace, to her piety I bow
My feelings long since forgotten now
...
Remember when you were born?
No you don't. Nobody does.
Some might recall year two or three.
Yet, death is a lot like birth, we think.
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Greg Gaul Biography
Retired Advertising Executive)
The Best Poem Of Greg Gaul
Born On Third Base
"Take me out to the ball game"
that anthem of great fame,
one lyric is clearly off track-
"I don't care if I ever get back".
It's the only game after all,
where the defense controls the ball.
It's so unique, so revealing,
that's what makes it so appealing.
Who could abandon a game they love,
without permission from up above?
It would take a lot to walk away,
from a game millions love to play.
True, we all want to get to home,
on the way often stranded alone.
To really score, it's what you've earned.
That's what life teaches, what we've learned.
In our culture, there's a special place
for people who are born on third base.
Fortunate ones, who thought they'd hit a triple
whose actual efforts never made a ripple.
Got in the right schools, joined the best clubs,
Mommy and Daddy cushioned all their flubs.
In their lives there was little pain,
on their parade, it never does rain.
So unaware of their illusion,
they miss the obvious conclusion.
This is how truth goes off its rails,
creates some of our societal ailes.
Here everyone should be safe, nobody out:
that's one thing America's all about.
Your team success is never under debate,
if no one gets to cross home plate.
So as we set these words to rhyme,
always respecting our nation's past time
that spawns character in those who play:
we need leaders who think this way.
The final score is always just the same,
not win or lose but how you play the game.
Greg Gaul Comments
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8/27/2026 4:12:55 AM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
