What if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s? What if all the C’s went out on strike? Tired of being seen by you and me as just average unlike the letters A and B. Now here is how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.
You begin your day with a ‘up of hot ‘offee while in your lap is your ‘urled up ‘at. Then later you ‘ould take your dog for a walk While wearing your favorite ball ‘ap to keep the sun out of your eyes Unless of ‘ourse, dark stormy ‘louds filled the sky.
On to the park where the ‘hildren and ‘anines go to play Where you li’k an i’e ‘ream ‘one bought from a man pushing a ‘art. While sitting in the park table’s ‘hair you ‘arefully observe the ‘ars Driving down the street wondering about the driver’s worries or ‘ares.
A gust of wind makes you need to retrieve your ‘ap that just blew off your head. Your hair now a mess needs ‘ombed but instead of ‘ombing it the ‘ap you wear The favorite team’s ‘ap does its job of hiding your unkempt hair. And you let your dog lead you ba’k to the house.
Ba’k inside your ‘ondominium a box of ‘andy ‘alls your name. The temptation is too hard to resist so you pi’k a ‘ho’olate that’s ‘herry filled Get a ‘up of hot ‘appu’’ino and sit on the ‘ou’h. Then into your lap jumps the ‘at and she quickly ‘urls up.
Finally, resting in his home he re’alls his manners, And remembers to remove his ‘ap, and loves on his ‘urled up ‘at. Now you know how it would be if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s Because you’ve seen how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.
Jimmie Aaron Kepler Written for my granddaughter Aurora Written during November – December 2017
Fill the Columbia blue sky,
Like hundreds of cotton balls.
Of the summer sun,
Reflected even brighter
Off of the clouds.
The clouds remain
Suspended in the sky
With little movement.
A flock of pigeons,
Land on an adjacent building.
They stand on the edge
Of the ten-story structure,
For some crumb or morsel of food.
They also eye the sky
And the roof,
Of a neighboring building.
The birds are watchful
As a red hawk
Is perched waiting,
For one of the pigeons
To let its guard down
And become his next meal.
The sounds of cars,
And an occasional motorcycle
Fill the air
As they travel
From their point of origin
To their destination
Using the freeway
Through the building’s shadow.
On a nearby corner
Looks up at the sky
Shielding her eyes
From the bright sun.
She looks to see
What the airborne commotion is about.
The sun temporarily blinds her
With its brilliance
And then she sees
Dozens of feathers
Slowly descending to the ground.
In San Francisco, it’s the summer of love,
Long-haired hippies, peace signs, and doves.
In Vietnam, the soldiers are dying,
Back home their families are crying,
And Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.
Jim wants to “Light My Fire,”
While Grace’s rabbit only flies higher.
The evening news shows the war isn’t cool,
This week I started high school,
And “All You Need Is Love” is what The Beatles say.
Written by Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Schertz, Texas, August 1967
The photos are of Grace Slick. She is an alumna of Finch College where she majored in art. She is an accomplished artist. The artwork is hers.
Note: This is the oldest poem I have written by me. It was in notebooks and papers my mother gave me a few months before she passed away in 2014. Aren’t parents great about keeping things and then later in life returning them?
I wrotethispoem as a freshman at Samuel Clemens High School in Schertz, Texas. Samuel Clemens High School was two miles outside the main gate at Randolph Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas.
Impressing, my English teacherwaschallenging. Theassignmentwas to write a paper on “What I did on my summervacation.” Instead, I wrote about whatwashappening in popularculture. Instead of prose, I wrote a poem. I failed to follow the rules. Shecalled me a “beatnik hippy poetweirdo.” I viewed her insult as a compliment! I gave in, complied with her orders, and wrote five pages of drivelavoiding a grade of “F” on the assignment. I wrote about hitchhiking to the west coast.
“I Started High School” is from the forthcoming book “Jimmie Aaron Kepler: Selected Poems” from Poet and Picker Press.