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Write On Magazine's Featured Poet

Aaron Schultz



Aaron Schultz

Poet from St. Petersburg, Florida


Icarus as a Model
By Aaron Schultz

Maybe,
It's more suitable
To human nature
To be like the Icarus.

Maybe,
We were not meant
To live until
Our capabilities
Have failed,
And there is nothing left
But to drool upon ourselves.

Maybe,
It's better
To fly too close to the sun,
having our wings melt,
Falling into the sea,
And fizziling out.

Maybe,
It was intended that way.

Maybe,
We were wrong.

© 1997 copyright Aaron Schultz


Gather 'Round
By Aaron Schultz


Rationalist pigs
Gather 'round,
To deny the existance
Of human imagination!
(Jack and Jill)

You scientific harpies,
Those who refuse to believe
They dream in color,
Gather 'round!
(Went up the hill)

You men of brilliant ignorance,
Who believe the right side
Is the wrong side
Gather 'round!
(To fetch a pail of water)

You domesticated humans,
With your logical minds,
Gather 'round,
For the public execution of art!
(Jack fell down)

You politicians, government officals
Who have been trying to kill creativity,
Ever since it gave birth unto itself,
Gather 'round.
(And broke his crown)

The incineration of our better half,
Is upon us,
Gather 'round,
Watch it catch aflame, and burn forever!
(And Jill came tumbling after

© 1997 copyright Aaron Schultz


Back Porches and Unpaved Alleyways
By Aaron Schultz


Glass after glass
Of that Lynchburg Lemonade stuff
Makes my head spin
And contract,
Like the heart
With a pinch of adrenline,
Beating quickly,
Like the child
Running in his bare feet
With those blue corduroys
Down the gravel street.
Two doors down,
Past the man
Who wears the black top hat
Looking elegant
Whenever he goes out.
His face sags
Like the crumpled clothes
Congregating
In a dark corner of my closet.
In the morning,
The sunlight unmasks his face,
The wrinkles
Seem to vanish
For an instant,
Showing something more
That not everyone can see,
Saying something more,
That not everyone can hear.
It's meaning verboten,
Gone and forgotten.

© 1997 copyright Aaron Schultz


My Clock Screamed
By Aaron Schultz


My clock screamed
Screamed it's ticking
In my head
Seconds went by so fast
They turned to minutes
And minutes to hours
Reminded me
Of my grandfather
With sunken eyes
And hair that reflects the sun
Who sat in his chair
Rocking his life away
Like me
In my blindness to time
I'll never die
Except
I know I'll be there
Rocking my life away
Second by second
Minute by minute
Hour by hour
Much sooner
Than I think.
© 1997 copyright Aaron Schultz



About the poet . . .


Aaron Schultz is a Poet/Writer
who currently resides in St.Petersburg, Florida.
He has been reckognized and honored multiple times by the Tampa Bay
Poetry Council as a finalist in a number of TBPC Oral Poetry
Competitions. Aaron is currently involved with the Pinellas County Center
for The Arts' Literary Arts program, and hopes one day to make a living
as a writer and be published in the New Yorker every month.


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