This Book Needs a Title

This Book Needs a Title

by Theodore Ficklestein

Hardcover

$28.99
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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781481746663
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 04/29/2013
Pages: 240
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.69(d)

Read an Excerpt

This Book Needs A Title


By Theodore Ficklestein

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Theodore Ficklestein
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4667-0


Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

      Beginning

    Oh joy.
    Here it is.
    The start of something new.
    Fun for me.
    And fun for you.
    As long as you know what to do.

    Come on in.
    Come on in.
    For a ride through my mind.
    You will love what's on the inside.
    From love to death to all in between.
    If you don't know by now.
    Once you're done you'll know what I mean.


      Syllabus

    What is this?
    This paper doesn't look familiar to me.
    I never saw this before.

    This paper has the word assignment on it.
    Not sure what the hell that could mean.

    What kind of paper goes through requirements I need?
    That is an odd thing to include.

    It goes through some sort of grading rubric also.
    Why would I give myself an A?
    It makes no sense.

    What the heck can this paper be?
    When did I get it?
    And why do I need it?

    Oh I know what this is.
    It's the syllabus for class.


      450 Boxes

    450 boxes need to be made today.
    And it's my job to complete it.
    Oh joy.
    This will be fun.

    There.
    Ten are complete.
    Twenty.
    That was easy.
    Fifty.
    One hundred.
    This isn't as bad as I thought.

    Two hundred.
    Okay I am now getting the hang of this and making some
      progress.
    What did you say?
    Did you say you needed 900 boxes made?
    One the other hand I think I've done enough for today.


      Religion

    A son asked his father of his religion.
    What he believes in and where he is from.
    His father took a deep breath.
    The questioning has begun.

    "If you were born a Muslim.
    You would be a Muslim too."
    "Really?" The son asked.
    "Yes I'm afraid it's true."

    "If you were born a Jew.
    You would be a Jew too."
    "Really?" The son asked.
    "Yes I'm afraid it's true."

    "If you were born a Catholic.
    You would be a Catholic too."
    "Really?" The son asked.
    "Yes I'm afraid it's true."

    "So what religion am I?"
    The son asked through and through.
    "What you believe my son.
    Is completely up to you."


      One Rule

    There is only one rule for us all to follow on this earth.
    Treat others the way you would like to be treated.
    Is it that hard to follow?
    Apparently.
    We seem to have a hard time with it.
    Good thing there aren't two rules or we would really be
      sunk.


      Failing Poetry Class

    Do you think Emily Dickinson failed poetry class?
    When the teacher graded the students do you think
      Robert Frost received the lowest letter?
    Is it possible Edgar Allan Poe was reluctant to read his
      poem with the rest of the class?
    Anyway I failed a poetry class.
    Yeah. I know how bad that sounds.
    A poet failing a poetry class.
    I misinterpreted some poems I'll probably never read
      again.
    It went something like "I came to a fork in the road and I
      took the road less traveled."
    Which could be why I got an F.
    Nevermore.
    Nevermore.
    Damn.
    It's hard to call myself a poet if I can't pass a class on it.


      A Little Secret

    Want to know a little secret?
    Something no one will ever say.
    Poetry is actually very uninteresting and there is no
      money in it.
    Wait.
    Why am I writing poetry again?


      Short Career

    Someone told me I will have a very short career as a
      poet.
    I will never publish a poem.
    Better yet a book of poetry.
    He made it clear that I would never finish one of my
      poems.
    I am glad to say I proved him wrong.


      READ THIS!

    Whoa.
    You should learn how to read because the title of this
      poem is DON'T READ THIS.
    And you read it.
    You should really get better at reading.
    Pick up a book every once and a while.
    Is it that hard to do?
    Wait a minute.
    I misspelled the title of this poem.
    I forget the DON'T.
    Sorry about that.
    You are a very good reader after all.


      A Picture Is Needed Here

    This poem would be better with a picture.
    Oh yes it would.
    You see words can only do so much here.
    This poem would be much better with a picture.
    If only I could draw.


      Here's A Design

    Someone told me my poetry book should have more
      pictures.
    So here you go.
    This was the only art I ever made in school that got any
      recognition.
    There was another picture I drew but it stunk also.
    Anyway there was a fair that year and somehow this art
      made it.
    They must have been short on selections.
    Till this day I don't get what makes this art.
    Looks like a checkerboard on drugs if you ask me.


      Lost For Words

    I
    Uh
    ...
    Um
    Am
    ...
    Uh
    ...
    Lost
    ...
    Yeah
    For
    Um
    ...
    Like
    ...
    A
    You know
    ...
    Words
    So
    ...
    ...
    ...
    Yeah
    ...
    ...
    ...
    I've got nothing.
    Good to know I write for a living.


      The Life Of A Bobblehead

    The life of a bobblehead is so very sad.
    Just standing there all day.
    Staring at the room.
    With the same facial expression.
    And if it's lucky it gets situated near an unopened box to
      stay clear from the dust.
    Its happiest days are when a person takes the bobblehead
      and shakes it.
    Which is actually quite painful for the bobblehead.
    If a bobblehead could grimace it would when you shake it.
    The life of a bobblehead is just so very sad.


      Hero

    He didn't look much like a hero.
    They never do.

    He had a subtle manner to him.
    Nothing too intimidating or even appealing.

    His walk was one of a man who has been through a lot.
    Too much.

    When I was down and out.
    He lent me a hand.

    Gave me the courage I didn't know I had.
    Spoke words that still echo in my head.

    The man I knew.
    The hero by my side.

    Taught me how to bring goodness to this world and carry
      myself properly.
    Among many other life lessons that I try to teach to you.

    He didn't look much like a hero.
    They never do.


      My Friend The Cricket

    My friend the cricket and I spend all the time together.
    We play games like peek a boo and sing songs.
    I even show it off to my other friends.
    I once had to stop my mom from using a book to smash
      my friend the cricket.
    The book was a short stories collection by Ernest
    Hemingway.
    Neither my mom nor I have ever read it.
    My friend the cricket makes noise with its feet that is
      music to my ears.
    That is until I need to sleep.
    It's hard to get some shut eye with a cricket in the room.
    Now where is that Hemingway book?


      Why I Collect Baseball Cards

    I'm not much of a baseball fan.
    Never really cared for it.
    It's too slow for me.
    I can watch a three hour movie and the game can still be
      in the fifth inning.
    It's America past time because it's past its time in the
      spotlight.
    Recently I found a bunch of baseball cards in the closet
      downstairs.
    They were okay to look at.
    I've seen better pictures.
    I remember a story I once heard of how young boys
      would collect baseball cards as an obsession.
    They would know the player's batting average,
      birthplace.
    Everything.
    The cards would be a nice memory of that.
    It'd be a nice way to keep the past with me.
    Plus I hear they're worth quite a lot today.


      Gamble On This

    I bet you this poem is included in this book.

    How much do you want to wager?
    Five dollars?
    Ten dollars?
    Twenty?
    A hundred?!

    Okay let's make it fifty.
    Fifty dollars that this poem will be included in the book I
      am writing.

    Ha! I win!

    What else do you want to bet on?
    Maybe we can bet on how many pages are in this book?

    This will be fun.


      Mr. Carol

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Let's all give a cheer.
    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Is no longer here.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Had nowhere to go.
    So he sold ten of his toes.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Life was not so grand.
    So he sold both of his hands.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Hurt by all of life's woes.
    Decided to sell his very own nose.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Let's all give a cheer.
    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Is no longer here.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    What a silly dear.
    When down on his luck he sold his ears.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Never was a bright guy.
    The fool went and sold his eyes.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Let's all give a cheer.
    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Is no longer here.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    The man was quite insane.
    One day he went and sold his brain.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Was really on a roll.
    So he gave away his very own soul.

    And that is when Mr. Carol sold all.
    Of whom he was and all of these things.
    There is nothing left of Mr. Carol.
    Besides this song we sing.

    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Let's all give a cheer.
    Mr. Carol! Mr. Carol!
    Is no longer here.


      Show Me The Light

    One night a downtrodden man struggled to find his way
      down an empty road.
    It appeared that life got the best of him.
    He pushed himself as far as he could until he collapsed
      on his knees.
    He screamed aloud.
    "Oh god! Show me the light!"
    Then out of nowhere a man in a suit gave him a device.
    One he had no seen before.
    "Here it is.
    Use this to do anything.
    Look at how it lights up."
    The man in the suit pointed ahead.
    "Use this to go there."
    All of a sudden a street of billboards and lights appeared
      in the same direction the man was pointing.
    "Here is the light."
    The man in the suit repeated.
    The downtrodden man stood up and responded to the
      confusion of the situation.
    "Ah yeah. That's not what I meant.
    I mean. I was using a figure of speech."


      Can I Go Now?

    Can I go now?
    There is really boring.

    Can I go now?
    I am almost snoring.

    Can I go now?
    This is really sad.

    Can I go now?
    This is out of hand.

    Can I go now?
    Are we almost done?

    Can I go now?
    This is no longer fun.

    Can I go now?
    Oh I may?
    On second though I think I'll stay.


      Dark Stuff

    Wow that was a dark poem.
    Was it just me or was that imagery just disturbing?
    No person can write that and be sane.
    That was so gruesome.
    So twisted.
    So wrong.
    I think I'll read that again.


      Your Playlist

    You don't like The Beatles?
    Is that possible?
    Okay how about Led Zeppelin?
    No way.
    Are you serious?
    Please tell me you like Beethoven.
    Wow.
    You got issues.
    What do you listen to then?
    Yeah.
    I don't know who that is.


      Numbered Lines

    1:1 I got a new thing I am doing when I write.
    1:2 I am numbering the lines.
    1:3 That way when people read this they will know
      exactly what line I wrote what on.
    1:4 What?
    1:5 Not a good idea?
    1:6 Oh I see.
    1:7 The writers of The Bible can do it, but I can't.
    1:8 I wasn't aware organization was something only
      Catholics did.


      No Need To Buy

    You do not have to buy anything in this world to be
      happy.
    What will more clothes really give you?
    Or more cars?
    Or more stuff?
    Nothing but the illusion of happiness.
    Do not buy anything if given the choice.
    Well besides land and air.
    They are not making more anytime soon.


      Fell

    So you fell and are down on your luck.
    Get over it.
    Don't complain.
    Or sulk about what happened.
    Or make excuses.
    Move on.
    Seriously what are you supposed to do?
    Stop?
    Practically speaking you have to move on.
    You have no choice.
    So I suggest doing so.
    Sooner rather than later.


      This Poem Is Written

    My editor was not a fan of this idea.
    I mean me writing in every book that gets printed.
    It would be quite exhausting.
    But if you want to write your own poem here then by all
      means do so.
    Okay.
    I lied.
    I don't have an editor.


      Bilingual Poem

    "Can I have a bilingual poem?"
    I heard you ask.
    Here you go.
    Translate this and then go kiss my ...
    Oh I'm sorry let me translate that for you.


      Happy Anniversary

    This is my anniversary poem.
    The one that celebrates how long this book has been out.
    You know what?
    Maybe I should get this published before writing this one.


      That Poem

    That poem inspired me to be a better person.
    That poem's descriptive language made me feel like I
      was there.
    That poem was so funny I fell off my chair.
    That poem really hit home what life is really like.
    That poem had metaphors that blew my mind.
    This poem has none of that.

(Continues...)


Excerpted from This Book Needs A Title by Theodore Ficklestein. Copyright © 2013 by Theodore Ficklestein. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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