Not Like Chocolate: A New Collection of Poems and Songs

By C.G. Schott

The poems in this volume are mostly Not Like Chocolate. They are
not sweet, although some of them arouse appetites without ever
really satisfying them completely.
They are not often soothing, although some are clearly intended
to be funny.
Some are best served with red wine, as dark chocolate can be with
great impact.
Some are light as milk chocolate, and most are more weighty than
chocolate should ever be.
All are the products of the my memories, dreams, fantasies, and
reflections.
Like most students of the poetic art, I have had many lives and
more than one job and more than one appearance to the world.
Even Kafka was a loyal and valued employee.
In short, I am a man who has worked for many years on this planet,
all the while believing that for me true reality was elsewhere. Despite
that delightful handicap, I filled these roles over the years:
Lover, Father, Husband, Scholar, Steelworker, Soldier, Spy, Professor,
Salesman Buyer, Department Store Manager, Pharmaceutical Sales
Representative, Sales Manager, Coach, Entrepreneur, Lead Guitar,
Recruiter and more.
So why not Poet?
My goal in this consuming vocation is not to dazzle with great new
revelations, but to arouse in you and in me, the joys of nostalgia
and perhaps even inspiration.
I hope you take them seriously, and enjoy them as if they were, in
fact, just like Chocolate.
C.G. Schott

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453566848

C.G. Schott

C.G. “Carl” Schott has the same qualification of many writers and poets—the most notable being an active imagination, and as years pass, a nostalgia that embellishes actual events with shades of glamour and romance. Nostalgia and embellishment also invite fantasy, longing, and humor and what better venue for these is there than poetry? Over the years, C.G. Schott has had many experiences that were indeed fantastic in retrospect, having fulfilled many roles including Husband, Father, Scholar, Ph.D., Historian, Spy, Fashion Buyer, Manager, Salesman, Recruiter, Entrepreneur, Lead Guitar, and Friend. Memories, dreams and inspirations are all around. Hopefully, his poems will reflect at least one encounter in the reader—even a single moment of existence-- and arouse in them more romantic, sweetly painful, or even humorous nostalgia. Carl lives in Tampa Florida with his wife Ilona-- the source of his most intense inspirations and fantasies through it all.

Book preview

Introduction

The poems in this volume are mostly Not Like Chocolate. They are not sweet, although some of them arouse appetites without ever really satisfying them completely.

They are not often soothing, although some are clearly intended to be funny.

Some are best served with red wine, as dark chocolate can be with great impact.

Some are light as milk chocolate, and most are more weighty than chocolate should ever be.

All are the products of the my memories, dreams, fantasies, and reflections.

Like most students of the poetic art, I have had many lives and more than one job and more than one appearance to the world. Even Kafka was a loyal and valued employee.

In short, I am a man who has worked for many years on this planet, all the while believing that for me true reality was elsewhere. Despite that delightful handicap, I filled these roles over the years:

Lover, Father, Husband, Scholar, Steelworker, Soldier, Spy, Professor, Salesman Buyer, Department Store Manager, Pharmaceutical Sales Representative, Sales Manager, Coach, Entrepreneur, Lead Guitar, Recruiter and more.

So why not Poet?

My goal in this consuming vocation is not to dazzle with great new revelations, but to arouse in you and in me, the joys of nostalgia and perhaps even inspiration.

I hope you take them seriously, and enjoy them as if they were, in fact, just like Chocolate.

C.G. Schott

Not Like Chocolate

You did not melt in my arms like chocolate.

No rolling wave lapping the shores of my heat

While love’s eddies came to a boil inside and out

The sweltering inn at Montreal’s ancient port.

You melted more like a gelato in my arms

A dessert of a far different sort

Keeping your cool as long as you could

Lying with me that night before our open fourth floor window.

And then your sighs absorbed the horns and hoofs

And your smile brightened the ceiling shadows

Cast by the street lamps outside,

And your whispers swallowed all the melodic voices

Of the French girls strolling the harbor.

28 rue de Vallieres

Our Lady of the Metro

Showed me where to look

Among the markets near Mont-Royal

To find his home standing silent and still.

At the grey Parc du Portugal

A stoned rough-bearded angel sat,

His MP-3 chanting Hallelujiah

As if to say, He is not here.

But the sun poured down like honey

On the Parc’s worn and weary gazebo

And in its glare, Leonard stood just above me in thought

A ghostly shadow behind the sheer third floor curtains.

An Inn in Alsace

The inn was rooted in a rocky cliff

Over a bubbling Alsatian stream

Snow covered the roof outside our attic room

Muffling even more the silky moonlit scene.

A shy smiling cherub sconce offered discreet lamplight

While darkened stands with heavily flowered vases

Flanked our deep down bed

A fluffy white comforter could have concealed us

But we