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This piece explains why I never managed to get this particular poem written - On a cold December evening back in 1967, just before I went to bed, I heard a scratching noise Coming from our cellar, and - like virtually any mystery that any brave inquisitive kid of seventeen enjoys - I stood there close to motionless, torn between discovering where the noise was coming from - and going on to bed. Darting through my mind, of course, were scenes from films I’d seen where those who’d simply had to know had usually wound up dead! But, as I mentioned, I was just a curious teenage kid, and finding out what sort of thing would make a sound like this Absolutely tortured me. It wasn’t all that loud, and seemed to be, at first, a gurgling, followed by a hiss, Which brought to mind a show I’d watched wherein a giant python had coiled around a St. Bernard then snarfed the dog for lunch! As it was, the instinct of the hound -- just as with me -- had coaxed him into finding out...based upon his hunch... What it was that taunted him, and - just as he’d suspected - lurking where it shouldn’t have been, a killer lay in wait, Figuring that, by hissing, he would likely lure his victim close enough to turn him into something that he’d ate! Pumas crossed my mind as well, as did - Komodo Dragons...both well known for hissing when confronted by their prey... As I descended slowly down the stairs to find the source, well aware of just how great a price I stood to pay. Having reached the bottom of the stair, and barely breathing, I began to fumble for the light switch, scared to death, When once again the hideous noises slithered through my ears, as I imagined, shortly - I would take my final breath! I fin’ly found the light switch but, of course, it did no good...the single bulb the cellar had had - as you’ve guessed - burned out, But, as it was, the undeniable urge that had my mind reconciled to learning what the sound was all about Had me close to hypnotized! I tried but couldn’t turn back. Despite the odds against me for surviving what I’d find A need that I could not deny had taken full control, and something very self-destructive now possessed my mind! Inch by inch I groped my way toward what I thought would be the source from which the terrifying sounds were coming from, All the while imploring me on, “How, in all the world, could any seasoned horror-movie-veteran be this dumb,” When...barely fifteen feet from where the darkness had begun...a strangely unfamiliar odor mortified my nerves, And I could tell beyond a doubt it had no correlation to anything related to my mother’s jarred preserves! This was something foreign to the average person’s nose. I paused for just a moment to assess what all this meant. The noises weren’t the sort you’re apt to hear - inside a house - and smells like this one, thankfully, are not a common scent, And - in their combination - would have easily been enough to turn around most anyone with even half a brain. But, sadly, this was not the case. I had a strong propensity to only learn a lesson if the doing so caused me pain, And - as you might have guessed by now - the fact is, friend, I vanished late that chilly evening, in the cellar of our home... Which is, of course, the reason why you haven’t seen me since...and why, of course, I never got the chance to write this poem. PS: I have a few books and audio-CDs of verse available at writerofbooks.com.

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Why I Never Wrote This Poem

This piece explains why I never managed to get this particular poem written - On a cold December evening back in 1967, just before I went to bed, I heard a scratching noise Coming from our cellar, and - like virtually any mystery that any brave inquisitive kid of seventeen enjoys - I stood there close to motionless, torn between discovering where the noise was coming from - and going on to bed. Darting through my mind, of course, were scenes from films I’d seen where those who’d simply had to know had usually wound up dead! But, as I mentioned, I was just a curious teenage kid, and finding out what sort of thing would make a sound like this Absolutely tortured me. It wasn’t all that loud, and seemed to be, at first, a gurgling, followed by a hiss, Which brought to mind a show I’d watched wherein a giant python had coiled around a St. Bernard then snarfed the dog for lunch! As it was, the instinct of the hound -- just as with me -- had coaxed him into finding out...based upon his hunch... What it was that taunted him, and - just as he’d suspected - lurking where it shouldn’t have been, a killer lay in wait, Figuring that, by hissing, he would likely lure his victim close enough to turn him into something that he’d ate! Pumas crossed my mind as well, as did - Komodo Dragons...both well known for hissing when confronted by their prey... As I descended slowly down the stairs to find the source, well aware of just how great a price I stood to pay. Having reached the bottom of the stair, and barely breathing, I began to fumble for the light switch, scared to death, When once again the hideous noises slithered through my ears, as I imagined, shortly - I would take my final breath! I fin’ly found the light switch but, of course, it did no good...the single bulb the cellar had had - as you’ve guessed - burned out, But, as it was, the undeniable urge that had my mind reconciled to learning what the sound was all about Had me close to hypnotized! I tried but couldn’t turn back. Despite the odds against me for surviving what I’d find A need that I could not deny had taken full control, and something very self-destructive now possessed my mind! Inch by inch I groped my way toward what I thought would be the source from which the terrifying sounds were coming from, All the while imploring me on, “How, in all the world, could any seasoned horror-movie-veteran be this dumb,” When...barely fifteen feet from where the darkness had begun...a strangely unfamiliar odor mortified my nerves, And I could tell beyond a doubt it had no correlation to anything related to my mother’s jarred preserves! This was something foreign to the average person’s nose. I paused for just a moment to assess what all this meant. The noises weren’t the sort you’re apt to hear - inside a house - and smells like this one, thankfully, are not a common scent, And - in their combination - would have easily been enough to turn around most anyone with even half a brain. But, sadly, this was not the case. I had a strong propensity to only learn a lesson if the doing so caused me pain, And - as you might have guessed by now - the fact is, friend, I vanished late that chilly evening, in the cellar of our home... Which is, of course, the reason why you haven’t seen me since...and why, of course, I never got the chance to write this poem. PS: I have a few books and audio-CDs of verse available at writerofbooks.com.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things