Long Taken aback Poems
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The other day I was taken aback by something a young girl in the bookstore said…
It made me lose my perspective as my expectations ran away with my head.
This can happen when I least expect it and I usually get burned
which immediately brings me back to reality…and allows my humility to return.
She stared at me…I smiled…she said, “Excuse me but you look like….
and here is where my curiosity took over…as my expectations spiked…
I bet she’s going to say Sean Connery…and how would I respond
if she thinks I bear a resemblance to the best of all the Bonds?
If not the inimitable James Bond…perhaps she thinks I am a clone
of the older, strong and adventurous...father of Indiana Jones!
By this time in my own head my sensibilities were blurred…
I mean…I don’t even like martinis…not shaken…not even stirred.
Still to be mistaken for James Bond…now that would be a feat
that would make my day at work…totally complete.
Back to the girl standing in front of me…once my face she finished appraising…
“You look just like…my Grandpa.” She said, “the resemblance is amazing.”
I smiled as my ego plopped back to Earth…but I realized instantly…
that looking like her Grandpa was good enough for me.
Because she made the remark so innocently…with such elegance and grace…
and the mere mention of her Grandpa brought a smile to her face.
Expectations are a funny thing, however
for as she left the store this thought upon me dawned…
I wonder if her Grandpa was ever mistaken for James Bond?
While in my youth
I racked my brain
to fill up Time
Taken aback
By Time’s fast pace
Once in my prime
Dismissive still
that Time ticks on
indeed clockwise
Not feeling yet
that treasured Time
so fleeting flies
Of trite excuse
« for lack of Time »
I had no fears
Time’s metronome
hounds hastily
in golden years
Wisdom whispers
that Time is up
beyond a doubt
Implacably
relentlessly
Time’s running out
My train of thought
of Time that strikes
its closing chime -
A wistful wish
that I could buy
a tick more Time
April 24, 2021
Contest: T contest Time
Sponsor: Constance La France
In Skagway town, eighteen ninety-eight
Lived a young man, Elliot McKay.
He worked with his father selling dry goods,
To the miners heading Klondike-way,
They made some good coin in a day.
Elliot he, like most younger men,
Had an eye for womanly curves.
His favorite worked in a house downtown,
With dark hair done up in curls,
A woman who’d ‘broadened’ his world.
At first it was cold, but that all changed quick,
And they soon were a regular thing.
She taught him skills a man needs to know,
Really took the boy under her wing,
And knew how to make his heart sing.
But his father said “Boy, don’t fool yourself,
That damned girl wants nothing but cash.
And many a man has found himself broke,
Chasing after a professional lass,
You better get over her fast!”
But Elliot continued, and went when he could
For weeks this went on, as before.
Until one day she asked to meet his kin,
Not the act of some common whore.
She must have loved him like never before!
They went to his house outside of town,
His lady fidgeting and tense,
Elliot knew she must be nervous,
To be meet disapproving parents,
He prayed that his dad would relent.
She entered the home and father went cold,
His face truly taken aback.
His jaw dropped and he said aloud,”Clarice!”
Then she shouted outside,”It’s Mack!”
A new figure stormed in from out back.
A man appeared, a gun in his hand,
Pushing before him Elliot’s mother.
Elliot had seen his likeness before,
It was the felon Bloody Jack Carruthers,
He knew it could be no other.
Jack said,”Now, now, we meet again,
McKay, the man who survived,
When our gang fell down in Monterey,
Shot up back in seventy-five!
Our loot you had on your ride!”
“And now I see how you spent it all,
And made it pay out in droves,
While I rotted away in sweltering cells
Far down south in old Mexico,
Imagining how this would all go!”
“You see this girl here, she is in my pay,
Since I heard that your son took a shine.
She played the damn fool, acted in love,
Until he’d bought into her lies.
And she led me here where I did find…”
“That a dirty skunk, yellow as can be
Built his home on the blood of my friends!
And all because this pretty young girl,
Your stupid, young son could bend.
Now then, prepare for your end…”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I started noticing superficial similarities.
He had a shaved head just like me,
and we were both the same age, separated by 3 months exactly.
He was born June 1st, 1953.
I was born March 1st, 1953,
and as I listened to his life story,
of mental health issues, darkness and misery,
I began noticing stronger similarities,
between this unfortunate individual and yours truly.
His problems as a child, his falling into the company,
that would influence his life most heinously eventually.
His low self-esteem, his vulnerability to be drawn in,
by anyone who made him feel special, and/or important,
and as I sat staring into my flatscreen,
I was taken aback suddenly.
The image on my screen was not he but me.
"There but for the grace of god goes I,"
was the first thought I had before I broke down and cried,
but I wasn't crying for myself, I was crying for him,
because he too, like I was also a victim,
of an environment that influenced our behaviour and decision making.
My path just happened to be not as extreme,
as this individual who publicly is seen as a villain,
but it could have been.
"There but for the grace of god goes I,"
I continued thinking as I continued to cry.
It all began as my wife and I were attending a
state fair. My wife had joined with a friend,
and the two of them sought their interest and
fantasies. I simply wandered about from one booth
to another until I came upon a gentleman painting
on a canvas. It caught my interest when he sighted
and made eye contact with me about 8 feet away.
Suddenly, I was taken aback as it would appear that
He began painting a picture of me. From a blank canvas,
he proceeded to paint at a pace I had never seen and began
with a FOREHEAD covered with aging lines and sweat.
The sheer sight of that forehead brought drops of
sweat to my forehead.
There seems to have been a prophetic link between
the painter, the canvas, and myself, uniting us like
the confluence of rivers.
Little did I expect that he would be painting a picture
of me. As he proceeded with great brevity and skill,
every aspect of the painting created a like-effect
on myself. As he continued, with watery EYES, he said
such eyes portrayed my own, filled with cares and burdens
of hurting people.
The EARS he painted were larger than normal and embraced
with signs seen only by those needing to speak in confidence
to a trusted one. The tired, weary, and lonely souls knew
that the ears were special and designed to listen to their
cries of neglect and pain; to their disappointment, mistakes,
and misfortunes.
As the painter began with a normal-looking NOSE, he assured me
that the nose was lightyears from normality because it was equipped,
not to pass judgment on the sins of mankind, but to filter what came
through it. And like a tree taking in carbon dioxide and giving out oxygen, such was the nose of my own that he painted.
Lastly, the talented and prophetic painter paused and stared at me
just before starting on the MOUTH. There were no critical words of
caution from him or the mouth he painted. Notwithstanding, unspoken
words flowed into my heart and soul, igniting a change in the way and
tone of my speech. I was therefore informed that my lips of dust must henceforth release more words of divine love.
Not all of our lives are like a box of chocolate, never knowing what we
are going to get. Sometimes, God unveils the essence of our lives in mysterious ways. In my case, it is a 'never-ending story'. But it started
with a blank canvas.
When she said those five words to me, I was astonished, ahgast, flabbergasted, mystified. She never knew my dad who died long before I even met her. At the time, she had not even seen a picture of him and only knew what I told her of him. By the way, allow me to inject a word of advice to husbands. Tell your wife the good side of your father. Anyway, I told my wife the bad side of my father because at the time, it was difficult for me to remember the good side of my dad.
So when my wife said to me, "You are just like him", I was taken aback. How could she say such a thing? He drank; he gambled; he cursed a lot; he carried a gun in his pickup and wasn't afraid to use it; at times, he was very unkind and verbally abusive toward my mother. I prided myself that I was none of those things. Yet, she said it again, "You are just like him".
I tell you, she saw in me what I had not seen in myself-my dad alive and well in his son. That's when I took note to begin to deal with the bad side of my dad in me by the Grace of God and the Christ in me. By the Grace of God, I am becoming less like the bad side of my earthly father and more like my heavenly father.
062020PS
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
A delicate design, gently painted are white ink spots on each wispy wing
polka dots align her spine, O what a sight for sore eyes in virgin spring
A fancy moth is what some say, an insect with a marbled brown fringe ‘til they're taken aback by flair’s array, iridescent cerulean and teal tinge
A thousand miles she will fly, against Fall's tender cool azure sky
golden rays her solar compass, to orient her pathways—alas
Her journey comes to an end, up the coast where time she’ll spend
Vanessa flutters by, a painted lady, a butterfly
Do you ever know what you mean to someone?
I don’t
Thought I was doing a bad job
At least not to the level that I want me to do
Well today I met a client at Sam’s
The client I had helped before
She smiled and said the name of my organization
And said “you work there
You are my favorite worker”
I was taken aback
A little shock
I was?
Her favorite worker?
What an honor
I don’t know about you
But that means a lot to me
A little affirmation
Sometimes we can be so hard on ourselves
Not knowing what we do is right
The right words
The right way
Anyhow I thought I’d share
Just do the best that you can
And don’t be too hard on yourself
Things will fall in places
When they will
You just be
I shared that with my sister
And she said “you made a difference in her life”
Did you know that?
I sure didn’t
Know that I can make a difference
in someone’s life
That’s huge
Anyhow
Hope I make a difference in someone’s life
Everyday
That would be a goal worth striving for
Let’s see now
If I can make one smiles
Would that be a goal worth striving for?
If I can make their lives better?
If
Now I am rambling
Back to my own thoughts
Like I told my sister
“I just do the best I can”
And God will do the rest
I saw a man today,
A man picking up the wrappers I threw.
A distinct emotion emerged
As I saw the man with no expression,
A dead man, yet alive.
A stare was all he gave.
He looked up and said,
"I wish I were you, throwing the wrapper,
Sitting with my legs twined,
A nice pair of clothes to wear,
A nice pair of shoes.
I crave for such a life."
"I'd ask for no such things if I were you.
The life I live, you see,
Seems pretty afar,
Yet so noisy, looking neigh.
Who would like to be me?
A person who lives like a corpse?"
"I wish I were you, my friend,
Happy with the little I'd have.
I see things that others contradict.
I feel entities in my thoughts,
See them everywhere...
An insane man pretending to be sane.
Yet you desire my life."
"I wish I could
Grant you my life instead.
Do you wish to live the life of an insane man?
Would you have the courage
To face the unrecognisable voices?
You must not be scared
When your ambience talks to you...
You'd have to embrace them."
"The pair of boots talk to me sometimes.
They tell me how bad of a man I am.
The clothes I wear
I can't differ them.
The same pair, I wear them all the time.
Ironical, isn't it?
I yearn for a life peaceful,
While the one living such wants chaos!"
"There is no such thing as peace in our lives.
Peace? A mere illusion?
It is a notion invented by them.
As long as we live,
Our minds and our lives follow chaos.
I dreamt of a life of solitude...
What do I get, dear?
Why would I not crave for a life like yours?
Live mine and experience the pain.
My family awaits, yet these pennies stink."
Abruptly, I was taken aback.
The man I talked to was nowhere to be found.
A man next to me stared and stared...
"Are you okay, sir?
Who were you talking to?"
I shook my head, implying I'm okay.
Or was I?
Braids and Ladders
There was once a very selfish wife,
Who allowed her husband to risk his life,
Collecting Rapunzel climbing over
A witch’s wall,
Until one night the witch caught him!
How dare you, how did you have
The gall!
She promised not to hurt a hair on
His head,
But made him a promise that she
Would instead,
Collect their first born,
Which she duly did one morn!
Rapunzel, she called the little girl,
Who grew into a true sight to
Be seen,
So the witch locked her in a tower
Where not a solitary being,
Could enter, for there was no door
Just a window way up high
And a very high tower pointed towards
The sky.
Rapunzel had very long blonde
Braids,
And up these braids climbed this horrible
Old witch.
Rapunzel to pass the time would sing,
And one day a prince passed, heard
A song and watched the witch cling
To long braids which reached the ground,
After she had
Whispered Rapunzel let down your hair,
Which someone from high up did with
Great flair!
One night the prince said the same,
And without a care,
Rapunzel let down her hair,
Up climbed the prince , Rapunzel
Was startled, and he, taken aback,
At such beauty, he immediately fell in love,
Proposed, Rapunzel accepted for
She instantly loved him back.
One day Rapunzel said to the witch,
You are much heavier than the prince,
You evil girl, she said, you are deceitful
And took her to a desert to weep and
Where she would never see people!
The witch tied Rapunzel’s braids
By the window and when the prince
Called for Rapunzel to let down her hair,
He climbed up the braids, which he didn’t
Know were now a snare!
The witch pushed him, he fell into a
Bush with many a thorn,
And was blinded.
He lost interest in life and wandered through
The forest, he was lost in mourn,
Finally reached the desert and heard
A familiar voice in song,
Ran towards it Rapunzel recognized
The prince and shed many a tear,
One of which, to the witches’ greatest fear,
Fell on his eyes and delighted
He could again see,
Together they took flee,
To the Prince’s kingdom, where Rapunzel, the
Fair beauty and the Prince married,
Not a moment wasted or tarried!
Foot Note
RAPUNZEL IS A SALAD VEGETABLE