Author: papasmurf

Missing Him

          Missing Him

Sitting here in a blue mood.

Just staring at the moon.

Thinking about you.

Where ever you went to.

You’re on a secret mission.

One Navy Seal is missing.

Missing from by my side.

I miss you so, I cried.

I know it is your job.

I pray for protection from God.

Please let him come home safe.

Let that be his only fate.

He does it for his country.

Let the children run free.

Let us maintain our freedom.

He fights so we can see them.

Yet,—– I miss him so.

Let someone else do the show.

He has paid his dues.

I hope it’s me he’ll choose.

His hitch will be up soon.

Let him make my heart swoon.

Let him tell me he’s home to stay.

All my prayers will be answered that day.

————————R.W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

A Mystery Bird On Christmas

   Mystery Bird On Christmas

A bird appeared on the porch today.

A single bird on Christmas day.

Not a partridge or a cardinal.

I wondered if he had far to go?

A black bird. A crow or raven?

I gave him seed. He stayed then.

He brightened up the day for us.

Hopping around and strutting his stuff.

Was this a sign of something coming?

Some kids went by out front, running.

He didn’t fly away. He just watched.

He flapped his wings. Then he stopped.

Moving aside if someone went out,

He wasn’t afraid, just hopped about.

He stayed on the porch all day.

He was a blessing, I must say.

Each time we looked he was there.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

It was all a mystery to us.

Why did he think we, he could trust?

At sundown he pecked on the door.

Was he hungry and wanted more?

We opened the door and heard him say.

“Merry Christmas,”  and he flew away.

———————–R.W. Johnson—–(2016)

The Imagination Of Children

 

      The Imagination Of Children

Children can see things adults can’t.

Adults don’t believe in that rant.

Kids see magical beings, elves, or fairies.

Sometimes things better left buried.

Adults outgrow the magical thinking.

They ignore it without even blinking.

But, how real are these ‘beings.’

They leave kids with a scary feeling.

Like the bogie man in the room.

Or evil climbing out of a tomb.

Physical scratches can appear on kids.

Bruises or cuts will flip parents lid.

Police suspect child abuse.

Foolish to tell them the real excuse.

Seems, the creatures can only appear

to those that believe. That much is clear.

What can be done about such threats?

Scaring little kids almost to death.

Not much, unless you think like a kid.

If you do, can you keep your lid?

If it scares kids, it will scare you.

Transport yourself to that world of magic.

Once there, Can you not be fanatic?

Actually come up with a plan.

One to stop them from coming to this land?

Would it be a wise thing to do?

A lot of children would be depending on you.

Yet, how will this affect their imagination?

They must have one to make a creation.

To reach their full potential in life,

They need that young experience of strife.

Maybe, better to leave well enough alone.

As long as it keeps a subdued tone.

The monsters come and the monsters go.

The children live on, becoming stars of the show.

———————————R.W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

It Was A Lie

             It Was A Lie

I didn’t want you to go away.

Your place is here by my side.

Tell me why you wouldn’t stay?

I wasn’t taking you for a ride.

 

Someone has been telling you lies.

Someone who was jealous of us.

I couldn’t lie to you, even if I tried

There is just no need for all the fuss.

 

You’re the one I’ve always dreamed of.

I felt you were sent from God above.

I cherish you more than life itself.

This is the worst I have ever felt.

You’re hurting from a lie that’s not true.

Please,—– put it all behind you

I was meant for you and you for me.

The happiness is us together, you see.

 

The best times were the two of us.

I never wanted anyone but you.

Have total faith and all your trust

that I am true. On this point you must.

 

Come back. We must make up the time.

I’m so into you. There is no other.

I want to know you are once again mine.

Please believe me. I don’t want another.

 

You’re the one I‘ve always dreamed of.

I felt you were sent from God above.

I cherish you more than life itself.

This is the worst I have ever felt.

You’re hurting from a lie that’s not true.

Please,—–put it all behind you.

I was meant for you and you for me.

The happiness is us together, you see.

———————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

The Preacher Of The Punch

Preacher Of The Punch

They came from near and far.

To hear the preacher, a big star.

He preached hot hell and freezing snow.

He alone could steal the show.

By the time he got on stage.

He already had worked up a rage.

He had them crying and screaming.

He had them praying with feeling.

He flushed their pockets of all their change.

“The Lord will provide”, he fed their brains.

He tore them down to worthless sinners.

Then built them up to glorious winners.

He asked for a dedication and they all came up.

He blessed each one while they drank from a cup.

He said it was the blood of the Lord.

For each and every one it struck a chord.

They were all saved by the blood of the lamb.

He had them eating right out of his hand.

They would follow him anywhere.

They would do whatever he dared.

He took them to the jungle in Guyana.

To avoid the persecution that was falling like manna.

He got them all to drink “Guyana Punch.”

It wasn’t something just served for lunch.

It was poison that would release them home.

Now that it’s done, you have been shown.

A preacher may be full of fire and brimstone.

But, if he says he will bring you home.

Then it’s time to find a new congregation.

Somewhere else to drink your libations.

Otherwise you will be disappointed.

When it is time for you to be anointed.

There is a God who will save all who come.

Read the Bible, you’ll know who is the One.

That way in that glorious day

Your sins will have been forgiven and cast away.

————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

Only Way To Travel In Time

 

Only Way To Travel In Time

I had a flash in my mind.

I had an idea about time.

As I walk down this dusty road.

My mind totes a heavy load.

Is time a constant, no variants?

Good thing I carry mints.

I popped one into my mouth.

It was good, as I roamed about.

Is time something we can travel?

Like this dusty road with gravel?

I move in time without moving at all.

I can’t run or move at a crawl.

Yet, something is happening here.

I can’t go back. Only look to the rear.

I move forward at a set speed.

If faster, would I age indeed?

Time travel gets scarier each minute.

One could lose one’s self in it.

The unknowns are a big turn off.

Yet, maybe, it will all burn off.

The how is the big problem here.

Can you travel within a mirror?

About as easy as time travel is.

Possible?  Maybe. But, gee whiz.

There is one way to do it now.

Imagination works somehow.

If you can think it, you can do it.

About as open as it can get.

So, buckle up and go for a ride.

Read Si Fi and ride the tide.

It is something anyone can do.

It sounds perfect for me and you.

—————-R.W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Who Killed The Robin?

Who Killed The Robin? 

Who killed Cock Robin?

Maybe it was a goblin?

Who is Cock Robin?

A bird or a bobbin?

 

Who cares anyway?

One Robin less today.

What else can I say?

Would this make a play?

 

Robins come and robins go.

Maybe killed by a crow?

I say, I just don’t know.

This would be a dumb show.

 

Why write a poem about it?

Started, didn’t want to quit.

I don’t really give a s—.

Now, now, don’t throw a fit.

 

If Robin were alive today.

I wonder what he would say?

He probably can’t talk anyway.

Just rock, bop, and sing all day.

 

That is if he is a bird.

Remember, the bird is the word.

At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

One thing I haven’t heard.

 

Would be a man named Cock.

I can’t say that name rocks.

He would need to be wise, like a fox.

He would be teased  a lot.

 

So, we come around again.

The beginning is the end.

Who killed Cock Robin?

Too bad, but nobody is sobbing.

—————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Mystery Rides The Wind

         Mystery Rides The Wind

Her name was hidden for iniquity.

It’s the ancient knowledge of the wolves.

Identify her and you will see.

She will come, like a devil on hooves.

She is a mystery to the common man.

Coming from an unknown source.

Good or evil, none know her plan..

To see her is a rarity, of course.

The colors that dance on her dress.

Can hypnotize one into a coma.

As she whirls one can only guess.

What magic it will show ya.

Don’t fall in love with her.

You will travel to the clouds on far.

You will be her slave, for sure.

Taken to a land beyond the stars.

Your fate then would be unknown.

None know them, or what they are?

Do you really want to be shown?

Leave her a mystery who rides the wind.

Do not try to pry into her world.

You may end up losing your skin.

Neither angel nor fairy, she is no herald.

What she brings should be left alone.

It is not for mortal man to know.

I hope that you are never shown.

Your existence here will be a no show. 

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

Christmas Spirit

         Christmas Spirit

It’s a hero’s job, I know.

I heard it on the radio.

It is neither here or there.

It is everywhere.

It is the spirit of love for another.

Treat him like he is your brother.

Bring cheer to all near and far.

It doesn’t matter who they are.

It is the opposite of being a Grinch.

You’d think to do it would be a cinch.

But, it is much harder than it seems.

Such things happen only in dreams.

It is more blessed to give than receive.

Try to tell that to all the thieves.

It is a job not all can handle.

But, it seems, I have started to ramble.

Let it be said, it happens once a year.

At Christmas there is a lot of cheer.

Many step up and become a hero.

Spreading cheer where ever they go.

Few are those who act like Scrooge.

Though many don’t have a holiday mood.

Christmas’s come and they also go.

But, remember. It takes a hero.

———————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

The Library Of Babel

 

        The Library Of Babel

I am trapped with no way out.

I don’t know what it’s all about.

A Library Of Babel with endless rooms.

No way out with no ending soon.

Each door leads to another.

Endless rooms, each open to plunder.

Each room is a different time and age.

A different place to try to engage.

Every language from every time.

Ancient past to future unwinds.

Every story thats written, or will be.

Sitting there for anyone to see.

All bringing babble & more confusion.

Is all this real, or just an illusion?

Nothing to explain what’s going on.

Hallucination or nightmare, it’s all wrong.

Rooms with records of every man’s life.

Be it short or long, with all the strife.

Is this God’s record hall or am I nuts?

This is no place for the likes of us.

There has got to be a way out of here.

Maybe I just had one too many beers?

I don’t know if I am coming or going.

It is hell not really knowing.

I could stay here or move on to another.

Whatever room I’m in, I could smother.

It is too much, too big of a load.

I can’t handle the overload!!

I don’t even know how I got here?

Was I asleep or was it too many beers?

I keep thinking I will wake up.

Yet, here I am. Stuck in this rut.

Then, I have a brilliant idea to try.

“I will find the book of my life,” I cry.

It should tell me how this ends.

Will I be rescued by my friends?

After an eternity of searching,

I find my book where it was lurking

I flip to the final pages.

It says: Still in the works for the ages.

Looks like I will have to make my own ending.

I wonder if this is even trending?

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)