Fantasy – Page 28 – Word Smith Wisdom

Ode To Mountain Mike

Ode To Mountain Mike

He was a mountain man through and through.

You could tell by the way he would talk to you.

He was tough as cow hide and twice as strong.

Once he started, he wouldn’t stop all day long.

He crawled 20 miles on cracked ribs & a broken leg.

Took him two weeks. Then he drank a keg.

He made it to a small, outback store for help.

To pay for it, he gave the guy a pelt.

Hunting and trapping was his stock and trade.

He made his living by what it paid.

When the Rocky Mountains were first explored,

mountain men made the first scores.

Our mountain man, we’ll call him Mike,

was as tough as a steel spike.

He had a one room cabin way up in the mountains.

He called it base camp. It was near some fountains.

He roamed an area now called Yellowstone.

He saw hot pools of water, bubbling up with foam.

He saw geysers, rivers, and hot mud flats.

The mud felt good on his tired feet. It’s a fact.

He would hunt & trap bear, beaver, badger, and elk.

He would eat the meat and save the pelts

Once a year he would go to civilization.

Take his large store of pelts in preparation.

He would then buy supplies for another year.

Then, off he would go hunting elk and deer.

He would often fish for himself. Nothing was fished out.

He would catch big, beautiful rainbow trout.

A fish dinner cooked on an open fire.

It would fill him up and he would retire.

Next day he was up early and off again.

One day he ran into a group of red men.

It was an Indian hunting party out for the day.

He knew enough of their language to say.

“How is it going? Was hunting good?”

They would answer as best they could.

He had made peace with the local Indians.

Since the day he saved the chief’s son’s skin.

The kid was pinned down by a bear.

Mike nailed the bear with a shot from nowhere.

He was so far away, the Indians could hardly believe

the shot was possible to achieve.

Such things Mike took as a task to be done.

Indians respected him. He was the ‘one.’

Many stories of mountain men are told.

Most were exaggerated to sound bold.

But, the stories of Mountain Mike were true.

There was nothing that he couldn’t do.

But, today, we are running out of time.

We will tell another of his stories another time.

——————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Frogmania

Frogmania

In the land before time.

There was a frog who was a mime.

Eons passed, and he was still around.

He still did mimes & played a clown.

Finally, here comes modern times.

Where is that frog who mime’s?

I saw him on the WB.

Doing commercials for the network, see.

He wears a top hat & has a cane.

But, his act is much the same.

He jumps and dances around.

He kind of looks like a little clown.

What has this world come to?

Where a frog can entertain you.

But, a lot of animals are stars today.

Not much left for us to say.

Animals have moved up the chain.

While humans have become too vain.

If you are entertained by a talking frog.

How much longer till you’re in a fog.

Unable to think for yourself.

An organic robitoid, with a little wealth.

You’ll probably be a liberal without thought.

Look around and see what you have wrought

Bring back the frog who was a mime.

At least, he was quiet all of the time.—-R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

The Way It Went Down

The Way It Went Down

It was time to try again.

Another woman. Where to begin?

I stammered out a few words.

I wasn’t sure if she had heard.

So, I repeated them again.

“You’re approach is pretty thin”

I said “What do you mean?”

“I have heard it all before”

“You’re not the first. But, you’re local lore.”

“Some bartender flappin his jaws.” I said.

“They exaggerate the women I’ve taken to bed”

“You can only believe half of what you hear.”

“Why don’t you let me buy you a beer?”

“You don’t give up easily, I’ll say that.”

“What makes you think I’ll fall for that?”

“We both are here, so, why pretend.”

“We will probably never be here again.”

She laughed at that and said “Why not.”

I smiled & thought ‘I will give it all I’ve got.’

We started talking while sharing a drink.

“Had ya going”, she said with a wink.

I laughed and nodded my head.

“I hope you weren’t scared with that talk of bed.”

She said it wasn’t the first time it’s been heard

“Sometimes, it’s more common than a cuss word.”.

We both laughed and continued to talk.

I found out about her whole life’s walk.

I told her quite a bit about myself.

She said. “Time to come down off the shelf.”

“What do you mean?”, as I hid a belch.

“You’re up there like a well read book.”

“Time to come down & take a second look.”

“What is it you really want from life?”

“I hope that doesn’t make you uptight.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it before.”

“Most last one night, till she walks out the door.”

“Are you saying you’re looking for a relationship?”

“I guess I am,—– come to think of it.”

“That takes commitment on your part & hers.”

“That would be a ‘new book’ that’s for sure.”

Well, you can guess where this conversation went.

I am not sure if she hooked me or if I wanted to vent.

But, we connected in a way that never happened before.

When we left, we were together as we went out the door.

Years later, we still haven’t been apart.

Fill in the blanks. We each did our part.

—————————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

The Turtle And Hare Race

The Turtle And Hare Race

I think you’ve heard the story about the race.

When the hare & turtle were setting the pace.

The turtle wins, or so the story goes.

But, we all know that story blows.

It is time to set the record straight.

Time to tell the world the hare wasn’t late.

The race started and the hare was way ahead.

He decided to take a nap instead.

When he awoke the turtle was still behind.

The hare, then, decided to dine.

He ate a big slew of carrots.

The turtle was late, he could hardly bare it.

The hare ran circles around the turtle.

Then he took off and did a hurtle.

Jumped a log with room to spare.

He landed right in a rabbit snare.

Hours later, here came the turtle.

The hare begged for help. who helped? The turtle.

After setting the hare free.

The turtle said “Have pity on me.”

The hare was thankful to the turtle.

He said “I’ll let you win, since I am fertile.”

“I have plenty to keep me busy.”

“I’ll be spending time with the missy.”

The turtle smiled and off he went.

Hours later, the turtle was close to the end.

Here came the hare, running like the wind.

The turtle won, only by a nose.

The hare was nursing some sore toes.

So, there is how the story really went.

The hare acted upset, but he really wasn’t bent.

The hare was fast, in more ways than one.

The turtle, truly, can’t even run.

Yet, the turtle won, we are told.

We’ll keep his secret till we are old.—R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

A Swan’s Dilemma

A Swan’s Dilemma

Two swans fly over a serene mountain lake.

They circle and decide to land, eat, & rest.

All they see are a few ducks. They are bait.

The swans ignore this, as you might guess.

They are rummaging around in the tulles.

Something to eat. Maybe some minnows.

Suddenly, a loud bang shakes the tulles.

The ducks take off like bugs out a window.

The swans take flight. The female swerves.

She is hit in the foot by a shotgun pellet.

Her mate flies close to steady her nerves.

Her foot is bleeding. They can smell it.

Soon, they are safely out of range.

They find a small creek in which to land.

The female is limping, due to the pain.

It looks like it will heal ok if given a hand.

Her mate helps her all he can with food & drink.

Why would anyone shoot poor innocent ducks?

Swans are protected. Collateral damage, they think.

We are birds. So are ducks.

We differ in looks and color.

Yet, we are the same. What a rut.

They will shoot one, but not another?

When will they give up this silliness.

Stop shooting us all and live in peace.

All it would take is a little willingness.

We all share this planet. It’s the very least.

————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Into The Mirror

Into The Mirror

They said to grandpa: “It is fun here.”

Grandkids, visiting one summer.

It was an old colonial house.

Perfect for grandpa & his spouse.

A neat house for teens to explore.

It was still odd though, just like before.

There were no mirrors in the home.

They knew why, yet, they moaned.

“How could such a story be true?”

Grandpa said it was. “We’re not fools.”

One day the kids were exploring the basement.

Tom told his sister to be patient.

“We’ll check out everything here.”

They only saw one thing that was queer.

In the corner was a large steamer trunk.

Buried under a bunch of junk.

They uncovered it and took a look.

It wasn’t locked, only hooked.

They opened it & found old clothes.

They even found shoes with wooden soles.

Down in the bottom they found a mirror.

“There is barely room for it in here.”

Carefully, they lifted the antique out.

Propped it against the wall & looked about.

No one was there. Just the basement.

An antique frame, the mirror was encased in.

They looked into the mirror & got a shock.

They were there, but the basement was not.

They saw what looked like a castle wall.

They couldn’t believe what they saw at all.

Tom touched the mirror itself.

His hand went into the mirror, he felt.

“Becky, did you see that?”

“Yes, your hand went out of sight”

“No, it went right into the mirror.”

“Are you sure? That seems queer.”

“Remember the stories grandpa used to tell?”

“They said the mirrors were a door to hell.”

“Let’s go in & see what really is there.”

They both stepped into, who knows where?

They were in like a storage area in a castle.

They snuck down the hall without hassle.

They heard voices up ahead.

It was coming from a side room instead.

A man, who looked like a wizard.

Was speaking to one who looked like a lizard.

“Egore, the mirror spell is almost completed.”

“I think I have just what I needed.”

“The mirror will be our doorway to the future.”

“I will no longer have angry men after me.”

“No more villagers trying to kill me, see.”

“With my magical powers I will rule the future.”

“No more freeloaders. no more moochers.”

“Only problem, someone from there must

come through first to show they have trust.”

“Then our portal will never be closed.”

He then made an evil laugh through his nose.

“My descendants will pass down the mirror.”

“ 400 years must pass before there is anything to fear.”

Tom & Becky had heard enough.

They hurried back to the mirror in a rush.

They came bursting through.

Then tore upstairs to tell their grandpa too.

He said: “oh oh. I forgot about that mirror.”

“Now, where do we go from here?”

“I have an idea,” grandma said.

She put down her needle and thread.

She got the family Bible & a brass cross.

“We will rebuke this at any cost.”

At the mirror, they held them both in the air.

“God, rebuke this evil from here & everywhere.”

At first nothing changed.

Then, the mirror started smoking, in flames.

The stone walls inside started melting.

They heard a voice from within the hell scream.

“It’s on fire Egore, grab all you can bring.”

“I can’t save the mirror. I can’t get in the room.”

“Run for your life, or we are doomed.”

After awhile, the fire went out.

All was ash and blackened grout.

Then the scene snapped out of sight.

There was only a reflection of the basement light.

It now seemed to be an ordinary mirror.

They had stopped the evil. That was clear.

Grandpa took the mirror to the dump anyway.

He still doesn’t own any mirrors to this day.

———————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Instant Relocation

Instant Relocation

Awhile back I was in my car.

Taking a drive to a juice bar.

Suddenly, I didn’t know where I was.

Everything around began to fuzz.

I focused and checked my watch.

Date & time correct. They weren’t botched.

What the heck just happened to me?

I was lost, from what I could see.

Then I saw a road sign ahead.

I was about 60 miles from home, it said.

Somehow, I was instantly here.

No, I had not been drinking beer.

It took 1 ½ hours to drive home.

The whole thing shook me to the bone.

The next day it happened again.

I was only sent 15 miles away then.

One more time it happened that week.

To another near town. I was freaked.

It couldn’t be a memory lapse.

Not enough time had passed.

It did not happen on the weekend.

Seemed to be only during the week .

I had to talk to someone about it.

But, who. They will think I am a nitwit.

I finally decided on my pastor.

He was really shocked, to be sure.

He took it with a grain of sand.

He decided to be the man.

He said he would come & ride with me.

Monday he came over, just to see.

We drove out in my car.

We had not gotten very far.

Next thing, we were 25 miles away.

He was pale, with little to say.

When we got home he prayed with me.

He didn’t know what it could be.

This continued. I hoped it would end soon.

Then, there was an eclipse of the moon.

After that, it never happened again.

It started exactly 1 month before the eclipse.

Then, it never happened again after this.

No explanation was ever found.

I was always cautious driving around town.

Years later another eclipse was due.

I stopped driving 1 month before. Wouldn’t you?

————————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Fastest Gun In The West

Fastest Gun In The West

I live in a one horse cowboy town.

Why is it called a ‘one horse’ town?

The saloon rail has room for one horse is all.

The Livery Stable only has one stall.

Yet, it is a fair sized town.

Lots of people live close around.

One day a drifter came into town.

Got off his horse and looked around.

He went into the only saloon.

He ordered a drink. It was just before noon.

He sat and drank for awhile.

I rarely saw him crack a smile.

Then, another ‘gun slinger’ came in.

He looked around. He didn’t grin.

He saw the drifter & walked over.

He pulled up a stool. He looked bolder.

He said “Did you think you could hide away?”

The drifter didn’t have a thing to say.

He then said “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

The drifter just looked him in the eye.

‘Were going to find out if you’re the best.”

The drifter slowly opened his vest.

“I am not wearing a gun.”

“Then, you had better get yourself one.”

“If you don’t I will gun you down.”

“Then tell everyone I’m the fastest around.”

“You only have one chance to live.”

“Face me in a fair gunfight, or look like a sieve.”

The drifter slowly got to his feet.

Then he walked into the street.

He went to his saddlebags and got a gun.

He then proceeded to strap it on. Not for fun.

He walked into the street with the sun at his back.

The gun slinger said “You’re a dead man. It’s a fact”

The gun slinger moved and faced him in the street.

Neither said a thing as they spread their feet.

Then, the gun slinger made his move.

He was like greased lightning. Don’t be fooled.

But, he had barely started his draw

when a bullet struck him in the jaw.

His gun hadn’t quite yet cleared his holster.

The drifter was not any kind of boaster.

He turned and took off his gun.

Put it back in his saddlebag. He was done.

He mounted his horse and rode out of town.

Left the town folk standing around.

They buried the gun slinger in an unmarked grave.

Everyone knew how he had behaved.

They felt the drifter had every right.

He was the fastest thing in sight.

Yet, no one knew his name.

Even though, just the same.

The rumors spread of a man with no name.

He had a draw so fast, it was insane.

The drifter was never heard from again.

Seems he wanted it that way, they said with a grin.

—————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Fear Intensified

Fear Intensified

Late at night.

When the stars are bright.

People get a fright.

By what’s not there.

They may think .

it’s hidden in the drink.

They may raise a stink.

Or, may not care.

But, never look for lumps in the brew.

That were not always there.

It is known, beyond a doubt.

The truth is more than you can bare.

So, when it’s spinning round, round.

Smoke glass stain going down, down.

Do not think I am the one.

In the end, the ups and downs,

will lead to a different fun.

In the room.

That is filled with gloom.

There is no room.

To throw a chair.

You may fear.

It was the beer.

Let’s make it clear.

There’s something there.

But, never look for lumps in the brew.

That were not always there.

It is known, beyond a doubt.

The truth is more than you can bare.

So, when it’s spinning round, round.

Smoke glass stain going down, down.

Do not think I am the one.

In the end, the ups and downs,

will lead to a different fun.

Make it through.

He’s coming for you.

Don’t slip in goo.

You have to try.

Your time has come.

You’re on the run.

No time for fun.

No time to cry.——–R. W. Johnson—–(2015)

Something In The Night

Something In The Night

As I laid down for the night.

I heard a thump, off to the right.

I sat up and looked around.

Nothing unusual could be found

I reached up & turned out the light.

Before long, I had a fright.

I felt a presence standing there.

I could feel it in the air.

The hair on my head stood up.

I felt trapped, like I was stuck.

Quick, like a bunny, I turned on the light.

I looked left and I looked right.

I couldn’t see anyone around.

My spouse lay next to me, sleeping sound.

I left the light on for awhile.

Eventually, I turned it off, with a smile.

My imagination was working overtime.

It was that short horror stories book of mine.

I was reading it to kill some time.

Before I started it, everything was fine.

I tried to get comfortable & go to sleep.

I prayed to the Lord my soul to keep.

I was just dosing when my wife awoke.

“Someone is here”, she spoke.

This sent a shiver of fear down my back.

I turned on the lamp, expecting a trap.

Again,—- no one was there.

“They could be hiding anywhere.”

I said “I’ll check it out”

I grabbed a flashlight & moved about.

I checked the house from bottom to top.

Checked windows, doors, and every lock.

All was secure. No one was there.

Nothing out of place anywhere.

She said “Maybe it was a ghost?”

“No such thing,” I tried to boast.

Again, we tried to get to sleep.

The scraping sound made me feel weak.

I jumped up with flashlight in hand.

I was ready to clobber the ‘man.’

No one there.— Not a sound.

Nothing unusual could be found.

We agreed to sleep with the light on.

It was fine till the light was gone.

We awoke with the lights out.

“What the hell!!,” I began to shout.

Our bed started shaking for no reason.

No earthquake, out of season.

We were scared. She started to scream.

We just wanted to split the scene.

Then, everything went completely still.

Not a single sound to give us a thrill.

Nothing ever happened again.

Our explanations were looking dim.

Years later, we don’t mention it anymore.

Yet, we sleep with light on & a locked door.

————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2015)