She Didn’t Know My Age

      She Didn’t Know My Age

I saw you watching me from across the room.

I don’t know you but, I feel that will change soon.

You look so young. But, then, I can’t judge age.

I just hope we will be on the same page.

Then I think. You don’t know how old I am.

Should I lie about my age or be a man.

Wait!!—–Your starting to walk my way.

Is there something that I should say?

I run through a number of opening lines.

None seem appropriate for this place & time.

Before I can speak you say: “Hi, I’m Sue.”

I’m glad I didn’t speak first & sound like a fool.

I said “Hi Sue”, and I told her my name.

She said “You look like a guy named Wayne.”

“Don’t know him.”, I said with a smile.

“No problem.” She said. “It’s been awhile.”

I said “New place and new times.”

She said “You bet. And it feels fine.”

We started talking over a drink or two.

She liked a lot of things that I did too.

I asked what she was doing here?

She said “Sitting with you having a beer.”

I asked her if she lived here in town.

“You know I do.” She said with a frown.

Concerned, I said “Before this goes too far,

I want to know how young you are?”

“I am young enough to be your daughter.”

“Do you think I look like your father?”

“No. Does the age difference bother you?”

“Only if I look or feel like a fool.”

To this she gave the nicest laugh.

“Don’t worry. I’ll try not to call you pap.”

I laughed too and the night went on.

After awhile we noticed most others were gone.

I asked her if she had a car.

“I didn’t walk here. It’s too far.”

I said I was close. Did she want to follow me home?

“I can do that. It’s better than being alone.”

Later on at my small but, comfortable apartment.

We sat and talked more as my heart went

into double time as she drew close to me.

I said “Just a minute. I have to pee.”

In the bathroom I thought .She doesn’t know my age.

It sounds like we are on the same page.

But, she just doesn’t know my real age.

I returned and said “I have something to say.”

I told her my real age. Thought she would say “No way.”

Instead, she just melted in my arms.

As secure as a calf on the farm.

I haven’t felt this way in years and years.

It was enough to bring me to tears.

I never thought of her as a daughter.

She never said I was her father.

But, we slept all night in each others arms.

Both afraid to move. We both felt safe from harm.

“This will last as long as I am alive.”

She says “Don’t mention it. We have arrived.”

I agreed as I drank tea with honey from sage.

I thought to myself. She didn’t even know my age.

——————————————————-R. W. Johnson—-(2012)

Limited Options

Limited Options

The blood.

The pain.

The horrible memories

Flashing through my brain.

 

My mind’s eye

Sees them all again;

Like a nightmare

Filled with wicked sin.

 

I tremble in fear.

I scream, I cry.

I cannot escape,

Though I may try.

 

The scars upon my body.

The scars within my mind.

Have returned again to haunt me

From a past long left behind.

 

A childhood forgotten.

Experiences long denied.

Now, suddenly remembered

Have left me terrified.

 

I huddle in a corner.

I hide within my bed.

But, I can’t escape these demons

That keep screaming in my head.

 

This Clockwork Orange experience

That disrupts my normal day.

Is driving me to suicide.

Is there another way?

 

I cry for help.

But, no one hears.

I run and hide

To escape my fears.

 

Curse my father.

Curse my mother too.

They’re  the ones responsible

For what I’m going to do.

 

I’m going where pain can’t hurt me.

Where fears no longer rule.

If there’s a God in heaven

I’m coming now to you.————————-R.W. Johnson—– (1988)

 

 

 

 

A Knight’s Tale

    A Knight’s Tale

A long, long time ago.

Or, so I’ve been told.

In days of old.

When knights were bold.

There lived a serf named ‘Pantsedalot.’

I’ll tell you how that name he got.

It was because he was pantsed a lot.

Sometimes he would pants himself.

As he ran around trying to help.

Down his pants would fall.

Then he would begin to bawl.

One day at a jousting match.

The serf was serving the days catch.

Fresh fish cooked just right.

Served to nobles as they watched the fight.

Someone ‘pantsed’ him as he went by.

As he fell the fish did fly.

Right into the kings lap.

There it landed with a smack.

The king was madder than hell.

He looked over from where it fell.

There was the serf tangled in his pants.

The king flew into one of his rants.

“Grab that serf and bring him here!!”

The serf turned white & trembled with fear.

“For doing such a graceful thing

I will make you a knight” said the king.

He raised his sword and touched the surf’s shoulders.

He said “I name thee ‘Sir Pantsedalot’,  The Bolder.”

Everyone roared with laughter and mirth.

The poor serf felt lower than dirt.

Now that he was a knight he was expected to fight.

He didn’t even know how to fly a kite.

He felt for sure his days were numbered.

About the results of this everyone wondered.

The serf was given armor , a shield, and a sword.

The king said ‘Great will be your reward.”

“Should you defeat ‘the Black knight’ today.

To you, I will give my daughter away.”

The serf secretly had a crush on her for years.

Everyone watching was giving him cheers.

Everyone watched as the battle started.

The Black Knight was acting half hearted.

They circled each other for awhile.

The serf made a couple of swings with no style.

The Black Knight just laughed at him.

He said “It is time for this charade to end.”

He took a mighty swing at the ‘new’ knight.

The serf jumped back with all his might.

The Black knight charged forward fast.

Then he tripped on the serf’s fallen armored ass.

the serf’s armor pants had slipped to the ground.

This saving his life as he looked around.

He jumped up and put his sword on the neck

of The Black Knight, who froze, his crotch wet.

“Surrender or die” yelled the serf.

The Black knight surrendered all to the serf.

The king was shocked and his daughter was happy.

The marriage took place and the people were happy.

So goes the story of ‘Sir Pantsedalot.’

The bravest knight who ever fought.

—————————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

Charlie’s Chick

      Charlie’s Chick

He hit me with his best punch.

Causing me to toss up my lunch.

Just because I whistled at his girl.

The way she smiled gave me a thrill.

I guess it all was worth the pain.

Even though that may sound lame.

I think I have a chance with his girl.

Why? Because she gives me a thrill.

But, it’s going to take some time.

A whole lot of precious time.

it’s going to take patience child.

I can’t go about this like I was wild.

To do it, to do it, to do it right.

I don’t want to have another fight.

A hello here. A note passed there.

Winking at her almost anywhere.

Always being around to help out.

Especially if her boyfriend’s not about.

In the end she’ll be more than a friend.

I can’t say the same about him.

If you want it with all your hart

you have to never give up your part.

The part of someone who admires her.

Someone who more than desires her.

Cherish is a word I use to describe.

All the feelings I have for her inside.

Nothing is worse than the curse.

The curse of loving Charlie’s girl.

The girl who gives me a thrill.

Charlie’s chick. That’s got to be good!!——R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

A Traveling Man

      A Traveling Man

Well, I’m a traveling man.

I have been to many lands.

I travel like the common man.

On back roads wherever I can.

Mexico is a beautiful place.

Common folk have what it takes.

Life there can be rough.

The people don’t have much stuff.

They earn their living with their hands.

Putting in a hard days work is their plan.

In Finland it is often cold.

The people there live to be old.

They like saunas & healthful living.

Their heart is right & very giving.

Life is tough there in the winters.

Reindeer herds to tend hinders

time to play much winter sports.

They keep busy even so, of course.

Spain is a beautiful country.

People are happy. There are plenty.

They raise grapes and other produce.

They even have chickens and a goose.

They are a lot like Mexico.

Yet, more aristocratic, you know.

Italy is a country that loves food.

Their heritage puts you in the mood.

Every wife can cook like a chef.

The kids can cook while still home yet.

They also like their wines.

They have some around all the time.

France is the place with wines to show.

They claim the best wines, you know.

Cooking is a big number there too.

French food is so rich it’s sure to fill you.

England swings like a pendulum do.

Children on bicycles two by two.

Their cooking is not their fame.

Many claim royalty with their name.

Yet the common folk are like anywhere.

No matter what, they really care.

They like their tea and crumpets.

When royalty comes they blow trumpets.

Through my travels I’ve found one thing.

Aside from culture, one thing does ring.

Common folk everywhere

are human and they care.

I guess God made us that way.

Looks like man is here to stay.—————–R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

Lessons Of Life

      Lessons Of Life

Have you thought of the first love of your life?

In the winter years of my life the memories are slight.

Very few of the memories still linger.

They are like sifting sand sliding through my fingers.

The memory of the love remains.

The emotions were strong. the pain tore me apart.

It cut like a knife and ripped apart my heart.

A quick fling in paradise that has now faded away.

Those strong emotions are all that stay.

Is it time that has faded the memory?

Maybe it is a mental defense against the enemy.

The enemy being past mental scarring.

So severe, if left raw, could  be a barring.

Barring you from ever having a normal life.

Always being afraid of mental stress & strife.

Those raw, strong emotions of my teenage time

have now mellowed like a rich fine wine.

I have a relationship with my wife

that is much better due to that early strife.

Relationships have a deeper meaning now.

A more loving, caring meaning somehow.

Life is a learning lesson from the womb to the grave.

Your brain & heart knows what to forget & what to save.

If you’re willing to learn from the lessons of life.

You will have a much better relationship with your wife.

——————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

The Soldier

The Soldier

A  snow storm was raging outside the cabin.

She heard something like scraping at the door.

She did not want to let something bad in.

Yet, she knew, she could do no more.

She opened the door and a man fell in.

It was a soldier, covered with snow & ice.

He said “I could have been enemy then.”

She said “No, cause you knocked nice.”

Puzzled, He got up & brushed off the snow.

He was a soldier, trained from the womb.

War and killing was his only goal.

“I am here to protect you from the enemy doom.”

“Are you living here alone?,” he shivered.

“Yes,” she said. “My husband died long ago.”

“This war could last the rest of winter.”

“I may be here that long before I go.”

“You are welcome to stay. Do you need food?”

“I haven’t eaten in a day or so.”

She busied herself preparing some food.

He barred the door. No one would go.

“Why do you live way out here all alone?”

“My husband was a trapper. I stayed on.”

“He was killed in an avalanche.”

“I stayed  here after he was gone.”

“How do you live in this circumstance?”

“I trap too. Sell the furs in the fall.”

“It gets lonely at times, but I love it here.”

Then they heard a noise outside. A call.

They both knew the enemy was near.

A bang on the door & the soldier fired .

They heard a thump on the door outside.

A moan was heard like someone was tired.

The woman went to look outside.

The soldier said “NO.” He indicated silence.

No other sound was heard outside.

The woman opened the door in defiance.

An enemy soldier laid there wounded.

The woman grabbed him & drug him in.

The soldier went to shoot him

The woman stopped him. “This is sin.”

“I am a soldier. it is my duty.”

“He is wounded. I will help him.”

“You cannot aide the enemy.” he said.

“I will help anyone hurt in my home.”

The soldier went to sit on the bed.

She dressed his wounds then he moaned.

“Why are you helping me?” he said.

“We are all equal under God” she stated.

“Love your enemy as yourself.”

Both soldiers were shocked at such statements.

She lifted the wounded soldier into bed herself.

The soldier kept fading in & out of consciousness.

the other soldier said “I think he’s dying.”

She said “He stopped bleeding. He was found with this.”

She held up a cross on a chain. She was crying.

“I don’t understand. What’s that mean?”

She explained the cross and what it meant.

“ I have never heard this. It could cause a scene.”

“If soldiers followed such rules, they would recant.”

“Their pledge to be a soldier would be useless.”

“Listen to the Holy Spirit as it speaks to you”

The soldier squirmed. His cause felt fruitless.

In a few days the wounded soldier died.

Before dying, he asked for forgiveness from God.

The soldier was shocked. “What?”, he cried.

She said “He made peace with his God”

They buried him with rocks and snow.

The woman said a prayer over him.

The soldier was confused. He wanted to know.

She explained the principle of sin.

For a few months she gave him Bible lessons.

He rebelled at first, then something happened.

As the Holy Spirit convicted his heart during sessions,

he began to see the truth. And he confessed bad sins.

He knelt and asked for forgiveness.

He was converted. Jesus was his Lord now.

“What will you do now?” she asked with firmness.

“I will resign my position & follow the Lord somehow.”

As he left in the spring, he said “I will see you again soon.”

In the fall he returned to her.

He took her in his arms & her heart swooned.

He was a new soldier now. That was sure.

A soldier in God’s army saving souls

He would fight side by side with her.

God and her, wherever he goes.

————————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2013).

 

 

 

Coming Together In A Heated Rush

     Coming Together In A Heated Rush

The wind howls across the ice flows

It sends the frozen snow skimming.

A hardened river on a river. So it goes.

It is not the same as in the beginning.

 

Is it flowing North, South, or Westward?

It just glides to the shoreline till it’s free.

Ice above & the water below. It’s end is heard.

As the glacier breaks & falls into the sea .

 

You come to me on fast forward.

You try to put the bums rush on me.

I am not one to rush toward.

I’m like the glacier headed to the sea.

 

Like a moth drawn to a flame.

You have no control over your impulses.

We both push and pull to make a claim.

Within this moment that encroaches.

 

History is relived through your own intent.

You’re drawn to me for that very reason.

We each try to mold the moment.

I know it’s coming in due season.

 

This is where the whole world keeps on turning.

This is where we come undone—–undone.

It has been brought to this point by yearning.

Which you cannot mix with fun.

 

Will they measure me by branches.

Count the rings and sift my ashes.

Mark the ground where I fell & carry on.

Or, will we fight against the silence.

Fill our days with noise & violence.

Not recognizing our hearts when we are done.

 

The moment of heated rush passes by.

We are left to piece it all together.

I find that you’re still you & I am I.

You’re touch is gentle. Like a feather.

 

No words pass between us.

We’re both lost in our own world.

There is no longer an interest in lust.

I lie on my side with my legs curled.

 

We soon get up & go about our business.

It’s as if we were someone else.

Video games & sports become your business.

I sit a & wonder how it felt.

 

I think of the glacier slowly sliding to the sea.

It’s history is there left behind.

An open book for all to see.

Slowly, I finally start to unwind.

 

I am not frigid nor turned off by love.

I just don’t deal with it in high gear.

It makes me feel like a glove.

Out of place when you are near.

 

For awhile we came undone—–undone.

Nothing mattered but this moment in time.

But, such emotions shouldn’t be for fun.

Only if I’m yours & you are mine.

 

Will they measure me by branches.

Count the rings and sift my ashes.

Mark the ground where I fell & carry on.

Or, will we fight against the silence.

Fill our days with noise & violence.

Not recognizing our hearts when we are done.

——————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

Commitment Time

      Commitment Time

Those strong emotional feelings that won’t let go.

The kind you had as a teenager that wouldn’t let go.

The feelings that were coming on strong.

Anytime something went right or wrong.

The kind that made life exciting and fun.

Yet, the kind that hurt really bad when they weren’t the one.

It is not only guys who treat love like a four letter word.

There are girls too who treat guys like a dirty bird.

Often those ‘strong’ emotions set the pattern for it.

Once burned they never recover from it.

There is a scar on their ego that won’t go away.

So, they are off to play the field another day.

Never making any real commitments in life.

It is the way they have found to avoid the strife.

Burn me once, it’s on you.

Burn me twice and I’m the fool.

Must life be such a silly game?

Romance is never won this way. It’s all so lame.

Does the word ‘commitment’ scare all today?

Or, is it that they don’t understand what to say?

This lack of commitment leaves much desired.

One love after another can get very tired.

It’s like skimming the whipped cream off a delicious desert.

Never getting deep enough to really taste what it is worth.

A commitment that envolves devotion, cherish, & dedication.

The results is far better than any meditation.

Dreaming about the ‘perfect’ love just doesn’t cut it.

Making a lifelong commitment is a cut above it.

The trust, support, endearment, & companionship develop.

In the end the expanded love will totally envelop.

You’ll be blessed so much more than a nightly stand.

It’s a ship anyone would be proud to command.

——————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The IRS Blues

 

      The IRS Blues

I got the blues.

Those government taxes blues.

Those back stabbing, wage nabbing blues.

You can never win, but you can lose, blues.

Dig deep into your pockets & cough it up.

Drop your donations into the IRS cup.

Uncle Sam needs a new pair of shoes.

I got the big time tax paying blues.

 

There is little left for the little guy.

The irony of it is kind of wry.

The American Dream is gonna die.

If you don’t pay you’re gonna fry.

Where’s the answer to this mess.

There is no answer would be my guess,.

You can only pay more, never less.

The whole system sucks, I confess.

 

If I never paid a dime

then I would have the time

to live the good life.

I would have the money for

all the things I have wished for

without the IRS strife.

 

I have been on the soapbox.

I have checked my vote box.

I have yelled and screamed.

I have really caused a scene.

Yet, I MUST pay before I play.

That is your tax laws today.

There has got to be a better way.

There is nothing else I have to say.———R. W. Johnson—–(2014)