Nostalgia – Page 2 – Word Smith Wisdom

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

I am headed for home after many years.

If I can find my way through all my tears.

Things are not the same as they used to be.

Much has changed. Some very recently.

A fire has wiped out much of the town.

There are many new buildings around.

Home is not what it used to be.

Much of it is different to me.

I head out of town toward my home.

A small farm where I have grown.

There it is looking much the same.

It is like an old friend in name.

I feel the old nostalgia here.

This is home. That is clear.

I have been away far too long.

Now, I feel like singing a song.

I felt rocky till I arrived here.

This old farm takes away all my fear.

It is you in the doorway that I see.

I feel your fingers feather soft upon me.

I taste your kisses, sweet as honey.

I was gone, just to make some money.

But, the real riches are here in my arms.

I am overwhelmed by your charms.

I am home to never roam again.

Here with my lifelong lover and friend.

—————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

The Mystery Of Mountain Mike

The Mystery Of Mountain Mike

Mountain Mike was a mountain man.

Hunting and trapping in mountain land.

Making a living from selling the furs.

He had his rifle and a mangy cur.

He would be gone all year long.

He would hunt and fish till game was gone.

He was friends with most of the Indians.

Even so, he would seldom see them.

One day he found a girl, nearly dead.

Her parents died of a disease, it’s said.

She was starving, went looking for food.

She was in a severely depressed mood.

Mike nursed her back to health.

In his one room cabin, built for himself.

After a few months, they became friends.

She called him father in the end.

He taught her to fish, hunt, and trap.

Prepare the fur for taking back.

Taking back to the outpost to be sold.

Then buy supplies for the winter cold.

She became an expert shot.

Better than Mike, when really hot.

He was very proud of her.

Dressed her In their very best fur.

They were a team. They worked well.

Herding game to nature’s hell.

A box canyon where they were trapped.

Taking the best game was a snap.

They didn’t kill for fun. Only to eat & survive.

Selling furs kept them alive.

They would fish to feed themselves.

They were where nature dwells.

Several years passed by.

Then, Mike was injured in a landslide.

She drug him miles to civilization.

On a cot made for the occasion.

People were amazed by her feat.

When done, she was still on her feet.

Mike recovered with medical aid.

After a month resting in the shade

they headed for the mountains then.

One year, they were never heard from again.

But, their rumors will never die.

Others said they saw them bye and bye.

No one could say for sure.

Yet somehow, they got a supply of fur.

—————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

The Road Of Progress

The Road Of Progress

It was late on a very dark night.

It was coming, just out of sight.

Down the road, it was said.

A monster lurked. It was red.

Then, it was on the road.

Charging fast, smoke billowed.

It roared like an angry lion.

Its eyes glowed. I ain’t lying.

The year was 1901.

I dropped my bottle of rum.

I took off through the woods.

I was running as fast as I could.

It growled and flew on by,

down the road with an eerie cry.

What the hell was that thing?

It smelled like smoke and gasoline.

I was shaking in my boots.

I ran home for a gun to shoot.

I went back and waited for it.

I heard it coming lickedy split.

I fired several rounds into it.

It swerved and did a flip.

It was lying on its back.

Smoke was raising. It’s a fact.

Slowly, I approached the beast.

There was a body underneath.

Then, I saw it was a machine.

Then I woke up from the dream.

I had to call it a nightmare.

It was scary as hell, I swear.

Later I went out to the road.

Strange tracks there did unfold.

Like wagon tracks, but wider.

I took a swig of apple cider.

I needed something stronger.

I can’t take this much longer.

So started the automobile age.

Similar storied were the rage.

So, don’t be shocked, if today.

Something strange comes your way.

—————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

Live With It

Live With It

You know it.

I know it too.

There has to be something better for me and you.

We tried.

And we cried.

We thought we did all that we could do.

Things suck.

Were in a rut.

We both are feeling down and blue.

We need a change.

That much is plain.

Just sailing away would be pretty cool.

In the end.

We comprehend.

You can never run away from you.

———————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

The Easy Life

The Easy Life

Out here the wind always blows.

That just seems to be how it goes.

A windmill makes my electricity.

I had it built for that explicitly.

Tumble weeds went tumbling by.

There was not a cloud in the sky.

Daydreaming was my pastime.

No motivation. It’s not a crime.

A windmill pumped my water.

Worked as faithful as my daughter.

Just her and I live out here, you see.

For her mother passed away on me.

Not a lot to do. No phone to talk through.

TV is mostly hit and miss.

The internet doesn’t exist.

We both do a lot of reading.

Occasionally, we will do some weeding.

The garden does well, if watered right.

The stars are really bright at night.

We will pan for gold, if in the mood.

Mainly, we are concerned with food.

It is a life not meant for all.

My daughter has been here since real small.

She was taught here at home.

Smart as a whip. Tough as bone.

One day a young man stopped by.

He was polite and acted shy.

He had plans to start a wind farm.

Lots of windmills with lots of arms.

Generate power for the city far away.

Said it would pay off big someday.

In the end we cut a deal.

We would be partners on this field.

He was right. We made a lot of money.

He married my daughter & called her honey.

As for me, I’m still here.

I kick back with a cold beer.

Watch TV, thanks to a satellite dish.

I still read whenever I wish.

But, most of all, I like to daydream.

Listen to the wind and scheme.

I could do more with my life, but I felt.

Ya can’t please everyone so ya got to please yourself.

—————————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

Rainy Days

Rainy Days

Rainy days, they are here to stay.

They remind me of that special day.

The day we met, and so it started.

Still together, we haven’t parted.

Even on the day we got married.

It rained a lot, but we didn’t tarry.

Rainy days are our special days.

We go to movies and see plays.

We stay at home and snuggle too.

We just enjoy whatever we do.

You name it, we’ve done that too.

We don’t live in a flood zone.

We don’t have to save our home.

We just make the most of it.

It seems to help our love to grow.

Wonderful blessings seem to flow.

Too much rain isn’t very good.

Still love will grow, like it should.

Rainy days and Mondays are around.

But, they never get us down.

For us, it is a magical time.

Makes us feel like we’re in our prime.

I don’t know how rain makes you feel?

Like a cat or like a seal.

One hates it, the other loves it.

I hope, for you, the one that fits

is the one that makes you pleased.

Not the one that will make you sneeze.

——————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

Christmas Is Here

Christmas Is Here

It is warm and cozy within the bed.

The house is colder than an outhouse shed.

There is no form of heat in here.

Just the oven or electric heater, I fear.

Central heat and air has been out for years.

Almost too cold for Christmas cheer.

But, the spiked egg nog warms the gut.

Soon, you feel like you’re out of the rut.

Your cheeks are rosy, you’re feeling good.

You’re starting to feel like you should.

You start wrapping presents and things.

It is not as bad as it seems.

You send out a batch of Christmas cards.

Put some decorations up in the yard.

Christmas spirit is warming things up.

You play Christmas music and other stuff.

Before long, you’re ready for the day.

Everyone gets together and all say:

“Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”

You all take a drink of Christmas cheer.

You exchange presents and open them.

Praise the tree with all its trim.

Later, you have a Christmas dinner.

Yummy enough to last you all winter.

There is enough love all around

for each of you to not wear a frown.

In our hearts we each remember.

The birth of our savior on this December.

We are happy for each and all the family ties.

Then we are yelling, “Bring on the pies.”

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Day Tripping

Day Tripping

See the little boy by that tree.

I wonder what just happened to me?

Something happened on the other side of town.

Why are you going around wearing that frown?
Fractured flickers is a crack up in time.

Oh, how I wish that you were mine.

Let’s go see how much gold we can find.

My thoughts are spinning. I’m losing my mind.

Tell him to go to the little boys room.

Thoughts are flashing. Gone way too soon.

I know there was a bank robbery today.

Lost some money? You don’t say.

My thoughts are jumbled, jumping around.

I was so happy with the new love I found.

There was nothing. Just rocks and mud.

Relieve yourself properly. O.K. then bud.

Whoa,—– it is finally slowing down.

My thoughts are settling to the ground.

What a trip. Once is enough for me.

Let someone else drink that tea.

——————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Shutdown In Bed

Shutdown In Bed

It happened on a day when all was right.

Two hot cars, looking out of sight.

The day was here for the big race.

They both would give it all it takes.

My fuel injected Sting Ray and a 413.

Revving up their engines and sounding mean.

When the flag went down we were off.

All the smoking tires could make you cough.

He was getting rubber in every gear.

But, I was still out front without any fear.

All was just a blur as scenery flew by.

He was getting beat by ’that other guy.’

‘That other guy’,—- meaning me.

I was ahead, and all could see.

He had a ram induction, but it’s understood.

I had a fuel injected engine sitting under my hood.

Just before I won, I woke up in bed.

What were these dreams in my head?

I don’t race cars. I’m way too old.

I would never do something so bold.

Must be a flashback of childhood dreams.

Brought on by The Beach Boys “Shutdown,” it seems.

That song made me feel alive back then.

Now, I’m dreaming I am at it again.

————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

One Of These Days

One Of These Days

One of these days.

I will write my memoirs.

I will try to really say

how it really was.

I will try to lay it on the line.

How I felt deep inside.

Talk of times that were fine.

Talk of offspring with pride.

Mention the bad times too.

Times I would like to forget.

Yet, they were part of me & you.

Times I can’t really regret.

One of these days.

I will really reminisce.

Talk of the different ways

things changed to progress.

There is much to be said.

It all happened along the way.

It wasn’t all in my head.

It was just any old kind of day.

Except for all we did and said.

We had fun in different ways.

Vows were respected when we wed.

They were called the good old days.

One of these days.

I will set the story straight.

Open the eyes of all who stay.

Pull up a seat and don’t be late.

If you have wondered about the past?

Often thought about those times.

Wondered why they didn’t last?

I will tell the truth this time.

Tell just how it all happened.

What brought an end to the good old days.

I won’t vary it a fraction.

The reason is hard to understand today.

One of these days.

————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)