Monday, October 26, 2009

How I escaped from the craft store with my masculinity intact

Editor’s note: This is a work of autobiographical fiction. Some of the facts have been changed to protect the dumb, foolish and outright scared.

I was taken to the craft store the other day searching for Halloween costume brick-a brack. Two other wusses, I mean men were there and they were obviously terrified.
As they were pulled along by their female captors they had anxious fearful looks on their faces which shouted silently, “Help Me!” Glancing over my shoulder, I caught them, like me, making furtive, trapped glances towards the exits hoping to catch an unwatched moment by their torturers so that they could make a last ditch dash for freedom and the life of blissful masculinity that they once knew.

Despite my protests I was dragged further into the suffocating, poisonous atmosphere of scrap booking sets and evil-looking Vanna White crocheting books and I immediately became lost trying to discover the “finding” aisle (whatever that is). Although my lady friend Catherine had explained several times, “oh it’s where the beads and bangles, clasps and pins—bracelet wires of every description and a whole lot of other neat stuff are.” All of this useless information (to me) was enough to make my head swim with strange forbidden thoughts such as, “my isn’t that pink bauble thingy pretty” and “ oh, how that color goes so well with that other color on that shiny fabric.” Needless to say she grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me towards my impending doom. Fortunately, just as I thought that I was going to have to call my local community college and enroll in the home decorator classes Catherine said looking at me sadly, “well, since you’re sooo hungry I guess we’d better go if we’re going to get a seat at the restaurant before it closes.”

As we were leaving the woman at the cash register took my money for the costume ‘gee gaws’ I had gotten and said “ya’ll come back now, okay?” I smiled a nervous smile at her and stuffing my change hurriedly into my pocket, rushed for the front doors flanked by the huge black cat statues hoping desperately that the electronic locks would let me through. Thankfully they malfunctioned and I broke free into the cool, masculine-redeeming night only a somewhat tainted man—for now. Happy Halloween ya’ll!

Chuck Connors, October 24, 2009

Dream Girl

I catch brief glimpses of you late at night when I fall asleep.
In my dreams we pass each other, your hair flying in the wind.
Your eyes shine with excitement and
You boldly laugh at the promise of a new day.
Waiting for you seems like forever.
Yet I must wait, for there can be no other.
Will we ever meet dream girl? Or will we smile and pass each other,
Moving on to other worlds and dreams?

Chuck Connors, October 22, 2009

Monday, October 19, 2009

Zoom Zoom

A magic carpet of colors
Flying up the highest ridges
Swooping down the mountain sides
Engulfing the valleys in lakes of light

Zoom zoom across the rivers
Way up high in the air
Reflecting the reds, oranges, greens, and gold’s
Splashes of rainbow colors slide down the streams

Autumn is the season of change
Wet and chilly, crisp and clean
Trees shimmer in the afternoon light
A smorgasbord of colors everywhere

Nature performs a shiveree—
raucous celebration of the transition of life
Puts on Her wanton best; dares you to condemn Her
Picks up Her skirts, smiles and flies away

Theatrical Play

A blanket of color, a riot of rainbows
Clothes the ridges and peaks of my home
Moving beams of golden sunlight
Light up the mountains
God’s theatrical play in motion

Leaf-lookers on the Road

Sunlight slanting on the ridge tops
Burning polka-dots of red, orange and gold
A glowering of dark gray clouds

Sharpens the sunset,
highlights the colors,
gladdens the eye

Leaf-lookers like ants along the highways
clogging up traffic, taking pictures of the trees
Why can’t these gawkers appreciate God’s creation

in their own towns,
and fields?

Monday, October 5, 2009

Fairy Walking

The magic of walking under the gaze of a full moon,
leaves me breathless in its stunning entirety
Walking by your side I can think of nothing else;
the two of us wraith-like, holding hands

Our actions balanced on a knife-edge;
between two worlds—the past and the future
Small animals rustle in the leaves,
inviting us to rustic delights

What magic happens when two people meet each other,
Intersecting lives from two different paths?
Looking at you, smiles pass between us;
knowing without a doubt, what Forever means

Chuck Connors, October 5, 2009

Harvest Moon of October

Squash, beans, corn, tomatoes,
ready for the gatherin’;
summer’s bounty ripe in the fields

Full moon of October
turns night into day
Creator’s gift to help us reap the goodness

Under the light of the big fat moon;
working in the fields, gathering in the crops,
the harvesters seem more ghostly than real

Throwing the hay bales on the wagon,
digging the taters from the ground,
pulling the last ear of corn off the stalk

Put up the jars of beans on the shelf,
store the taters and apples in the cellar,
hang the gourds in the rafters to dry

A chill’s in the air, first frost’s comin’ soon;
finishing up the harvest—barn’s burstin’ at the seams
under the glow of the Harvest moon

Chuck Connors, October 3, 2009

Gateway to the West

On animal trails, aboriginal footpaths and settler traces;
men, women and children moved across the continent
Struggling through the narrow cracks in the cliffs;
twisting, winding, ever moving upwards into the clouds

Settlers trudging up from the lowlands;
into the gaps they came,
into the gaps and mountain passes,
through the open places in the Great Blue Wall

Animals and men toiling together up from the piedmont,
choking on dust, slipping on clay
Leaving the old life behind, looking forwards,
ever westward towards the setting sun

Families moving with packhorses,
sometimes a rickety old wagon
Moving a few miles each day,
making camp before dark

By the wayside, piles of possessions
folks just couldn’t carry anymore
Pass a battered dresser, an old shadow cut of grandma;
family keepsakes—left behind

Rising before light; fry some side meat, boil some coffee;
hitch up the team, move a few more miles
Each day a little closer, just a little closer
to that Eden somewhere far to the West

All those people, moving westward;
settling a continent, building a country
Would I have the courage
to do the same—today?

Chuck Connors, September 20, 2009

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Tree Frogs

Tiny tree frog, tiny tree frog,
Though there’s millions like you;
You’re unique and individual,
One of a very few

Chirping tree frogs, chirping tree frogs,
The roar of your voices drowns all;
I see you among the leaves,
Covering the tree bark in the fall

Little tree frogs, little tree frogs,
Going chirp, chirp, on a branch;
Your voices tell me summer’s almost over,
Time to get ready for winter’s chance

Dying tree frogs, dying tree frogs,
You’re lives are almost done;
Will I see you next year?
How will I know you’re the one?

Chuck Connors, September 26, 2009