Calvin of Como

A Book of Poetry and Prose

(wid a li'l dis, a li'l dat an' some doze)

~~~~~~~~~

Hand-to-Hand with the Cell Phone

© 2001 Calvin Harrell

There she was, stopped in the right lane of a busy highway.

I was stopped behind her.

After a courteous amount of time, I beeped my horn.

She moved forward and turned into a side road and stopped.

She still was blocking my way, so after a courteous amount of time, I beeped my horn again.

She moved into the entrance-way of a drugstore, and stopped again.

She still was blocking my way, so I beeped again.

Finally, she moved into a parking space, and I moved in beside her. (I had a prescription to fill.)

Out of curiosity, I looked over to see if I could determine why such odd behavior. Was it a medical problem? Was it dizziness? Maybe too much to drink?

No, none of the above.

She was in hand-to-hand combat with her cell phone!

It obviously was a brand new play-pretty, and for the life of her she could not figure out how to work the dad-gummed thing and drive, all at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~

Poetry is . . .

A poem is a word picture,

That must be handled with care.

Give them ruffles, flourishes, flair,

Then presently, you will be "there."

With soul-search feelings, with gut-wrench pain!

Emotions will timbre your thoughts, but not in vain!

And just the right word, will drive you insane.

A poet has to write, right from the heart.

'Cause not to do so, is smart not to start.

Keep writing, editing, thinking.

Soon your offerings will begin to mold.

And when finally finished, will have the ability

To capture the heart, and mind, and soul.

~~~~~~~~~

Bluebirds are Happiness

© 2001 Calvin Harrell

A few weeks ago, while standing in my front yard in Evergreen SC, I saw a mocking bird chasing a blue bird all over the place.

I was totally surprised because I did not know any were left. I had not seen one since we lived in The-White-House-Up-The-Cedar-Tree-Lane in Como. I thought they were gone due to loss of habitat.

The chase went on hot and heavy for several minutes, then the blue bird gave up and left. The incident was soon forgotten. However, a week or so after that, Ginny and I were in Myrtle Beach browsing through the Salvation Army bookshelves and there, right before my eyes, was a 1977 National Geographic magazine with details on how to build a blue bird house.

For the princely sum of 25 cents I took my treasure home and immediately started to locate some scrap lumber and get busy. It took me all day Friday to build the house, which is not difficult. The hard part is to get the entrance hole exactly 1 and 1/2 inches wide.

Then where to mount it? The plans say to put it on a fence post about five feet up. That did not seem to be the best place. I put it on my security-light pole about seven feet up, with the idea the birds cannot tell the difference between five feet and seven feet.

I wanted to be sure the snakes, squirrels, 'coons etc. could not get to them. No way was I going to have marauders bothering my birds. I mounted the box on Friday and the very next morning there was Father Blue Bird already inspecting my/his new house. Words cannot express how proud I was. My feet touched the ground every third step the rest of the day. Then on Tuesday morning, three days later, there were Father Blue Bird and Mother Blue Bird sitting on top of the security light, excitedly discussing their new home.

After twittering for awhile, Papa Blue Bird flies down and inspects the house. Then he goes up and tells Mama Blue Bird all about it. Then Mama flies down and inspects it. She then goes back up and agrees with every word Papa has said.

I could not understand their language, but I did not need to. It was plain to see that it was all about love. Love for each other and love for their new house. But love is not just a word anyway. It is a warm indescribable feeling you get when you help them find a house for their babies, and they in turn help you have a nice day.

~~~~~~~~~

Air Force Blue

Their commander is bigger than life, he knows his men real well.

They, to a man, will follow him through hell.

They seek not wealth, nor fortune, nor fame,

Happiness . . . is reaching skyward, on ninety feet of flame.

Playing tag with thunder, racing with the sun,

Then home to a hearty "Good job. Well done."

C-square and some vittles, maybe a letter from home.

Then to the sky again, to look and search and roam.

To check and challenge "Charlie," to keep America free,

To make life, and love, and liberty, safe for you and me.

Each one of you, is an example-setter,

Here's to you, Air Force Blue, 'cause no one does it better.

~~~~~~~~~

Calvin and the Haint

Who dat? I know you dair!

I can feel you, in de air!

You can talk, but I won't lissen,

You can moan, and make me hasten.

Hurry home, 'fore it gits late,

'Cause moss and bushes,

Dey start taking shape.

Inside de house, still aint safe,

Got to find, a better place.

Creakin' stairs, could do harm,

Think I'll sleep, in de barn.

Hosses and chickens, don't got no haint,

I jist want to git, whair you aint!!

~~~~~~~~~

Dieting!

Juicy steaks and "stuff," all rich and dreamy,

Lots of side dishes, mostly thick and creamy,

A high ol' helping, of thick, gooey dessert,

Another plateful? Surely won't hurt!

Fewer "sittings" are the answer, my friends,

We all will benefit, in the "ends."

Weight clinics here, wild promises there,

Are about as true, as growing hair!

Few people would continue, to grow and "blossom,"

If they would strictly stick, to collards and 'possum!

P.S. ~ Did you ever notice how few people go back for second helpings of possum?

~~~~~~~~~

Mama had a rooster so big and so mean that when he laid eggs it didn't take but 10 to make a dozen. He was a bad dude!

Some folks said it won't no rooster, 'cause they can't lay no eggs! Some said it was a hen acting like a rooster! Some said it was a rooster acting like a hen!

But one thing is for sure, we will never know, 'cause Mama got tired of the whole dad-blame mess and had Daddy cut his/her head off and we had fried chicken for Sunday Dinner.

Note: Even in death no one had the nerve to turn that dude upside down and check the plumbing to make sure of what he/she/it was.

Good eating, though!

~~~~~~~~~

No Smokin'

My lungs are friends of mine,

They stand by me through strife.

As a matter of fact,

I owe them my life.

To clog them with nicotine,

Would be unthinkable,

After all ~

I am sinkable!

Food wouldn't taste as good,

My smeller wouldn't smell.

Missing the aroma of chocolate.

Would be living hell.

I could never excel in baseball,

Nor go for that long touchdown.

A strenuous game of tennis,

Would make me look the clown.

The ski slopes would tire me,

My hockey puck would stick.

I just thought of something,

A neat, healthy trick.

I won't start to start with,

I will treat my lungs real good,

And exercise daily,

As we know we should.

With my lungs healthy,

I can run like the wind,

Forevermore ~

Me smoke ? What for ?

~~~~~~~~~

The Rebel Poet

He caint write good, and he knows it!

But he tries it! Then he shows it!

Has a tendency to falter and teeter;

Knows not one dern thing, 'bout cadence and meter.

Sometimes dots the I's, maybe crosses the T's ~

But it's him; and he aims to please.

Writes about dippin' dope, and smuggling arms,

And showing the ladies, all his charms.

Couldn't care less if it's rain or fair,

Ol' Reb is almost always, sure to be there.

There's a rainbow! He'll go find the end,

"They" were already there, a thousand and ten.

Went West hunting wild adventure,

All he found was ~ unhappiness and censure.

"But," said the Wolfe, "You can never go home."

Don't want to ~ just likes to ride and roam ~

And one thing must forever be true,

You aint him, and he aint you.

~~~~~~~~~

O.D. (Death of a Drug Addict)

Long black train, with your whistle blowing,

Don't stop for me now, 'cause I aint going.

I see your smokestack puffin' ~ I hear your tinklin' bell,

I see your firebox glowin' ~ fiery pits of hell.

Your fare is awful steep ~ Do I have to pay?

It's so much more fun, just to stay and play.

Just another snort, just one more, please,

Careful now, don't make me sneeze.

A few more pills, maybe a little pot.

I can charge it ~ Oh! Thanks a lot.

I feel good now, riding the solar wind,

Out among the stars, near my journey's end.

Long black train, with your whistle blowin' ~

Don't stop for me now, 'cause I ain't going!

~

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