The Storyteller. J. Michaels
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cotton in the Carolina sun
Side by side with his new family of slaves
Spirit intact and returning to life
They sang as they toiled
And spoke of days gone by
Telling stories of their homeland
And dear ones left behind
The days passed, the years quickly too
John Henry grew older and slower
No longer the machine his owners once prized
Just an old man they had come to know
The plantations thrived under John Henry’s toil
Time permitted the landlords to know him well
They could not help but admire the man
Who, through the suffering and labor, stood so tall
His spirit and goodness caused them to pause
And reflect on this giant soul of a man
Even shame sought refuge
As they compared them to him
Come one fine summer day
When John Henry could arise no more
The labor and sadness taking their toll
From the man stolen so very long ago
The master came to his bedside
To say farewell to his aged property
Humbled by one of greater character
He now cried for both souls
John Henry looked on his captor from death’s door
Granting him the smile denied before
For a moment before he returned home
Brothers but for an instant
Then John Henry was no more
From the poetry collection Common Ground
Shows to Go You
I am reminded of a story, heard on television of all places.
I have turned it to the poet’s quill and here is how it goes:
A man waited on his rooftop
As the water rose round his home
He waited for God to rescue him
A small boat came by
And offered the man a ride
Yet he said, No thank you
I need no place to hide
A larger boat came roaring up
To offer the man some help
Yet he said, No thank you
I wait for my Savior to arrive
Soon, a helicopter flew over
And supplied the man a rope
Yet he said, No thank you
I haven’t yet given up hope
The man drowned
And left for the pearly gates
And said, when he saw Jesus
What the hell, you were much too late!
Jesus said what’s the deal?
I sent several to delay your fate
It just shows to go you, fixed beliefs can ruin your day.
From the poetry collection Simple Gold
My Captain’s Door
Waves are hitting hard
And tossing our ship about
The storm attacks us harshly
The fear begins to mount
The crew is less together now
Allowing fear to push apart
Maritime brothers we were
Seeming less so now
The time to pull together
Most needed in moments of peril
No other recourse given
That will save our ship of fools
And foolish we are and foolish we’ve been
But now the time approaches
To pull together mates
And awaken as one again
So I knock hard
Against my captain’s door
Yet no reply is forthcoming
Silence answers, nothing more
Crew and ship both dissolving
Amid the tough and briny assault
Hope crashing down with the fallen mast
Only dread in common now
I call for my captain
Louder still I yell
Save us from the fate upon us
Let not our journey be to hell!
My voice finally failing
To bring the captain out
My heart and ship are breaking
Finally Heaven’s name I shout
My boys pause in their terror
Knowing a divine call had been made
Leaving despair for a moment
Hoping again the storm might fade
A sailor believes in miracles
At times his only way out
Believing in man or captain
Insufficient counter to the ocean’s rage
But mighty sea or thundering skies
Cower down in deference
At the call to a higher power
And make ready to obey it
The maelstrom subsided
The sea at peace again
Men’s hearts calmer now
Having witnessed the divine friend
A Captain of larger stature
Who would never fail us again
From the poetry collection Common Ground
The Great Belgium Belch Off
The crowds gathered at sunrise
To witness the annual event
The gathering of all great gas bellies
Belching here and there they went
Warming up for the day’s competition
Drinking soda, beer, and air
Hoping to inflate sufficiently
And retain the belches spared
The crowds grew large and clamored for more
Of the greatest belchers Belgium had ever known
This tiny country with little claim to fame
Playing host to intestinal foam
The contest began at last
Belchers