mystery

Am I Looking Back To Sea?

I had the dream again.
Not a bad dream,
But an odd dream.
I have it often.
I’m on shore, and looking at
The Lighthouse
On Partridge Island.
And
As I sit there,
I wonder what I am doing
On the Island.
(You’d think I could have
Dreamed up a spyglass).
However, now awake,
I plan to turn my dream
Into reality.
I made everything right

At the Lighthouse.
And I made sure Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as night

With one white mitten,
Was played with, and fed.
I walked him to my dorey
So he’d know I would be away,
And
Away I went.

It’s a peaceful row,
The sea is calm,
The distance isn’t great.
The biggest chore

Is climbing up
From the rocky shore,
To settle into the comfort
Of the trees.
But, I did,
And I did.
I sat upon
A grassy perch
And looked back
With my spyglass.
What did I expect to see?
What revelation did I hope?

Well – yes – I wanted to see

Paw, my cat/kitten.

And he did not disappoint,
Though he revealed no secrets,

He did the same damn fool
Leaps, and bounds, and rushes
From place to place.
I spied no secret trysts.
I was, however, myself
Taken by surprise,
When Michael, the Mi’kmaq Indian,
Approached my seating place.
He used no stealth,

For I would have never heard him.
He asked no questions.
I handed him my spyglass.
He adjusted it, and peered.
Many minutes passed.
He handed it back to me.
“Wild cat,” he said,
“Got Glooscap in him.”

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2024 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

05/17/2024 0

Buddy’s Ghost Was At The Theater And I Almost Said Hello

I once related the story of seeing my long-dead uncle driving past in a car. A learned, and much older gentleman, told others that I had had the common experience of seeing dead people. Up to that point, I didn’t know it was common. I’m not sure it is, as no one else has mentioned it to me.

But, at any rate, I saw Buddy’s ghost at the theater last night. It still takes me by surprise, though it no longer startles me. And I didn’t say “Hello”, because I thought it would startle the person, dead or not.

And a theater was the right place, for Buddy was an actor. A professional actor in his younger days, with a country-wide reputation. When I knew him, he had settled into being a theater/acting/directing teacher, affiliated with a university. He still did some turns on the stage. His advice was sought. His company was enjoyed. His personality was appreciated. Never boring. Never a bore.

And he was a damn good chef. And a great story-teller over his meals.

And, at the theater, when I saw his ghost, there was his hat. Buddy could be a snazzy dresser. This guy was a snazzy dresser – stood out in the crowd – though I only saw him but the once. Not unusual that. I didn’t expect to see him again. I never saw my uncle again, either.

And – when all is said and done – I didn’t really have anything to say.

“How’s it going?”

“Well – you know.”

“How’s it going?”

“Well – you know. Much as you expect.”

“How’s it going?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

I didn’t really expect to be told of Elysian Fields or Thrones of Gold or What is in Shakespeare’s tomb.

So, I didn’t approach him, and say “Hello”. And make him turn around.

And – in truth – a day later, I’m not so sure about the hat.

02/12/2023 0

Wotz Been Did & Wotz Been Hid 4 Friday 13th

I wish to state before this assembled multitude;

This packed house;

This captive audience;

That I have every right

(as much as each of you)

To be here

To represent my interests;

My justifications,

My associations,

Because

I am a member

In every day,

And,

Perhaps

Even on nights which are too cold.

And then the elevators,

(as they so often do)

Stop.

You look askance.

Indeed, you look at me

In that manner

That indicates the corners of your eyes

Are full of mistakes.

Which proves to me

Beyond and above

– to heaven even –

To the very Golden Gates,

Where various saints

Hang to the golden bars

And swing to and fro

In the Celestial breezes,

Which cause clouds to scud across the sky,

And there is barely time to think of a reply.

01/13/2023 0

Is it Putin, Is It Trump, Is It Musk Knock Knock Knocking On The Door?

he first claw was so faint upon the door he barely raised an eye from the page.

It could have been the wind – it sounded almost like the wind.

Wind at other times. and in other places, might blow such a sound – but not this night.

As his thoughts returned to what lay before him, the tiny scrabble, hesitant at floor level, moved slightly to the right, aligning itself more closely to the doorknob.

The noise skittered up the wood, making a metallic sound. His head swivelled toward the door. The first thought he had was for the paint.

He could sense, by the sound alone, the movement was groping in the dark It was unsure where it was. He closed the book on his lap, still keeping his place with a finger.

His eyes remained fixed on the door. He thought he saw the light of his lamp glint off something through the keyhole.

The doorknob twitched – a slight movement counterclockwise. Then a brief turn clockwise. He let the book slide down the side of his chair as he put his hand into a pocket. He felt the key between his fingers. He held it tightly.

There was fumbling with the knob, muffled sounds as if a grip was hard to get. The knob turned once more, and then the pressure on the outside was released. He could hear shuffling against the wood. Then he saw, through the keyhole, light reflecting off a muddy iris.

He stared back through the keyhole, only to see the eye blink and move slowly away. He started to rise from his chair, but was stopped by a thump near the floor, as if a clumsy foot had bumped the wood by mistake.

He realised all the sounds he heard seemed uncoordinated. The doorknob was once again twisted, but the motion seemed to lack an ability to grasp.

He was wondering whether to turn out the lamp, when a hesitant, hollow knock came upon the door.

~ DE

11/17/2022 0

Is it Putin, Is It Trump, Is It Musk, Knock Knock Knocking On The Door?

The first claw was so faint upon the door he barely raised an eye from the page.