Africa Calling

Africa Calling

Noel Laflin

1-27-16

Johnnie and Bonnie, two charming lasses, came to Africa on a whim.

 

They told their boyfriends that they needed a holiday, just the two best friends, and that they’d be back at the end of the month.

They fell in love with the continent instead, and had already overstayed their promise of return by six months at the time of our meeting, some twenty years ago, in a remote national park in northern Zambia.

I was privy to their confession of adventure as we sat about a campfire late one September night listening to the call of lions on either side of our encampment.

“And then there was Tanzania, and the climb of Kilimanjaro,” Johnnie enthused, taking another swig from the bottle of wine we passed about one to another.

A lion roared in the distance.

“Noel,” you need to come back next year, after the rains, and promise that you’ll do the climb with us,” said Bonnie. “One can fall in love up there,” she sighed.

An answering bellow from across the ravine punctuated the impromptu invitation.

“We know the way now,” chimed Johnnie.

 

The call of the first big cat sounded closer now.

“We’ll still be here,” said Bonnie, taking hold of Johnnie’s hand.

The second cat’s roar was definitely closer too.

“What about your boyfriends?” I gently enquired, setting the empty bottle aside, and reaching for a new one.

“The lads can wait,” answered Bonnie, handing me a corkscrew.

Both lions let out such a deep and prolonged cry of distress - so close to our little fire – that I felt obliged to toss another branch or two upon the dwindling flames.

“You know,” sighed Johnnie, pulling Bonnie close, “we just may never go home again.”

The thundering silence from the dark was deafening.

Absent Friends

Absent Friends

Noel Laflin

1-22-16

A former school chum - perhaps one of my very first long-time pals in life - has alerted folks, some from as far back as elementary school, that a mutual classmate and friend has died.

The tributes and memories from an era long gone are pouring in, as they rightly should.

He was a popular boy - blessed with good looks, a keen sense of humor, an honest smile.  And he grew up to become a good man.

Should there be another formal class reunion, his name will appear on the memorial board that will greet us as we sign in and pick up our name tags – the ones bearing a grainy black and white photo of how we once looked nearly fifty years ago.

And then we’ll stop to ponder his name, along with the ever growing list of others placed upon that cold board, sadly updated over five and ten year increments.  There will be some audible gasps as we note a name and photo of a classmate for whom we were not aware of his or her passing - who was here – what, ten or was it really twenty years ago already …

When we were young we were instructed to answer ‘present’ at every class roll call.

If we did not respond, our teachers checked the ‘absent’ box next to our name on the clipboard.

There will be the pang of memory for the very ones that we had so much looked forward to seeing again – only to be told by this stark reminder of a different kind of checked box upon a very different type of board - that they would be absent this day.

My Father Taught

My Father Taught

Noel Laflin

January 13, 2016

(To note a 100^th birthday)

My father taught me right-from-wrong,

Mumbley-peg, and silly songs.

He built a clock when I was young;

I have it yet – and it still runs.

For this and more - I am quite glad,

Thank you father - miss you, dad.

Toward the End

Toward the End 

Noel Laflin

1-11-16

Toward the end of father’s life,

Ice cold water did suffice,

To quench the hunger, thirst, desire,

Of a life now low on fire.

There’d been a time when he burned,

With youthful flame and in return,

Drank from the cup we call full measure,

Thanking life for such a treasure.

But now his days were few in number,

As he slipped unencumbered,

Off to shores yet unseen,

Except of course in his dreams.

And so he had one last sip,
From the glass held to his lip,
He murmured thanks to those who held,
Elixirs cool - the thirst now quelled. 

.

Took the Hurt

Took the Hurt

Noel Laflin

1-10-16

A kind lad told me long ago,

Veiled in a cry, whispered low,

'I'd take a hurt - never give one.'

Soft the words from one so young.

I knew the fear, recalled a past

When love was lost in a lapse. 

And so I promised not to be,

The one to hurt - nor deceive. 

But I failed in this endeavor,

Losing trust altogether.

So now you know who cried the day,

He took the hurt - walked away.

A Wiser Soul

A Wiser Soul
Noel Laflin
1-10-16

I met Old Scratch late one night,
At a crossroads in my life. 
‘I’ll wager you’re a gamblin’ man,’
Crooned the Prince of Bogey Land.

                                    

'I feel your pain, and resentment
Concerning all this discontentment. 
Let me help - I've got a plan,
Just sign right here, my good man.'

The contract seemed to be air tight,
As I viewed it in dim light,
FORTUNE, FAME, 'INDENTURED SERVICE,'
The final words made me nervous.

'I think I'll pass, Old Scratch,' said I,
Creeping backward, by and by,
Knowing now which way to go,
Heading home a wiser soul.

Nancy's Lament

Nancy's Lament

Noel Laflin

1-7-16

There once was a duck named Nancy,
Who of grooming grew ever more chancy.
She said with a quack,
'My feathers do lack,
The stuff to make them look fancy.'

Lonely Lizard Limerick

Lonely Lizard Limerick

Noel Laflin

December, 2015

There once was a lizard named Fran,

Whose looks were really quite sad.

She said with a sigh,

As she never could lie,

‘If only I could catch me a man.’

The Last Sales Call

The Last Sales Call

Noel Laflin

Sometime in Mid-August, 2014

In an office strewn with issues out of date,
He took a chair, grabbed a rag, sat the wait.
People, Time, Forbes, or Us,
It always was the same old fuss,
About tawdry stars who’d seen younger days,
Like the rep in the chair with the distant gaze.
He took a glance at his shoes,
Before being greeted with the news,
‘The doctor will see you now, good sir,
He’ll give you a minute, as it were.
I’d make it quick if I were you,
Doc’s way behind, and it’s nearly two.’
So off he strode - humming a tune,
Retirement loomed – not a moment too soon.