He Must’ve Been A Good Man

July 25, 2011 at 11:01 am · Filed under Poems, Some truth to it ·Tagged author, Charles L. Mashburn, he must have been a good man, http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2011/07/poetry-potluck-week-45-nature-and-life.html, life, nature and life, story, writer

If I might be allowed to be my own worst critic—as I usually am—I contend there is a major flaw in the poem that follows, that being the length of it. I prefer poems that are much shorter, mostly because when I read poetry, my attention span is short. I’m very impatient, as many of you well know. That said, I believe this to be a fairly decent write, and if you find your way to the end of it, I hope you can consider your time well spent. I might also add that this poem was first a story. I do that once in a while, when I think something I’ve written has the right feel to it.

And one other thing: this is my second post to Jingles Poetry Potluck for week 45. I normally only post one; mostly because I don’t write much poetry any more, and don’t want to run out of good ones. Well… I think they’re good. Hope y’all do, too.

He Must’ve Been A Good Man

The sun was hiding

behind white-laced, dark gray clouds

that sped in from the west

patches of blue-gray sky peeked through

now and then

The breeze was cool

compared to most mornings lately

the humidity was down, too

The folding chair was uncomfortable

but bearable

A murmuring rose and fell

as those around me held brief uncomfortable conversations

not sure if they should be talking at all

and if it was permissible

what topics could be breeched

Some leaned in and spoke in whispers

eyes darting to others around them

red and fearful

what are you looking at

An elderly woman sat alone in the front row

using her program as a fan

eyes straight ahead

looking at the erstwhile stage

It’s a play, I thought

flipping my tie then smoothing it

a habit I can’t break

A play where the audience must be silent

no applause

even though at times it seemed appropriate

not even a “praise the Lord”

or heartfelt “amen”

was to be tolerated

You wouldn’t be asked to leave or anything

but your fellow watchers would give stares

that would make you wish you could

The breeze picked up

as if someone had turned the A/C fan up a notch

I glanced heavenward and mouthed a silent thank you

The thought occurred to me

the leading man in this play

the curtain was about to go up on

the last act, as it were

must have been a good man

I didn’t know him

he was the grandfather of a co-worker

I came out of respect for her

or support

however that goes

I thought surely this man

must have been a blessing to his children

grandchildren, and friends

maybe to everyone he met

for the chairs on the grass were many

and filling fast

The church had been full, as well

the same people

in the same dresses and suits

one young man in Levis and a golf shirt

nothing wrong with that

I guess

The murmured conversations lessened

then ceased

the whir of tires approached from behind us

A bee fell from the sky—it seemed

onto the shoulder of the woman

sitting in front of me

Some turned to watch

as the long black hearse came

others bowed their heads

as if not wanting it to come

Perhaps trying to hope it away

denial the way to make this moment not so

It came

backed slowly to the stage

a satin-covered hole

man and machine had prepared

earlier this morning

Six men appeared

and slid the gleaming mahogany coffin

from the back of the long car

rested it on supports hidden by the dark green satin

Words were spoken

by a man in a black suit

tears were cried

jaws were clenched

the drone of the preacher’s voice

blending with the traffic noise

on the freeway behind us

the audience quiet, save a random sniffle

a choked sob

When the ritual was over

the murmuring returned

most walked away

toward cars

going to jobs they’d taken the morning off from

Some stayed to comfort the family

Red eyes blinked

or were wide

above grim smiles

as empty words were spoken

words soon to be forgotten

I thought again

how he must have been a good man

God gave his family a cool day

in late July

to say goodbye

That had to mean something

It could have been blazing hot

as it had been for days

too many to count

A splatter of raindrops sputtered in the grass

Briefly

Then the sun came out

 

Copyright © 2011 C. Mashburn 

Permalink