Category Archives: Fiction and Poetry

Things from my brain



I remember laughing until I

wept; and my sides hurt,

then my heart ached


The great athlete, undersized

Ice hockey scrapper who

Would beat the hell out of

You on a basketball court

Behind the junior high, shouting

“let’s go big boy!”


His lower lip bulging,

In full concentration

While he threw a

Wiffle ball as though

Our lives depended on it


The decent guy taking care

Of mentally challenged kids over

At Cardinal Cushing

Bruised arms and shoulders his



The good friend who visited

Mom, while I was at war;

And when it was over he waved a flag

When I came home


The funny bastard who secretly

Drank virgin Mai Tais

Urging me to keep up,

Until I threw up


At West Island college

Party madness, he coldly

Grabbed a bottle and

Insisted he would eat the

Worm; only to lay down,

Incoherent in a crowded room


More interesting than he ever

Got credit for; always

Reading, discussing politics

And arguing sports until dawn


The bad influence who

Insisted we could drive

From North Adams at 2 am

When we had no business,

We changed a tire

On the Mass Pike with a

State Trooper; and it was

Fun; because we made it


The man who loved Christmas

A gift-giver and a visitor

Who liked to watch Rankin-Bass

And yes, he cried at the end

of A Wonderful Life


The Patriot who embraced America

Star-Spangled love affair

With 4th of July bursts of

Light, chomping a cigar

And no time for anyone not

Red, White, and Blue


The late bloomer, like me

After everyone had gone

He kept me hopeful, when the world passed me by –

We found another world


That world where Jim Morrison

Was always singing

And Friday night was always



That world where friends

Gathered to listen to

Each other and laugh in

The face of any agony


A world of home runs,

Of family hope, that dashed

Any thoughts other than joy;

Of Red Sox dreams and

Laughter, always laughter


Then, he went away with

A heart too big to beat


Taking unspoken conversations

With him; except in dreams

I am still with him,

And we drink cold beer and

Solve all of, and none of

The world’s problems


Everything wrong is right again

Powder Point day of

Endless sunshine and this

Day will never end

Until he stands up and

Must be going, alone


“But Chaz, I promise

I’ll see you tomorrow”


Copyright © 2021 cjcheetham

Sean “Bucky” Keane was the dearest of friends and we lost him 16 years ago. Hardly a day goes by where I don’t think of him. the memories he left me with I cherish. I am so very thankful to have known him. I will never fully get over the loss of this great man. i tried for years to write an essay or story about him – but all I could muster was this stream of consciousness poem. I loved the guy.

The Educator


You, with your machines and your smart boards
and your computer applications;
Designed to measure thoughts, ideas and
chart them; so originality
can be crushed under the volume, mass,
weight of a perfectly crafted graph
of human souls


Copyright © 2018 cjcheetham


Forever May

Struggling to her feet, May groaned and slowly walked to greet Mark in the kitchen.  She pushed her nose into his thigh and slowly wagged her tail.

“Hello girl,” he said softly as he scratched behind her ear.  She pressed closer to him wanting more.  Mark moved his hand along her side trying unsuccessfully to avoid the tumors bulging near her ribs.  May’s ears fell limp and she sighed, almost in shame.

“You’re a good girl, May.  A good girl.”

Mark filled her bowl with water and food as he had every day for the past eleven years.   She slowly lapped at the water, showing no interest in the food.  She hadn’t taken food in a couple of days now.

Mark poured himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee then sat down at the table.  May wandered slowly to her favorite spot in the kitchen, and curled up in the warm early morning sunlight.

“Morning Mark,” his father said as he entered the room and walked straight to the refrigerator.  His father packed his lunch pail with a sandwich and fruit before addressing Mark directly.  “Son, it has to be today.”

“I know Dad.”

His father looked at the floor, “It’s just that….with you leaving for college on Saturday.  You know, that dog has always been your responsibility.”

I Know Dad.”

“That was always the deal.”

Mark stood up, annoyed.  “I think I’ll take May for one more walk.”  He walked past his father and took May’s leash from the hook.  “Come on, girl.”

May stood up, tail wagging, doing her very best to be excited.

“Mark, that dog cannot be here tonight.”

“I get it, Dad!” Mark caught himself and in a soft voice repeated, “I get it.”

May nosed the leash in Mark’s hand.  She looked at him as if to say – Let’s get out of here, Mark.  Let’s go for a walk.

They went out into the back yard.  It was an unusually cold morning for August and the grass was wet.  The leash was slack in Mark’s grip as they headed for the woods behind the house.  So many times they’d made this trek, down a path they’d created together many years ago.

As a pup, there were times May would pull so hard, Mark thought his shoulder may dislocate.  Today she meandered and Mark found himself slowing his own pace so that May could still lead the way.

There was a distinct smell of fall in the air as they travelled the wooded path.  It was a smell that Mark loved even though he’d discovered that fall made him sad.  He couldn’t explain his new attitude toward autumn, since he liked school and loved football, but one day last year he found himself sitting near a freshly raked pile of leaves and that smell brought tears to his eyes.  He’d been embarrassed by that, and never told anyone.

May caught a distant scent and stopped walking looking into the woods.  Mark looked too, but he couldn’t see what May sensed.

“Hey girl, remember when you chased that white-tail out here?”  May wagged her tail.

Years earlier, May had spotted a deer in the wood line and run off crashing through the brush.  It took Mark a frantic hour to find May that day.  He was alone in the woods calling for her, with an empty leash in his hand.  He had looked skyward and thanked God when May had stumbled out the brush, exhausted and filthy.

“What were you going to do with a deer if you caught it?”  Mark smiled and May walked to him and licked the back of his hand.

By the time they got to the lake, May was tiring.  Mark could sense it, so he sat down on the split log bench and let her curl up and rest.

“Remember this spot, May?  This is the spot where I kissed Laurie for the first time.”  May groaned and looked away.  “You didn’t like her much, did you May?”  He checked his watch and then added “You sure had her pegged, didn’t you?  Disaster.”

May opened her mouth in the shape of a dog-smile.  She stood and walked to Mark, resting her head on his lap, just like she had for nearly all his life.  She looked up at him with soft brown eyes.  They were sad eyes today without a trace of the mischief that he loved so much.

Mark stroked May’s head and remembered sleeping under the stars with her at his side not far from this spot.  They would escape to the lake when Dad was hitting the bottle.   There was that summer, when they’d lost Mom, that he’d been camping an awful lot.

“Remember that, girl?  We’d sleep out here?”  May looked at him but didn’t raise her head from his lap.  “Those were good times, weren’t they?   Especially when you chased off Louie Fanza and his crowd.”

Fanza was a few years older than Mark and always looking for trouble.  One night, Fanza and his gang had shown up at the lake.  Fanza was angry and drunk.  It probably would have turned out bad for Mark, but the Fanza gang wasn’t very interested in bullying when they got a look at the large German Shepherd at Mark’s side.

“I sure hope I don’t meet any Fanzas at college.”

May stood up ready to go home.

“Listen, May.  I gotta take you to the Doc today.”  May wagged her tail and cocked her head.  “You are really sick, girl.  And I have to go to college on Saturday.  So Doc is going to make you sleep for a really long time…forever.  So, I need to tell you goodbye now.  I’m not going to cry when I take you into Doc’s place.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks.  He felt a chill as the August sun was now obscured by clouds.

“May, you’ve been so good to me.  I couldn’t have made it through everything without you.  I’m not sure we’ll see each other again.  Some people say that heaven has to have dogs or it wouldn’t be heaven.  I don’t know.  I’ve studied it and I just don’t know.  But I’d like to believe we’ll meet again.”

May jumped up in his lap, finding long-lost strength.  She licked his face and he laughed through the tears.   He wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“Come on, Girl.  We need to get back on the path.”

They walked slowly toward home.  It was getting cooler and Mark thought they might get rained on.  He spoke aloud as he walked but May ignored him.

“You know May, I’m not even sure I want to go to college.  I don’t belong in a city; I belong in the woods not in some classroom.  Maybe I shouldn’t even go.”

As they approached the trailhead he could see his darkened house.  Dad had long ago left for work.  There was Mark’s truck parked in the driveway, looming.  He’d let May ride in the cab today for sure.   Before leaving the woods Mark kneeled down and hugged her, his face buried in May’s neck.

“I wish we could stay here forever.”

He hugged her tighter, “Forever May.”

Copyright © 2014 cjcheetham

Read This Book: Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury.

Ray Bradbury, who recently passed away, is one of my favorite authors.  His dystopian tale of a world where books are outlawed, Fahrenheit 451, should be required reading for Americans in a time when political correctness threatens free speech and thought.  Furthermore, Bradbury has written some of the best science fiction and horror tales that you will find.  From the Martian Chronicles to Something Wicked This Way Comes to the October Country; Bradbury has an impressive catalog.

However, it is his loosely autobiographical book Dandelion Wine, a simple tale of two brothers growing up in a small Midwestern town during the summer of 1928, which has become my all time favorite Bradbury book.

The story is focused on the Spaulding brothers:  Doug aged 12 and Tom who is 10.  As they spend the early summer days helping Grandfather make dandelion wine.  Taking the simple – and what is often cast off as a pesky weed – and turning it into an item that brings joy; and that is really the theme of the entire book.    

Each chapter is a slice of life from small town America.  The boys’ imaginations run wild as they see magic in the world around them.  For example, after the boys listen as the local Civil War veteran regales them with tales of adventure and battle, Doug and Tom start calling Colonel Freeleigh “the Time Machine.”

Early in the summer Doug discovers that he is alive and he is excited to be so.  But as the end of summer draws near, Doug becomes despondent.  Just as the seasons are about the change – Doug realizes that his life is beginning to change as well.  He is growing up.  He is growing up and people will move away, family members will eventually die, and nothing will ever be as perfect as those first few days of summer 1928, ever again.

As I read this book, I had a lot of vivid memories of my own childhood – running around my own small town with my brothers and my friends.  Looking back, sometimes childhood seems like a dream – and certainly Bradbury infuses this novel with a dream-like quality.  As Douglas desperately tries to keep it always summer, I am right there with him, hoping he’ll somehow pull it off.  That he will find a way to make it stay forever now; eternal summer for Douglas and these carefree boys.

The book is full of incredible characters described in wonderfully funny and sad chapters.  I intentionally avoided this Bradbury book all my life because I was always drawn to his ghost stories.  But I am so glad I picked this book up and read it this year.  No, it’s not a ghost story – but it awakens the ghosts of times past, that are hidden within all of us.

I’ll not spoil the book by saying that the dandelion wine, like warm memories of family and friends, is safely stored in the Spaulding’s cellar by the end of the story.  It is
there to get them through the sadness of fall and the cold of winter. 

What a book Mr. Bradbury wrote!  I’d easily put it in my top 5 favorite works of fiction.

Read This Book: Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler

Darkness at Noon examines the show trials and executions conducted by Josef Stalin in the late 1930s.  The story is told through the sad eyes and sharp mind of Rubashov – a man imprisoned for crimes against the Communist Party and crimes against the state.

It is a fairly short, tightly written work consisting of the story a man restrained physically by a prison in the Soviet Union.  However, he is also restrained spiritually by guilt over his own participation in cruel communist executions and he is restrained intellectually by regret over his realization that everything he believed to be true as a communist, is actually a pack of lies.

Ultimately, it is a great story – an individual against all odds standing up the full-force and brute strength of a totalitarian regime.   A cruel, heartless communist regime resistant to any appeal to non-Marxist thought.

Is an individual a multitude of one million divided by one million or is the individual much more than that?  Do the ends justify the means – even if it means killing millions?  Is it better to be clever or decent?

These are some of the questions this loyal party member Rubashov wrestles with, all while being falsely accused of treason. 

Darkness at Noon is a masterpiece and it has the distinction of influencing Orwell’s 1984.

I originally read this book back in the 1980s and I am glad I gave it another read over the last week.  It is an important and profound book – and ultimately a sad story.  Especially when one considers how many people were murdered by Communist governments and revolutionaries, all promising a “more just world.”

I highly recommend it.