I have nightmares every night.
I feel like I have become numb to the notion of fear.
The demons don't frighten me;
The ghouls don't startle me;
Death doesn't shake me.
But yet, I find myself now awake with tears streaming down my face.
I woke from the dream that frightens me most.
The dream that is a true reality that I live every single day.
I dreamed that I saw my love from a distance;
And that he would not knowledge my existence.
No grins peeking from the side of ones mouth,;
Not even a wonder form ones eyes.
You sat there as I stared at you
Silently begging for you to see me and end the pain.
I live my greatest fear every day.
The cold shoulder you give
Sends the dagger deeper into my heart.
Math really sucks
That we all know
So why are words
Our greatest foe?
Was it my hair?
Was it sex?
Was it my smile?
Was it that I annoy you?
Did you think badly of me?
And just not tell me?
I thought about how lucky I was.
To be right there with you.
Not anyone else,
I thought about when you were going to kiss me.
How it would feel,
Would it be by surprise?
Just stop me midsentence,
Look me in the eyes,
Then the mouth,
Get really close,
Look me in the eyes again and,
At its greatest.
Our two mouths collide,
And it’s perfection because,
The way you kiss makes it like I’m the only one.
Then it ends.
And I go right back to knowing that,
She’s there too.
That’s what I thought about when I looked at you.
What did you think about when you looked at me?
Don't be sad.
Don't be blue.
Today is extra,
It's as if today
Were made for you!
So don't be sad,
And don't be blue.
For a while.
Than a smile.
It turns sad faces
And then you do
Not feel so bad.
And a kindly word
When spoken there
Can catch a
And for the
We get to share
The softest smile.
The sky is bright -
The robins sing.
Just listen to the
Song they bring.
The breeze is crisp
As morning dew,
And oh so extra,
And on days like this,
You just have to smile,
And spread around
A bit of cheer!
And that cheerful lot
Is still in style,
Especially when shared
So, don't be blue,
And don't be sad.
Don't be angry.
Don't be mad.
Share a grand old
And chase those
Pesky frowns away.
Copyright © 2013 By Richard D. Remler
for my Aunt Shirley
Fervis F. Ferville
Of South Street, North West
Could count, count, count, count
With incredible zest!
He was a very good counter,
And he would not hesitate!
For he would get up real early,
And he would stay up real late
Counting everything that could
Be owned by a Mouse,
As long as it could fit
In a little Mouse House.
And with his Shadow as Witness,
He would begin every day
Counting each little grain
Of his Bucklewheat Hay.
He would sound out each number.
That’s just what he’d do!
And he would always begin
All of his counting with “Two.”
He would count every minute
On the clock on his wall.
He then counted the hours,
The Seconds, and all
Of the in-between moments
That we never admit
Have a smidgen of good
Honest counting in it.
He then climbed very carefully
On his ABC blocks,
And counted each button
Safely tucked in its box,
Which came right to twenty-one,
All quite safe and sound.
The Greatest Button Collection
That a Mouse ever found.
Then he counted his fingers,
And he counted his toes,
His counting-type eyes,
And his counting-type nose.
He counted his ears,
And he counted his knees
And he smiled with pride,
For Fervis was pleased.
He had counted two eyes,
And one counting-type nose.
He had counted two knees,
And two stringy elbows.
He had counted two ears
That hung over his head.
And he counted the stripes
On his little Mouse bed.
He had counted each whisker,
And every brow of his eye.
And then he turned his attention
To his french fry supply.
There were twenty-two long ones,
And thirty-four short ones,
Ten busted-up ones
And eighteen athwart ones.
And there were his books,
Lots of books on a shelf
That he hid,
For he wanted them
All to himself.
With his vast and unique
Set of Counting-Mouse Skills,
And the speed and agility
Of trained Whippoorwills
He counted and counted,
And counted them all,
Every book he could find,
Every book that he saw.
All the big ones
And small ones,
And the tall ones,
Every green one
And blue one
Each old and
Each new one.
He counted his Nickets,
He counted his Nukks,
He counted every one
Of his Poppletoff Pucks.
He counted his ear lobes,
Then counted his keys,
And recounted every one
Of his ones, twos and threes.
He counted with such
A fine skill and finesse
That he proudly turned his attention
To Checkers and Chess
And he counted each Rook,
Every Bishop and Queen,
Every foul little Knight
That tormented his King.
Every Pawn en Passant,
Every possible move,
Oh, he counted them all
If only to prove
That he, as a Mouse,
Could indeed hold his own
When it came to a fine
Game of Chess in his home.
The very next thing
He would count were his socks.
He took great care of them.
So he unlocked all the locks
On his Secret Sock-Drawer,
And he counted each Two.
Then he seemed rather puzzled
When he was finally through.
For yesterday’s count
Came to Thirty-Eight pair.
Which meant that one pair was missing!
Yes, Missing! But where?
Now, this called for a re-count,
Something a Counting-Type Mouse
Does all of the time
In his little Mouse House.
So, Fervis F. Ferville,
In his perfect Mouse timing,
Counted and re-counted
Without even rhyming!
The Two and the Four
And the Six and the Eight!
He counted each sock
Until it seemed rather late.
Then he sighed as he sat
In his little Mouse chair.
And he took a deep breath
With a haunt of despair.
And he thought:
Never lose track of socks.
They never forget their neckties
Or popcicle blocks.
They do not misplace their Hourglass,
Or lose track of the time.
And Counting-Type Mouses
Are on time
All the time! ”
He fuddled and fudged,
And scratched at his ear,
Took a deep breath
Just to let his mind clear.
And he spied at his Shadow,
Who had nothing to say,
Who simply shrugged long
In its shadowy way.
So, he counted again,
Very slowly this time,
Sounding each number out,
Every succinct little rhyme.
Every four, every two,
Every ten, every eight.
Every twelve, and each twenty,
Until it was later than late.
“This simply does not make sense, ”
He mumbled to himself.
“Where could they be?
I’ve looked on every shelf.”
He searched through his house,
Very high, then down low,
Every place they could hide,
Every place they could go.
He looked deep in his cupboards,
And inside every jar.
He searched as close as he could,
And then he searched far.
He looked in his freezer,
And then in his hat,
On nights such as this
Mice will do things like that.
He hunted deep in his closet,
And then in every shoe
That he kept always ready
Underneath his canoe.
He searched up the small staircase,
And then down through the vent.
He hunted inside his chimney,
And above the bell tent.
He looked behind every picture
That hung on his wall.
And then he decided
To check behind his baseball.
He searched through his Bob-Bobbers,
And inside his fly sheet.
And, just to be safe,
He looked down at his feet.
And his eyes peered so narrow
He bit down on his lip,
And he twizzled and twozzled
Every single toe tip.
There were his socks,
Safely there, rightly put
As well as can be
On each little Mouse foot.
He hadn’t lost them at all,
And they hadn’t lost him.
They’d been there all the time
Very proper and prim.
And Fervis F. Ferville
Jumped up with a snap,
He sang out a “Woohoo, ”
And he let his toes tap.
He danced with a jig
And a biggillowigg,
With his toes hanging out.
He looked at the clock
That hung high on his wall,
And he stretched out, refreshed,
Like a porcupine ball.
And Fervis F. Ferville adjusted his tie.
And breathed deep the evening air.
"Why-ever have I been so distraught?
This simply does not seem fair."
I have every toe, every ear, every sock.
I have every number that ticks on my clock.
I have every whoo that has ever said hey.
It is a grand and new, wonderful day.
And wonderful days, as the story is said-
Are filled with those numbers that dance off the head,
And tap tap tap wonders of yellow and blue,
Wonders that shimmer much newer than new.
And he smiled so warmly the evening shined,
As though Fervis had one more adventure in mind.
He spied his fine Shadow, on the dash of a whim,
And his top secret Shadow spied right back at him,
And then Fervis F. Ferville so calmly called out,
"I've counted one hundred eleventy-two!
And that's a very fine count, an impressive amount.
I am certain I've counted much higher than you.
But his Shadow just leaned against the far wall,
Unwilling to join in the foray.
Shadows never re-count a good count,
Not when there's still time for Shadows to play.
And Fervis agreed.
For a fine Mouse was he,
Oh, there was so much more
To counting young Fervis could see.
And he smiled a wide smile, fine as any wise Mouse,
And returned to the joys of his little Mouse House.
Copyright © 2010 By Richard D. Remler
'I still find each day too short for
all the thoughts I want to think,
all the walks I want to take,
all the books I want to read,
and all the friends I want to see. '
i've felt the presence of both the holy, and the extremely
i've experienced sorrow of the greatest kind; the kind that hinders the heart and relentlessly leaves you in a river of your own tears.
i've experienced pain, grief, remorse and brutality.
i've experienced love of the grandest quality; the kind of love that leaves you with a belief in
i've experienced the ecstasy that coincides with feeling another person's touch on your skin.
i've experienced the holy grail of your being and the complete blasphemy of mine.
i've experienced what only i have been able to interpret as greater than this universe.
i've experienced so much in a short while, but that does not discount from it's power.
i've experienced you and me, all in our most naked form.
i've experienced a life that was intended and created for a very specific reason; a reason that i am connecting to more and more each day.
i've experienced hatred and scorn, but i've also experienced love and praise.
i've experienced more than sometimes i feel i should, but one day the answers will unveil themselves to me.
i've experienced all that i have and all that i know, and while i know that there's a long way to go, i have experienced what i believe was meant for me.
and i'm certainly more than fine with
I don't want success. I want significance. I yearn to touch everyone. Explore their deepest fears, darkest secrets, most passionate desires, and beautiful weaknesses. My heart cries to save us all. I can't live for science. For math. For facts. I live to watch you breathe while you sleep. I live to stroke your spine and reassure you that it will all be okay. I live to trace your scars with my fingertips and leave my swirling prints on your skin forever. I live to give you hope for the present and future even though the past still glimmers menacingly behind your eyes and threatens to tear you apart. You are imperfect, and to me, you couldn't be more perfect. You have a purpose. You are beautiful because you don't believe it. I want you to know I love your every flaw. I love your every failure. I will go to the end of the world to rekindle your inner fire, and that is all I need. Now I know that success will never make me whole. I only crave to kiss your wounds and make You while again. I ache for you to understand you are significant and I want to touch your life in an invaluable way that resonates in your dreams, thoughts, and hopes. I am intelligent, that will die along with my appearance and worldly accumulations. What will survive? What will distinguish me in this infinite circle of life-ominous and inescapable? I live to discover my purpose. I will fight to save you from a mortal fate six feet under, and that alone will save me. It is the greatest thing I could ever ask for.
Darkness will fall but we will not. I always thought my most destructive fault was my obsession with fixing the broken, but now I know it is my only chance to overcome the monotonous pattern of life and death.
Romeo fought in a battlefield..
Won himself titles and golds
A standing ovation, applause and praises to Romeo ,
People bowed with great respect...
Walking proudly with his head held high...
ROMEO... Known to the world as a fighting HERO.
With one strong hand holding a sword..
And another arm hugging his trophy..
ROMEO was proudly declared as the conquerer of the world..
Countless of wars he won...
Thousands pieces of lands he conquered
Houses were burnt down
Women were captured, raped and murdered..
Hundreds of children were made orphans
Families were torn apart...
Despite the talked about bravery and persona
Indeed ROMEO was a murderer ..
a blood thirsty serial killer....
So Romeo must die....
Once upon a time in history..
A great fierce man called ROMEO
Of all the battles he fought, he won..
One last battle he did lose
A piece of heart he failed to win
The heart of a woman he desired..
Imagine a disgrace of The world toughest man
Succumbed to His greatest weakness ,
Melted his cruel evil heart..
Begging for The love of his life...
A woman he truly loved ...
ROMEO ... A man she truly despised...
.. a total rejection what a shame..
Depressed... ROMEO lost the thirst to try...
SO ROMEO MUST DIE......
"Let's put a band together and make a million bucks."
With that statement, you changed billions of lives
You were a true friend of a tormented poet
The greatest bass player ever, who didn't play guitar
Two hands moving separately, one playing melody, the other rhythm
The leader and backbone of the poetic, soul rock band
The Door gently closed on Ray Manzarek
On May 20, 2013, nearly 40 years after Jim
"This is the End. My only friend, the end."
As the keyboard's melody drifts away
And the bass organ thunders on
"Riders on the Storm"
There are no magic memories
Fit to fix an old man's soul,
Or time befuddled bunnies
Traipsing down a rabbit hole.
There is no pot of gold, I'm told,
At the rainbow's end.
Nor an Alice fool enough to call
The Queen of Hearts her friend.
There is no quest for Camelot
Unsinged by writer's block.
Or a Pan within a labyrinth
Dispensing magic chalk.
There are no Gnomes, no spirit keys,
No dragon wars, no trees that sneeze,
No roads paved in that yellow brick,
No fairies darting low and quick
Through enchanted dandelion seas
Alongside the Everbetter Bees.
There are no mountains draped in gold,
Nor pixie dust bright as the stars.
No armored bears to fight a cold
Just to gain some battle scars.
There is no cheese upon the moon,
No mermaids deep in a lagoon,
Or pirates haunting Neverland,
Nor flying carpets o'er sea and sand.
No segacious wizards wise and fair,
No time-traveling rocking chair
Until that wild winding wind we share
Showers imagination here and there,
Up, up high and down below,
In places gently capped with snow,
Where every wiley fuss will know
All the greatest memories go.
There are no wonders left to see
Until somebody sets them free.
And that's where Carroll inspires me,
And I get so lost in young Barrie.
Where one rides a magic alligator,
Dahl flies in his glass elevator.
Where Genie's kindly grant a new wish,
Geisel shares his "one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,"
To my Muse, that is the grandest sight,
And why I am compelled to write.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"I can believe anything provided it is incredible."
~ Oscar Wilde