On a very cold period,
at the very late hour,
a little child was born,
and he brought with him all the joy
to the family, to the world
because he wasn't just a child,
that would pour all of the milk at floor
he was one of the thousands,
that would hold a pen,
between his delicate fingers,
then write everything out of his head,
to a piece of paper,
on a great wall,
somewhere at the ground,
anywhere he was around
He shaped gaiety,
at the very sorrow times
to the family, to the world
because he held the inspiration,
on his very delicate hands
he blow it on everyone,
who was around
He always leaves profound sensations,
on the heart, on the soul
He made one person smile,
ten persons fine,
fifty one on hope,
ninety three catching glee
Hello there Mike,
can you see what I see?
You made us all feel inspired,
by your little loud words
So happy birthday to you,
may the years coming,
bring the best of you
In late 1888, a Wells Fargo stage
Was relieved of its freight-
A strongbox, taken from its hold,
held thousands of dollars in coins of gold.
The brigands had a master plan,
To bury that box,
sit, and wait-
Then dig it up at a later date.
They found a spot on rock-hard ground-
Where it would lie, safe and sound,
So they sank it in a three foot hole-
to hide that box with coins of gold.
But what they didn’t realize,
that in the distance, sat a pair of eyes-
That had watched the whole event unfold-
and watched, as they buried that chest with gold.
Late that night, under a pale, lantern, light-
a shovel's blade split those rocks-
and the hole was relieved-
of that strongbox.
William Nelson Riddle, owned that property-
And he lived with a basic philosophy-
“Since it was found, on my ground-
I guess it belongs to me.”
“Nelson” died in ’28, at age of 85-
He never said what happened to,
Or if, that chest survived-
And the "Legend of Riddle’s Gold"came alive.
As time passed, the story grew-
each year, a bit more grand-
That Nelson took that strongbox-
And hid it elsewhere on his land
Greed is one of the “seven sins”-
"Everybody loses, and nobody wins"-
But the “want” for gold is a mighty strong thirst-
So his kin set out for a “family search.”
At morning’s dawn, the kinfolk came-
To search for gold, fortune, and fame-
They came with shovels, spades, and hoes-
And some “TNT”, so the story goes.
With disregard for propriety,
they descended upon the property-
Without a map, without a plan-
They spread out to search his land.
Now, the rabbits and the coyotes,
and the gophers(one or two)-
Gathered on a little knoll,
To have a better view.
They knew what was going to happen-
It was just a matter of time-
When the dew had disappeared,
And the morning sun had reached it’s prime
They dug a hole here, and dug over there-
The morning sun was getting hot-
and everywhere they looked –
Was for naught.
Now, it isn't very clear
as who said what, to who-
But it must have been insult'n-
to start that ballyhoo.
There was push'n and shove'n
and calling names galore!
Yell'n and cuss'n
using words you ain't heard before!
And that was just the men-folk-
the women got in it too-
screaming heard, from north to south-
Those words should never come, from a ladies mouth.
Fists being swung, shovels slung!
dust was kicked up in a ball-
nothing could be more entertaining-
than watching a family free-for-all!
Then suddenly, it came to a stop !
as quick as it began-
They gathered up all their gear-
and departed Nelson's land.
This is where the story ends-
all I know is what I'm told,
From my daddy, for he'd been sitting,
atop that little knoll.
(This is how I would like to have it end)
Somewhere in the "high above"-
at a table, two people sat-
One, wearing suit and tie-
and Nelson, with his beard and hat.
"Nelson, a lot of folks have you to thank,
for bringing that strongbox to the bank-
you saved a lot of folks their homes and farms."
Nelson, from his chair, arose-
standing erect, and proud-
Stroked his beard, then tweaked his nose,
smiled, and faded into the clouds.
(thanks folks for your patience)
Copyright September 16-2013 Richard Riddle
I feel very hopeless,
I feel the strength oozing out of me,
Pooling up on my bathroom floor- staring up mockingly.
I feel the vibrations of your voice, loud & clear,
They always know where to hit me, just like a spear.
I feel as if I do not belong anywhere I go,
I'm a laughing stock & guess who's the main attraction at this wicked show?
I feel my "loved ones" quickly drifting apart,
I was your rock but reality has crushed me down with a mighty start.
I feel the non believing eyes boring down,
None of you care as deeply as you claim, you'd rather I swallow my misery & hurriedly drown.
I feel you changing your mind about me,
I'm not the person you cleverly made me want to be.
I feel the stomps of your feet though I am thousands of miles far,
You make yourself believe you provided the necessary with a house & a car.
I feel the love I have for you slowly disintegrating,
It's funny how it's your world that is now changing.
I feel myself going crazy, completely insane,
& you're the only one who can carry that blame.
I feel the way this is going to end,
So let me get the blade, my old friend.
Fall in love with me.
You’ll have to do it eventually so why not me?
I promise you won’t ever find someone so perfectly adequate at it.
I can’t afford a bouquet of roses but I’d spend an entire day picking you the loveliest handful of wildflowers you’d ever seen.
I couldn’t save you from a hungry lion but I’d stay up all night making sure those noises are really just nothing.
I can’t solve integral equations but I can work out every speck of questioning in your life so you know you’ve done well.
I won’t write the next great American novel but I’ll fill thousands of pages with the stories of all the moments we spend together.
I won’t become a doctor and cure people of their illnesses but I can bandage up your cuts and kiss the bruises from your knees.
I will never appear on television or in funny movies but I’d tell you all the jokes I’ve got and make you laugh even on your darkest day.
I won’t open a five star restaurant in the city but I’ll never pass up a chance to make you a warm cup of tea on a chilly day.
I’m not studying to be a psychiatrist but I can hold you and kiss you until the monsters inside your head cease to exist.
I will not paint the next Mona Lisa but I’ll sketch the outline of every coastline you love so dearly.
I’m not a superhero and I don’t wear a red cape or know how to fly but I’ll die knowing that out of everyone on this planet I tried the hardest to save you and to make you happy and that will be enough.
Fall in love with me.
I promise you won’t regret it.
Each year for your birthday,
I'll get you a hundred balloons,
each one a different color
for every kind of face you make,
and tie them together
with locks of my hair.
And every time you sing,
I'll give you a glass jar,
with a pop top
and golden lid,
so that I can capture
the sweet honey
that drips from your teeth
when you open your mouth.
And every time it rains,
I'll give you a new pair of rain boots
that squeak and thump
with each step,
so you won't be afraid of puddles
ruining your khaki pants.
And each and every time
the world has been cruel,
leaving no room for your balloons
I'll be there with white chocolate,
to sweeten the bitterness of their sting,
with thousands of poems
written on every sea
to remind you
that you mean the world
and that the world
is full of love.
Noble, brown coloured birds
Falcons and magnificent Eagles
Flying in formation
In a bright blue and cloudless air
Soaring high above deciduous forests
Flaked with rocky outcrops and peaks so high
Flying freely, un-abridged with such nobility
A picture hundreds, thousands of miles or more
A scene so serene to grace my stained wood floor
Let the Moon spotlight
On this masquerade,
Some psalm they say
I think I’ll pray.
As my toes weave beneath
Crushed leaves and starlight imagery,
I think I’ll pray.
We hummed along to every song
We ever knew.
Licking the lyrics out on
Scattered starlit scratchpads
With the tips of our tongues.
Ink-dipped ego trips about love
Etched out top-chart carbon copies.
Our cursive grew sloppy,
But that hardly seemed to matter.
From tattered verses about fictional characters
To Hymns about God
To an aucapella exploring the difference.
Every song seemed to be sung specifically for us
And, Oh, how we both knew it
As our eyes jumped the stars and
Traced the constellations
Searching for inspiration in
The echoes of deteriorated light
From thousands of years before.
You spoke in absolutes.
To which I’d reply vaguely
And we dug up the roots of a tree
That we never let bloom;
Clawing hard and deep at the
Untasted foundation below our feet,
Despite the build-up of dirt
Under our fingernails.
But between the grass-stained knees and
The hail of stars that poured on our backs
We couldn’t find time to breathe,
So accordingly we damned the sky
And lit up another last kiss
Which we’d miss again in
A matter of minutes
And make a habit of the instance
Exploring a distance supported by
Limp wrists that gave way to
Two-ton daydreams, which always seemed
Just out of reach
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t try like Hell,
With locked-joint elbows and fingers widespread.
And while I read the symphony that the
Wind silently recorded on the back of my hand
I remembered how,
I whispered a song in your ear
And my breath gave you chills
When I got to your favorite part.
Will the Sun ignite
On this matinee?
It’s safe, they say,
Don’t be afraid.
But their water’s gray,
And it tastes like silent yesterdays.
‘Don’t be afraid.’
You closed those eyes and smiled that smile
That I write poems about.
But I shouldn’t be allowed to draw out such
Brilliant arched lips
So I sucked it back in mid sentence
Before it could drip
Through the cracks in my teeth.
I’ve chipped so much away beneath this surface
Which our toes cling so tightly to
That my bones have grown black and blue
But I’ll continue
Because this tune makes it worth it
Each time my pick-axe sparks stars when it
Collides with stone.
And amidst the skin and bone framework
Of a canopy sky, it seems to me that
You spoke about the history;
About the end of things, so many times that
For a point,
All you’d breathe is eulogies.
All our songs forgot
That the finest things in life
Truly are free.
That the buzzing of bees
Can be music too.
A tune so true
That even trees will dance,
Their leaves will cast sunrays
In rhythmic waves
Putting ripples in timelines
And making tomorrow’s yesterday
Something worth remembering.
I released my heart to the night sky
to be captured by a constellation
that of you, which I underlie
a celestial creation
I chose you, my trusting light
thousands of shooting stars arise
igniting the darkness of night
when you look into my eyes
Your smile portrays a golden key
releasing the endless love of ours
as it is softly whispered to me
through eyes of luminous stars
Though the moon fades into the sun
the night will fall again, to reunite
together as one
a star gazer and her light.
Your county, your city, your state.
War is a foolish way to obtain peace.
Forty-eight months after what survivors are the calling
the 'Nuclear Big Bang', Our Sun has still been unable to pierce the debris
in the Earths atmosphere, scientist and the rest of mankind fear the worst.
Religious folk pray to Jesus, Allah, Ganesh. Is this the end?
With foundations and institutions of once thought great nations lying in ruins
the oppressed are free from the tyranny and injustice
that have plagued their people for hundreds of years,
and are left to survive with next to no knowledge of
self preservation from being breast fed by the global monopolies
of the world.
Millions die of thirst and hunger in the blink of an eye.
Prominent elected officials, and elites
Pack up and leave their caves in crafts designed to orbit around the Earth
until conditions are stable for their pampered lifestyles.
That day still hasn't come and it doesn't seem like it ever will.
As we had ships leaving there were ships arriving by the tens of thousands,
Mankind would not be alone in the rebuilding of humanity....
there is very little that makes me happy
and there is quite a bit that makes me sad
but there's one thing that makes me feel both at once
a hurricane of tears and smiles
hundreds of butterflies and thousands of grimaces
choked back emotions and overflowing thoughts
i don't care for your friendly gestures
all i want is your lips back on mine
and you in the palm of my hands
at least while i'm still able to feel something
who am i even writing about.
all i know is that the end is drawing near.