wichitarick - Hello Poetry

Votes For Notes Choosing one style from an unlimited pile is as hard as Diamond or making a square Rock Roll Collective collaborations create unique feelings individually or in community, music has Magic to be heard not seen Unlike sights we are left to feel sounds, Hidden charm inside a subtle chime, fledgling feelings grow from a bass down low expanding beauty upon a listener's soul Begin life in searches, nursery rhymes to funeral dirges, endless players add constant layers competition for compositions adding more jewels to our Crown To the Dead I am Grateful, gatherings of folkies & Yokels expanded our vocals not left steaming & screaming like my Metal head friends, new found Freedom gathering ticket stubs by the pocketful Rockers often scream of taking life to an edge in dispute of which way their soul should pledge leaving us alone in the lyrics to roam, internal interpretation often sifting each listeners reasoning Hillbilly humming solo guitar strumming, a mixed medley I feel fondly, fond of Chet's precision style, violin or Banjo a sure win ,styles changing as I mature Always searching feeling fuller when it is found, limitless vibration forms vibes within me grooves given and received, Sixth sense flowing internally helping to align mentally Life in a song is better than trying to maintain without one, it is to the words or sounds I aspire looking outward to keep my mind "Out of the Mire" R.C.

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Sep 18, 2022

Sep 18, 2022 at 3:34 PM UTC

Votes For Notes

Votes For Notes Choosing one style from an unlimited pile is as hard as Diamond or making a square Rock Roll Collective collaborations create unique feelings individually or in community, music has Magic to be heard not seen Unlike sights we are left to feel sounds, Hidden charm inside a subtle chime, fledgling feelings grow from a bass down low expanding beauty upon a listener's soul Begin life in searches, nursery rhymes to funeral dirges, endless players add constant layers competition for compositions adding more jewels to our Crown To the Dead I am Grateful, gatherings of folkies & Yokels expanded our vocals not left steaming & screaming like my Metal head friends, new found Freedom gathering ticket stubs by the pocketful Rockers often scream of taking life to an edge in dispute of which way their soul should pledge leaving us alone in the lyrics to roam, internal interpretation often sifting each listeners reasoning Hillbilly humming solo guitar strumming, a mixed medley I feel fondly, fond of Chet's precision style, violin or Banjo a sure win ,styles changing as I mature Always searching feeling fuller when it is found, limitless vibration forms vibes within me grooves given and received, Sixth sense flowing internally helping to align mentally Life in a song is better than trying to maintain without one, it is to the words or sounds I aspire looking outward to keep my mind "Out of the Mire" R.C.

11

Pathway Providing an edge to tarry or toil open pathways to anywhere Like brooks connecting streams that flow into bigger rivers Their history limitless as they connect footsteps, unite people or disconnect them mystery laid upon each square Corner to corner varies widely whether local or foreign, goal of each walker differs Walkways perpetually taking second place to a street that carries the name, standing as middle ground between the house and a thoroughfare Gates can say OH WAIT or come on in bordered by fence of all flavors, always friendly with the footpath while adding totality to a structure Tykes on trikes in training, Rises or falls caused many a bicycle blunder, either is fulfilling leaves lasting memory whether experienced or beginners So many Hellos to neighbors or strangers a nod in passing payment to them for an unknown cause opening a chance to give a dull day a little luster R.C.

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Aug 13, 2022

Aug 13, 2022 at 12:56 AM UTC

Pathway

Pathway Providing an edge to tarry or toil open pathways to anywhere Like brooks connecting streams that flow into bigger rivers Their history limitless as they connect footsteps, unite people or disconnect them mystery laid upon each square Corner to corner varies widely whether local or foreign, goal of each walker differs Walkways perpetually taking second place to a street that carries the name, standing as middle ground between the house and a thoroughfare Gates can say OH WAIT or come on in bordered by fence of all flavors, always friendly with the footpath while adding totality to a structure Tykes on trikes in training, Rises or falls caused many a bicycle blunder, either is fulfilling leaves lasting memory whether experienced or beginners So many Hellos to neighbors or strangers a nod in passing payment to them for an unknown cause opening a chance to give a dull day a little luster R.C.

9

Paid To Paint It Black Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack Would I be put asunder left in constant wonder if just one door might be painted another color Red resembling rust always a bust, thoughts of other color not left to wonder Various hues bring other views while dark stands alone, many reasons to color an entrance from religious to obscure All my clothes winter or summer refaced with rust or flat primer or pleasing pigments of charcoal Solid steel adds a secure feel, brass hardware a subtle but luxurious appeal, Noticeable link for a criminal buffer Many other iron projects to clean paint or polish, paint black doors on Friday to have the weekend to dry, not to dismiss how security was our main goal ..........Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack.......... Had a hidden dream a bolder color besides flat or gloss charcoal tones, last day I should have played leaving just one passageway purple or magenta showing more contrast with my blue collar Buried in rust always a plus, paycheck never lacked as long as I didn't slack, often heard **** on the radio SCREAMING ..........Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack..........

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Jun 25, 2022

Jun 25, 2022 at 11:56 AM UTC

Paid To Paint It Black

Paid To Paint It Black Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack Would I be put asunder left in constant wonder if just one door might be painted another color Red resembling rust always a bust, thoughts of other color not left to wonder Various hues bring other views while dark stands alone, many reasons to color an entrance from religious to obscure All my clothes winter or summer refaced with rust or flat primer or pleasing pigments of charcoal Solid steel adds a secure feel, brass hardware a subtle but luxurious appeal, Noticeable link for a criminal buffer Many other iron projects to clean paint or polish, paint black doors on Friday to have the weekend to dry, not to dismiss how security was our main goal ..........Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack.......... Had a hidden dream a bolder color besides flat or gloss charcoal tones, last day I should have played leaving just one passageway purple or magenta showing more contrast with my blue collar Buried in rust always a plus, paycheck never lacked as long as I didn't slack, often heard **** on the radio SCREAMING ..........Another Red door my job is to paint it Black, they are never done always two more on the rack..........

13

Screen Door Always Open Flashback of a slow train on a narrow track, visions from a car window or old pickup truck Memories of tasting dirt roads and noisy toads, taking it all in while old wheels spin Arrival looks like a revival minus the Bible, Wind washed home between railroad tracks next to a river bank Juvenile sensations sensationalized, taste of mulberry, watermelon, Kool-Aid in Tupperware, refinery a constant scent of tar or diesel, Smell of whitewash not political yet, waiting line at the tire swing Barefoot brings bee stings, soft familiar feeling of clover between toes, whiffle ball for all, plenty to do for me or you, willingness to play holds highest rank More fun catching bait than avoiding the old bait and switch, Lessons laid out and kept separate like hooks on a trot line, uncaring for the memories these days would bring Collecting sunshine brings blistering burns, red skin clashes with red hair, grass stains and heat show no pain, remove both with wonders of the wash tank No hills but a few Dales, Lakes and streams in between, Grandma Nellies reward a penny for each dandelion dug endless fodder for young hands to wander, like a merry-go-round little minds spin and spin Few recollections of adults they must have been bored, stayed in shade porch protected, order by age from front to back Melancholy notes drifting down from meadowlarks or mourning doves, mixed country or Beatles on a.m. radio, sights, sound, tastes enter, mark unique imprints on our soul, carried softly to the end No future lost when unknown, will we miss it when it's gone, Ciyfied now to those old folks I still give a bow, next time we see an old house with the screen door wide open is more family's adding to memoirs to their masterwork R.C.

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Jun 12, 2022

Jun 12, 2022 at 2:46 AM UTC

Screen Door Always Open

Screen Door Always Open Flashback of a slow train on a narrow track, visions from a car window or old pickup truck Memories of tasting dirt roads and noisy toads, taking it all in while old wheels spin Arrival looks like a revival minus the Bible, Wind washed home between railroad tracks next to a river bank Juvenile sensations sensationalized, taste of mulberry, watermelon, Kool-Aid in Tupperware, refinery a constant scent of tar or diesel, Smell of whitewash not political yet, waiting line at the tire swing Barefoot brings bee stings, soft familiar feeling of clover between toes, whiffle ball for all, plenty to do for me or you, willingness to play holds highest rank More fun catching bait than avoiding the old bait and switch, Lessons laid out and kept separate like hooks on a trot line, uncaring for the memories these days would bring Collecting sunshine brings blistering burns, red skin clashes with red hair, grass stains and heat show no pain, remove both with wonders of the wash tank No hills but a few Dales, Lakes and streams in between, Grandma Nellies reward a penny for each dandelion dug endless fodder for young hands to wander, like a merry-go-round little minds spin and spin Few recollections of adults they must have been bored, stayed in shade porch protected, order by age from front to back Melancholy notes drifting down from meadowlarks or mourning doves, mixed country or Beatles on a.m. radio, sights, sound, tastes enter, mark unique imprints on our soul, carried softly to the end No future lost when unknown, will we miss it when it's gone, Ciyfied now to those old folks I still give a bow, next time we see an old house with the screen door wide open is more family's adding to memoirs to their masterwork R.C.

14

Inspirational sounds Words or sounds placed perfectly plinking away lightly then reaching down deep to mold my soul Grand day! YES it was when "Songs" was first heard, like adding lotion to raw emotion too tone and soften Distantly aware what effects have taken over like musical magicians each word or note plays a different role Humble as my hearing is, connected to a mind that was put into timeless bliss, change my mind instantly from loathsome to AWESOME Painter of words blending hues with many expanded views help to set my mind in motion, giving freedom to my head and new control My Heart not Fragile nor thrown Roundabout more as a welcome sedation feeding inner elation, setting a Mood for A Day at the Heart of the Sunrise an expanded spirit no longer an option Going on a venture with a Star-ship Trooper brought Perpetual Change to All Good People who were ready to listen, a new school for our senses to enroll Mindset of placidity falling backwards needs a JOLT not some lovesick potion a mental message to my Neurons, brain released from pain like a prisoner without a warden Not looking for forgiveness or to be forsaken but to give the Love that can be taken, pleasing memoir painted upon our soul They say NO I say YES, I need visionary friction to feed my addiction, the release will appease, mentally tease shift a rift excite and encourage, elation shows as a gift my mind has a new watchman R.C.

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Jun 5, 2022

Jun 5, 2022 at 7:03 AM UTC

Inspirational Sounds

Inspirational sounds Words or sounds placed perfectly plinking away lightly then reaching down deep to mold my soul Grand day! YES it was when "Songs" was first heard, like adding lotion to raw emotion too tone and soften Distantly aware what effects have taken over like musical magicians each word or note plays a different role Humble as my hearing is, connected to a mind that was put into timeless bliss, change my mind instantly from loathsome to AWESOME Painter of words blending hues with many expanded views help to set my mind in motion, giving freedom to my head and new control My Heart not Fragile nor thrown Roundabout more as a welcome sedation feeding inner elation, setting a Mood for A Day at the Heart of the Sunrise an expanded spirit no longer an option Going on a venture with a Star-ship Trooper brought Perpetual Change to All Good People who were ready to listen, a new school for our senses to enroll Mindset of placidity falling backwards needs a JOLT not some lovesick potion a mental message to my Neurons, brain released from pain like a prisoner without a warden Not looking for forgiveness or to be forsaken but to give the Love that can be taken, pleasing memoir painted upon our soul They say NO I say YES, I need visionary friction to feed my addiction, the release will appease, mentally tease shift a rift excite and encourage, elation shows as a gift my mind has a new watchman R.C.

12

Craving The Color Is it and wonder we crave the color Many angles to finagle our desire, beauty or scent heartfelt softness of each petal Nothing simple why their symbolic from pompous too bucolic, varies from culture to culture Bold as gold Crimson luster exudes from a cluster, shared by saints or signs of a devil Gardeners pay a price when handling the bramble, drops of blood reflect each blossom, beauty is worth the gamble Favorite tint carries a hint of wisdom, white as purity, mellow yellow brings joy, BIG and BOLD or pastel is soft and gentle Countless days dependent on the image meshed with chocolates become almost redundant, sinners or winners they are laid across the saddle Bride and groom enter a room share in the passion, her rosy cheeks polished pink, Piano softly plays "The Rose " making each feel special ! R.C.

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Jun 1, 2022

Jun 1, 2022 at 4:52 AM UTC

Craving The Color

Craving The Color Is it and wonder we crave the color Many angles to finagle our desire, beauty or scent heartfelt softness of each petal Nothing simple why their symbolic from pompous too bucolic, varies from culture to culture Bold as gold Crimson luster exudes from a cluster, shared by saints or signs of a devil Gardeners pay a price when handling the bramble, drops of blood reflect each blossom, beauty is worth the gamble Favorite tint carries a hint of wisdom, white as purity, mellow yellow brings joy, BIG and BOLD or pastel is soft and gentle Countless days dependent on the image meshed with chocolates become almost redundant, sinners or winners they are laid across the saddle Bride and groom enter a room share in the passion, her rosy cheeks polished pink, Piano softly plays "The Rose " making each feel special ! R.C.

11

Camouflaged Caskets Best of a generation first to shout with passion, didn't stand idle ready to march to battle Cemeteries more famous than the quarrel, become markers for its members Personal diary lost in history, now next in line of people mixed in raw data Mausoleum, crematorium even more buried at sea, just a mark on a map where they take their final nap, they lie alone in that zone whether airman soldier's or sailor's Hearse did roll so silent , not a hint of anything violent, Tears flowing have a universal language, sounds like rain marking pain, form a storm covered by dark clouds Paths of life mixed in strife, roads paved with headstones sealed with blood, marched on by friend or foe, they become a still frame in someone's mind Real lives in disguise, their destiny not discreet, many tags moving, dog tags on top, toe tags on bottom, So many wars largest given numbers Disturbing ritual never ending vigil, Final decision a true gamble, no trial it is final, certificate for family's wall is all that is signed, do those crosses stand as symbols Who will know in the end what was right, under the scope does their life bring hope, does the death bring Peace with honor, are they now a new generations instructors Does dirt disguise their demise, death mask worn like a fashionable veil, flag on a casket worn as a shroud hides a soul's pride, connects all cultures takes all comers, final march guided by deaths Angels. R.C

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May 30, 2022

May 30, 2022 at 6:17 AM UTC

Camouflaged Caskets

Camouflaged Caskets Best of a generation first to shout with passion, didn't stand idle ready to march to battle Cemeteries more famous than the quarrel, become markers for its members Personal diary lost in history, now next in line of people mixed in raw data Mausoleum, crematorium even more buried at sea, just a mark on a map where they take their final nap, they lie alone in that zone whether airman soldier's or sailor's Hearse did roll so silent , not a hint of anything violent, Tears flowing have a universal language, sounds like rain marking pain, form a storm covered by dark clouds Paths of life mixed in strife, roads paved with headstones sealed with blood, marched on by friend or foe, they become a still frame in someone's mind Real lives in disguise, their destiny not discreet, many tags moving, dog tags on top, toe tags on bottom, So many wars largest given numbers Disturbing ritual never ending vigil, Final decision a true gamble, no trial it is final, certificate for family's wall is all that is signed, do those crosses stand as symbols Who will know in the end what was right, under the scope does their life bring hope, does the death bring Peace with honor, are they now a new generations instructors Does dirt disguise their demise, death mask worn like a fashionable veil, flag on a casket worn as a shroud hides a soul's pride, connects all cultures takes all comers, final march guided by deaths Angels. R.C

12

Speaking Thinking & Drinking Lifes Knowledge taken from many avenues from sweat equity or upper college Courtesy easier to hide in writing, voices carry many tones, simple clatter rising, levels GROW as the beverages flow More we imbibe the less we subscribe to Emily Post, wisdom and manners begin to blend with verbal garbage Tongue twisters become more tasteless as the head gets more wasted, uncaring we become part of the local show More we drink the less we think, simple minds make companions easiest, tomorrow far off behind that mental blockage Did Hemingway think he would make a future A.A. quote, Wonder if his liver were about to quiver or the blood alcohol levels were about to overflow Speaking, thinking and drinking can become a mess in a sentence, if mixed the wrong way they might require bail, be cautious what you wish for under the mistletoe Will we recall to hold back the words at the next happy hour, or as always, a few ounces will have us hollering like it was our last rodeo. R.C.

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May 24, 2022

May 24, 2022 at 12:25 AM UTC

Speaking Drinking, Thinking

Speaking Thinking & Drinking Lifes Knowledge taken from many avenues from sweat equity or upper college Courtesy easier to hide in writing, voices carry many tones, simple clatter rising, levels GROW as the beverages flow More we imbibe the less we subscribe to Emily Post, wisdom and manners begin to blend with verbal garbage Tongue twisters become more tasteless as the head gets more wasted, uncaring we become part of the local show More we drink the less we think, simple minds make companions easiest, tomorrow far off behind that mental blockage Did Hemingway think he would make a future A.A. quote, Wonder if his liver were about to quiver or the blood alcohol levels were about to overflow Speaking, thinking and drinking can become a mess in a sentence, if mixed the wrong way they might require bail, be cautious what you wish for under the mistletoe Will we recall to hold back the words at the next happy hour, or as always, a few ounces will have us hollering like it was our last rodeo. R.C.

10

Histories Mystery Lost in the past a life known to few covered by new souls who did not know their true roles She never made a plan blind to a future she could not scan, ways of life not always pastel and paisley Was her howl the only one that day, how much the cost for penance paid, SIDS or SUDEP still unknown acronyms Was it the sandman or monster under the bed, was left as mystery to me, secret family history Did her last caress fade to black, soul left in silence, hidden grief no relief, left alone blind to life's challenges After the Four Horsemen deliver their message nothing else matters, angel of death laughing at her misery Secret soul like a fly on a wall but a White elephant in the room no one spoke of those unseen, left to ponder if Mom ever wondered about the lost narratives I was told to LIVE for today, You're living your some-days today and tomorrow, left alone with no memory does not define synergy Left in the dark, No new light of that night, Mangled memory did she always feel Unforgiven? Mom's secret left without answers Alone we were left to Ride The Lightening, full of energy and unique but always that internal mystique, Her actions mercy left as fodder for the antagonists She never came clean of what was seen leaving a lifelong question but there would be no ME without Rick Lee. R.C

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May 21, 2022

May 21, 2022 at 9:41 AM UTC

Histories Mystery

Histories Mystery Lost in the past a life known to few covered by new souls who did not know their true roles She never made a plan blind to a future she could not scan, ways of life not always pastel and paisley Was her howl the only one that day, how much the cost for penance paid, SIDS or SUDEP still unknown acronyms Was it the sandman or monster under the bed, was left as mystery to me, secret family history Did her last caress fade to black, soul left in silence, hidden grief no relief, left alone blind to life's challenges After the Four Horsemen deliver their message nothing else matters, angel of death laughing at her misery Secret soul like a fly on a wall but a White elephant in the room no one spoke of those unseen, left to ponder if Mom ever wondered about the lost narratives I was told to LIVE for today, You're living your some-days today and tomorrow, left alone with no memory does not define synergy Left in the dark, No new light of that night, Mangled memory did she always feel Unforgiven? Mom's secret left without answers Alone we were left to Ride The Lightening, full of energy and unique but always that internal mystique, Her actions mercy left as fodder for the antagonists She never came clean of what was seen leaving a lifelong question but there would be no ME without Rick Lee. R.C

13

Black Room In the Black room with walls of black curtains when my mind was vacation Starlings became personal darlings, Dark eyes gather no moonbeams Holding back all daylight, Dark blocks the vision like mental images in remission Stuck in this Pace with a mysterious shadow, where Grey would seem bright no glow on the edges You cried NO ropes could hold you, NO ONE would scold you, still left in the darkness with a mind and body in detention Bought the ticket, covered all windows, Create a sad time putting my own mind on vacation " As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning" Create a new Line, unknown waiting, for a lost train, restless withering Ghosts unseen, traces of those faces hide from themselves, Shadows outside always creeping Party with a rough crew, her smile a hint of kindness in the dark night Old wounds left open, never forgotten, like scary traces where the shadows talk to themselves Return to a jungle mindless dark eye, time for redressing open new windows, unfriending Starlings Letting light into the dark, creates new shadows that are no longer afraid of themselves. R.C.

0

May 13, 2022

May 13, 2022 at 11:59 AM UTC

Black Room

Black Room In the Black room with walls of black curtains when my mind was vacation Starlings became personal darlings, Dark eyes gather no moonbeams Holding back all daylight, Dark blocks the vision like mental images in remission Stuck in this Pace with a mysterious shadow, where Grey would seem bright no glow on the edges You cried NO ropes could hold you, NO ONE would scold you, still left in the darkness with a mind and body in detention Bought the ticket, covered all windows, Create a sad time putting my own mind on vacation " As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning" Create a new Line, unknown waiting, for a lost train, restless withering Ghosts unseen, traces of those faces hide from themselves, Shadows outside always creeping Party with a rough crew, her smile a hint of kindness in the dark night Old wounds left open, never forgotten, like scary traces where the shadows talk to themselves Return to a jungle mindless dark eye, time for redressing open new windows, unfriending Starlings Letting light into the dark, creates new shadows that are no longer afraid of themselves. R.C.

14