I play a one-stringed fiddle
To orchestrate my piddle.

At St John's church in the year of 1843
The priest Father O'Day couldn't rise off of his knees
The congregation did attempt to stand the man upright
Yet he'd not be relieved of this his stuck plight

Some in the congregation checked out in the back
Hoping against all hope that it wasn't that
But the sacramental wine was filled up to the brim
Which had them wonder further as to what was wrong with him

Like the sculpture of Mary Magdalene his position was set
Of the rigid state he'd never ever forget
All the alter boys offered prayers for a solution
Being quite disturbed by O'Day's poor kneeling elocution

Was this a trance or was he deep in prayer
Given over to the circumstance did it really matter
They called up Mother Superior to ask of her advice
As it was fish Friday, she said some other time

From out of the fathers prayer book a letter it did drop
The contents in it was not news that he could readily cop
A decrease in his annual stipend had on this day been proposed
On reading about it his knees quickly became indisposed

As he wondered how he would pay for his chalet in France
Or the expensive clothes he liked to wear to the local dance
Along with his butlers and half a dozen maids
In all of his high living never once did he think to save

A litany of poor monetary decisions had brought O'Day to his knees
No divine intervention would undo his futile freeze
Coveting the high-life on a paltry priestly wage
Would awaken him to a lesson of that more like a sage

Instead of falling into all man's sinful desires
He should have first consulted with his Higher Power
We all see it so plainly there's not much you can say
Except another valuable lesson learned from Father O'day

I saw
An ant
A walk
Along
A grain
Of yellow
Sand

And as
He walked
I sang
To him
An ant-hymn
To him sing

Oh ant
Oh ant
I see
You crawl
As here
I stand
So straight
So tall

Oh ant
Oh ant
Yet as
You crawl
I am
Not seen
By you
At all

Oh ant then
Ant then
Who is small?

MChallis @ 2015

She was the only Non-Native
On staff in a parochial school,
Reservation in Montana...
The school nurse,
Working in her office,
Fighter of colds and flu,
Coverer of scrapes and bruises,
Pre-medicine expert...

A little girl stopped in to say,
"You gonna come to Mass today?"

"No, I'm a Protestant,"

Just then another student walked in:
"You going to Mass?"

"No! She's a *******!"
Said girl one.

And so it goes....

Marriage Counselor: Do you often argue"

Wife: "Sometimes"

MC: "What kind of arguments do you have?"

Husband: "Are we talking about reasonable and intelligent discussions on differences of opinion, or when the neighbors turn off their tvs, grab their lawn chairs, come over and sit in your front yard."
                
MC: (To himself) "We're going to be here for a long time."


copyright: richard riddle, June 24, 2015

I'm wearing dead man's underwear
I ask what's wrong with that
Something you see they no longer need
Where they now are at

From Jockey's whitey tighties
To boxers by the score
Don't much matter to me
What this dead man wore

With the right amount of detergent
The proper amount of bleach
Like I said four lines back
Don't matter much to me

Now please don't rush to judgement
Or my life preconceive
We all have our different ways
Of carrying on their memories

Me...I just do it in dead man's briefs

I'm a Swiss cheese man
With a life of holes.
People, places and things
Don't fall through the holes,
They are the holes.
They don't close in time;
There is an aura surrounding them,
And I'm not looking for fill.
I like my holes.
They become me.

Its shameful, and traumatic,
when your hair disappears-
Its even worse, when in the mirror-
You find it in your ears!

But, it helped me start a new career,
and one that I enjoy-
Working at the State Fair
as Bam-Bam! The Wolf-Dog Boy!

copyright richard riddle 07-22-2014

You know you're getting older
when your hair starts getting thinner-
So I stopped by the barber shop
shortly before my dinner-

I said to the barber-
"a haircut I want done",
And he respectfully replied,
"okay, which one?"

(copyright-richard riddle June 18, 2014)

-

Why can’t I see past the buildings,
skylines obstructing my view,
collecting on the curb
with doorways and steps
inviting to someone else I suppose

Still I push past,
hugging the shoulder
of a rush hour highway
Staring into windows
as they pass, staring back

Exits signs point at me
but I can’t listen
Their warnings make no difference
in cloverleaf grumblings
and exhaust fume skywriting

One foot in front of the other,
worn converse high tops
gray, the greens are lost
with the sunset that breathes down my neck
reaching for one more moon rise

No rest, still creeping alongside
sleeping 18 wheelers purring
on their asphalt mattresses,
straddling yellow lines
leading to the bathrooms…not a chance

27 miles the sign reads
in reflective lettering calling out to me
It seems like nothing,
compared to what is behind me now…
My life or what it was

But that is no longer my concern,
my future is now 22 miles away
Where your arms are waiting,
holding my future…open, warm
and I begin running faster

Another 10 to go, down main streets
with coffee shops and beauty parlours,
one traffic light and a train station
a kid on a bike delivering newspapers offers me a ride
No need, it’s just around this corner…

On the lawn is a flamingo,
plastic and pink behind a white picket fence
with a gate that creaks and a porch light comes on…
illuminating my dream…as I see you,
it has finally come true