Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2015
O' no I feel them, there back again the heavy pain I feel inside my heart
when I wake up, that is when- all the shaking inside of me begins to start.
An enemy of mine who tries to win all the time never will he conquer, for I have a new plan.

Through your soothing comforting written letters I receive with all your heart felt written words. Will you keep writing, will you help me? for if not, I will surely lose this mental fight.

Overpowering what my nightmares can do I take you with me and to it, a special place daydreaming all day long and all about you.With your help I can win this insane fight till then, I tell myself, I'm not in here, I'm home with you tonight.

I hate the feelings I have all inside so no one can see me, under my prison blankets... I cry and hide:(
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2015
They were first used by the Aborigines who lived in the outback
Made out of a hard wood, if it is thrown just right it will return, come right back.
When molded out of plastic it then takes on the shape of a playful toy
Being a witness and unto all it's magic, children in amazement are now filled with joy.
As for me, I make mine out of a three by seven inch prison commissary envelope. I throw with all my might- praying that you receive all my beautiful heart felt words that are written, that's all I hope.
Envelopes soaring high and into the heavenly sky I want you to know, no longer will they ever have to take me again away and nor no longer will you ever have to cry.
Thank you so much for filling me with your loving hope,
owe it all to you-because, you threw back to me a love filled boomerang envelope.
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2015
I was in prison and protected by his loving will
as if in a trance, I visioned I was taking a test.
Studying his words so I can live out a much better life
I now see , I had to live out a predestined quest.

Reading from his book of instructions
I see I was in so many a story
(a)which is the earnest of our inheritance until the redemption, unto praise of his glory.

Day after day, minute by minute and hour hour by hour
everyday you shown me your forgiving love and I felt your Holy Power.Turning the pages for I can't help but to take a look,
I wash my hands with myrrh and every-time before I pick up your Holy Book.

Cross referencing the scriptures, the New with the Old
it's the source of my power behold, look at the energy I now hold.
Completing the circuit the electricity now begins to flow
It gives me the daily volts I need and through my faith, I now glow.

Never had I cried unto you when I found that my back was up against the wall and I know that is why I get through to you every-time, when I call. You've shown me countless signs and many marvelous wonders all along my path, if I turn my sights and away from you now, I know I can expect to feel your whirlwind wrath.

The Lord had taught me hard, but yet he taught me well and for that, this is the story to my children I will forever tell.

(a) Ephesians 1:14 KJV
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2015
Heed these words, write them upon the tablet of your mind for I have returned.

When you finally come to the point in your life and comprehend that the dreams with which you have been bestowed are to be used as a blueprint, you then and only then will win remarkable success in what ever calling that you adopt. You will begin to visualize things with a much greater understanding and you will experience sights stranger than you have ever seen before. You will know that these new visions are all true, for you will see that you have been given the ability to pick out and notice clusters of confirmations and on an imaginary scale. The fear of premonitions and ignoring notable occurrences by dismaying them all off as if they are just figments of your imagination is to be avoided. It is not out of random chance, the thought that things are bound to line up from time to time and for no apparent reason or that evolution had a major impact on us to evolve into begins to recognize pattern recognition, but rather, it is to be construed as if you have been blessed with the gift of foresight and you will notice that you are able to think and speak things into existence. Never again will you live with the fear of the unknown for you will know all. The truth of all things will manifest themselves and be disclosed to you in a vivid clear contrast. There will be many people who will find it extremely difficult to interpret what is being explained to them and in the process they will then start to display that they are trapped within there own gridlocked mind and be confused with just your mere presence. You will find that people who do not understand you will then try to get you to conform to what they see, ignore them. Life is but an enigma, one that is full of complex-ed riddles, when you accept to follow your dreams and with an open objective you will then have the opportunity to harness all its power and in return all the pieces of the puzzle will be spread out for you for your taking. Once you find the first piece, you then will be given the license required to take part of this phenomenon so you can complete life's grander picture found outside the ivory tower. You will know with all certainty that you are not dreaming and that what you are witnessing is not a mirage, that is until, the silver cord be loosed, after that, when death finds its way to sting and the grave can then claim its victory, welcome and accept a Re"quies'cat In Pa'ce.

As always, Welcome to the show!
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2014
As I slowly drift asleep and then start to close my eyes
Every night I talk to him, because he never lies.
Amazing me each and every time with his wonderful power
He shows me his true strength for I try to talk to him for about an hour.

I ask for not much, just the simple things in life
Protection for me, my children and my future wife.
Blessing me with seven gifts the beautiful family I can hold
I’m not gambling it all away, here are my cards, and I now fold.

When in times of need and when you neither are nor near
I then invite you into my dreams and look, you did hear!
Four times in my life I invited you; four times you were at my side
Soaring high above our sleeping bodies, soul mate spirits now glide.

Embarking on many journeys I go on so many dreaming quests
Is this heaven or is it hell? Or are they all just nothing but major tests?
My eyes are now opening and on the ends they stand all of my hair.
Another gift I now possess, you confirmed it, cause you showed up…
And meet me there!

(SirCARSr. 4-23-14)
Curt A Rivard Sr Apr 2014
In the beginning of the college class semester we all were asked to read and inter operate:) a poem and at the end of the semester we were asked to re-inter operate:) it and see how all of our thoughts and feelings were changed after taking a class on Death and Dying. The poem is called “The Angel of Death is Always with me” by Morton Marcus. My thoughts did not change and I took over the class with my interpretation because everyone else said it is something like a reaper knocking at your door ready to take you away.


The Angel of Death is always with me
the hard wild flowers of his teeth,
his body like cigar smoke
swaying through a small town jail.

He is the wind that scrapes through our months,
the train wheels grinding over our syllables.
He is the footstep continually pacing through our
the small wound in the soul,
the meteor puncturing the atmosphere.
And sometimes he is merely a quiet between the start
of an act
and its completion,
a silence so loud
it shakes you like a tree.

It is only then you look up from the wars,
from the kisses,
from the signing of business agreements;
It is only then you observe the dimensions
housed in the air of each day,
each moment;
only then you hear the old caressing the cold rims of
their sleep,
hear the middle-aged women in love with their pillows
weeping into the gray expanse of each dawn,
where young men, dozing in alleys,
envision their loneliness to be a beautiful girl
and do not know they are part of a young girl's dream,
as she does not know that she is a dream in the sleep
of middle-aged women and old men,
and that all are contained in a gray wind
that scrapes through our months.

But soon we forget that the dead sleep in buried
that our hearts contain them in ripe vaults.
We forget that beautiful women dry into parchment
and ball players collapse into ash;
that geography wrinkles and smoothes
like the expressions on a face,
and that not even children
can pick the white fruit from the night sky.

And how could we laugh while looking at the face
that falls apart like wet tobacco?
How could we wake each morning
to hear the muffled gong beating inside us,
our mouths full of shadows,
our rooms filled with a black dust?

it is humiliating to be born a bottle:
to be filled with air, emptied, filled again;
to be filled with water, emptied, filled again;
and, finally, to be filled with earth.

And yet I am glad that The Angel of Death is always
with me:
his footsteps quicken my own,
his silence makes me speak,
his wind freshens the weather of my day.
And it is because of him
I no longer think
that with each beat
my heart
is a planet drowning from within
but an ocean filling for the first time.

And This is What I Told the Class….

Adolf ****** and the **** SS come to mind after reading the clue riddled poem, “The Angel of Death is Always with me”. Hiding between the lines I find there are many reference points to the holocaust and feelings of how it might have felt from a prisoner’s point of view.

If my assumptions are valid with this interpretation as far as the relationship of “death to Life” is concerned, one would think that after witnessing all the atrocities that one saw in those concentration camps, one would almost welcome death as soon as possible as a way to escape from their living nightmare and be welcomed back into being a part of the earth so they no longer have to whisper softly, “We are the dead” and pray that they become a victim of an accident of birth.

I normally don’t comment on other people’s works in poetry for the simple fact that I try to jump into their shoes and try to understand just what it is the message they are diligently trying to convey to the reader, and in the doing of so, I feel that I might misunderstand just what it is they are trying to tell the world and in the doing of so I would then not be able to make the ranks of a poet with originality.
(SirCARSr. 4-7-14)
Next page