Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Richard Riddle Apr 2015
Cowboys and sidekicks,
were not the only heroes
We idolized, and ran to see
at those "Saturday picture shows."

There was "Superman, and "Batman",
and that magic word, "SHAZAM."
The "cliff-hanger" serials
we hoped would never end.

There were all types of villains-
even "space invaders"-
It was then, that I changed my mind-
to become, a "Caped Crusader."

As those Saturdays passed by-
how I wished that I could fly-
And all I needed was a cape
to soar throughout the sky.

I grabbed a towel, to make a cape,
the largest towel that I could find-
And I didn't tell anyone
what was really on my mind.

I went thru the kitchen
out the door, into the yard-
Mom thought I went out to play,
so I caught her off her guard.

A couple of the neighbor kids,
I now call my "entourage"
gathered with excitement
as I climbed, to the top of the garage.

I stood there with my legs apart-
I could feel the pulsing of my heart-
hands, braced against my hips-
then, the tightening of my lips-

I knew that somewhere in the city-
Crime was out there brewing-
and then I heard my mother's voice-
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!!

Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone
that can evoke such heightened fear-
And the superpowers I thought I had,
suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids)

There was screaming, and yelling-
and amidst the clamor and the din-
Neighbors, looking out their windows-
saying, "it's just that kid again."

I didn't know what she was saying-
but I'll never forget that frown,
And her words  got a little worse
when she had to help me down

Banished to the bedroom-
on my bed, with the cape that I had wore-
Contemplating what dreadful fate
my future had in store.

I heard the doorknob turning-
then dad stepped thru the door
He knew I had been crying
as my head hung toward the floor.

What I thought would happen, didn't-
as he sat down on the bed-
then with his hand he gently brushed
the top of my head.

He explained to me the difference
of what was real, and fantasy-
That those movies are adventures,
not real, just fun to go and see.

Here I am, seventy-two and still alive-
and sometimes I wonder
how I've managed to survive

On my mantle are two pictures
that make me happy, and make me sad-
for those real superheroes-
They're my mother, and my dad.

copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
Richard Riddle Apr 2015
I 'm going back in time for a few moments, climb  into my "memory machine", and emerge back, into the mid to late forties. Yes, dear friends, I know its hard to believe, but I, too, was once a child.  Going to school Monday thru Friday, greatly anticipating the coming weekend, being able to play, all day, but most of all, going to the neighborhood theatre for......
                                               (scroll)










THE SATURDAY MORNING MATINEE


The kids would gather early,
to form the ticket line-        
    the movie wouldn't start til ten,
and cost a penny, plus a dime.

Some lived close enough to walk,
some would ride their bikes-
They came from all directions,
so, say goodbye to peace, and quiet!

Mom and Dad would even bring 'em
pick'em up and take'em  home-
knowing that for about two hours,
They would have that time alone.(H'mm?)

It was where we saw our heroes,
knowing truth and justice would prevail-
As we watched those nasty villains,
being carted off to jail.

Those times now, have long been gone
But the memories will, forever stay-
I never will forget, the

Saturday Morning Matinee!

(a sequel, perhaps, maybe?)

copyright 06-04-2014 r. riddle
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
When people actually had phone directories to look up a number. Now its to **** a spider, or block an open door.

richard riddle: 08-03-2015
Richard Riddle Feb 2015
At first glance, it's just a rust-covered pan, typical of what could be found in the trash, hiding behind an old abandoned building. But, its more than that.

This pan is more than a hundred years old. It belonged to my great-grandfather, to my grandfather, then my father. It's the pan that found those small, glistening nuggets, taken from small streams in the mountains of Arizona and California, from which my mother's wedding rings were created.

I cannot  begin to imagine the events this pan had laid witness to, or how many stories lie beneath that blanket of red crust. Oh, the history lessons it could teach. Held by calloused hands, it tasted the water that held those particles of nature that men sought, and died for, in their search for wealth. It heard the cries, and caught the tears, of many who failed in their endeavors.

At one time I considered restoring it to it's earlier time, then realized I would be destroying a history book, and the protective blanket that preserves those untold stories, hopefully, for many more years to come. It will be passed to my grandchildren.

               copyright: richard riddle-February 16,2015
Richard Riddle Sep 2015
Indulge me for a few brief moments, if you will. While placing some old photos in an album, I realized that soon it will have been 25 years since the passing of my father. Had it not been for him, I wouldn't have been able to compose some of the stories that have appeared on HP. For that reason, I chose to re-post my piece, "Rust to Rust." For those that have taken the time to have previously read it, "thank you."  For any new members that I hope will read it, thank you, ahead of time.

Richard Riddle


At first glance, it's just a rust-covered pan, typical of what could be found in the trash, hiding behind an old abandoned building. But, its more than that.

This pan is more than a hundred years old. It belonged to my great-grandfather, to my grandfather, then my father. It's the pan my father used to find those small, glistening nuggets, taken from small streams in the mountains of Arizona and California, from which my mother's wedding rings were created.

I cannot  begin to imagine the events this pan had laid witness to, or how many stories lie beneath that blanket of red crust. Oh, the history lessons it could teach. Held by calloused hands, it tasted the water that held those particles of nature that men sought, and died for, in their search for wealth. It heard the cries, and caught the tears, of many who failed in their endeavors.

At one time I considered restoring it to it's earlier time, then realized I would be destroying a history book, and the protective blanket that preserves those untold stories, hopefully, for many more years to come. It will be passed to my grandchildren.

               copyright: richard riddle-February 16,2015
Thank you, Dad! A color photo of the "pan" can be seen on Facebook.
Richard Riddle Jan 2015
It's an old, run-down, brick building-
with some pickup trucks, and a John Deere tractor-parked in front-
It has been there for many years-
with many memories in its 'font.

Why, that building knew your folks, the children,
watched generations come and go thru that door-
It waved good-bye to new recruits
as they left to go to war.

It became a sort of, "meet and greet"
Where folks would come , take a seat-
the coffee urn, filled to the brim
for those waiting to get a trim.
(and for anyone else who wandered in)

And the stories! Oh Lord, the stories!
One would start with an anecdote-
another followed with a joke-
then another, each trying to top the other.

Folks would laugh so hard, you'd think they were die'n-
for there was no way to know
Who was telling a truth,
and who was lie'n-
(a determination that never could be made)

A great way to end the week!

The building had no signs, because everyone knew what it was,
so why spend the money to tell folks something they already knew.
Then, one day this appeared on the door:

"Welcome Stranger! Come in and see!"
"The One and Only Barbershop"
                      "Where the BS flows like the River Nile, and the coffee's always free!"
(Open on Saturdays 7-3)
Closed Mon-Fri

copyright: richard riddle January 27, 2015
My father, for 20 years, was a game warden for the State of Texas. I  would often ride with him on weekends throughout his 6 county district, stopping at many of these small, rural, unincorporated communities. It was, as we say, "a real hoot."
Richard Riddle Dec 2016
(a repost for everyone who lives in rural areas)*


It's an old, run-down, brick building-
with some pickup trucks, and a John Deere tractor-parked in front-
It has been there for many years-
with many memories in its 'font.

Why, that building knew your folks, children,
watched generations come thru the door-
It waved good-bye to new recruits
as they left to go to war.

It became a sort of, "meet and greet"
Where folks would come , take a seat-
the coffee urn, filled to the brim
for those waiting to get a trim.
(and for anyone else who wandered in)

And the stories! Oh Lord, the stories!
One would start with an anecdote-
another followed with a joke-
then another, each trying to top the other.

Folks would laugh so hard, you'd think they were die'n-
for there was no way to know
Who was telling a truth,
and who was lie'n-
(a determination that never could be made)

A great way to end the week!

The building had no signs, because everyone knew what it was,
so why spend the money to tell folks something they already knew.
Then, one day, this appeared on the door:

"Welcome Stranger! Come in and see!"
"The One and Only Barbershop"
"Where the BS flows like the River Nile, and the coffee's always free!"
(Open on Saturdays 7-3)
Closed Mon-Fri

copyright: richard riddle January 27, 2015

My father, for 20 years, was a game warden for the State of Texas. I  would often ride with him on weekends throughout his 6 county district, stopping at many of these small, rural, unincorporated communities. It was, as we say, "a real hoot!" A photo of that old bldg. is on my banner.
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
a repost for everyone who lives in rural areas*


It's an old, run-down, brick building-
with some pickup trucks, and a John Deere tractor-parked in front-
It has been there for many years-
with many memories in its 'font.

Why, that building knew your folks, children,
watched generations come thru the door-
It waved good-bye to new recruits
as they left to go to war.

It became a sort of, "meet and greet"
Where folks would come , take a seat-
the coffee urn, filled to the brim
for those waiting to get a trim.
(and for anyone else who wandered in)

And the stories! Oh Lord, the stories!
One would start with an anecdote-
another followed with a joke-
then another, each trying to top the other.

Folks would laugh so hard, you'd think they were die'n-
for there was no way to know
Who was telling a truth,
and who was lie'n-
(a determination that never could be made)

A great way to end the week!

The building had no signs, because everyone knew what it was,
so why spend the money to tell folks something they already knew.
Then, one day, this appeared on the door:

"Welcome Stranger! Come in and see!"
"The One and Only Barbershop"
"Where the BS flows like the River Nile, and the coffee's always free!"
(Open on Saturdays 7-3)
Closed Mon-Fri

copyright: richard riddle January 27, 2015

My father, for 20 years, was a game warden for the State of Texas. I  would often ride with him on weekends throughout his 6 county district, stopping at many of these small, rural, unincorporated communities. It was, as we say, "a real hoot!"
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
It's an old, run-down, brick building-
with some pickup trucks, and a John Deere tractor-parked in front-
It has been there for many years-
with many memories in its 'font.

Why, that building knew your folks, children,
watched generations come thru the door-
It waved good-bye to new recruits
as they left to go to war.

It became a sort of, "meet and greet"
Where folks would come , take a seat-
the coffee urn, filled to the brim
for those waiting to get a trim.
(and for anyone else who wandered in)

And the stories! Oh Lord, the stories!
One would start with an anecdote-
another followed with a joke-
then another, each trying to top the other.

Folks would laugh so hard, you'd think they were die'n-
for there was no way to know
Who was telling a truth,
and who was lie'n-
(a determination that never could be made)

A great way to end the week!

The building had no signs, because everyone knew what it was,
so why spend the money to tell folks something they already knew.
Then, one day, this appeared on the door:

"Welcome Stranger! Come in and see!"
"The One and Only Barbershop"
"Where the BS flows like the River Nile, and the coffee's always free!"
(Open on Saturdays 7-3)
Closed Mon-Fri

copyright: richard riddle January 27, 2015

My father, for 20 years, was a game warden for the State of Texas. I  would often ride with him on weekends throughout his 6 county district, stopping at many of these small, rural, unincorporated communities. It was, as we say, "a real hoot!"
Richard Riddle Dec 2015
It's an old, run-down, brick building-
with some pickup trucks, and a John Deere tractor-parked in front-
It has been there for many years-
with many memories in its 'font.

Why, that building knew your folks, children,
watched generations come thru the door-
It waved good-bye to new recruits
as they left to go to war.

It became a sort of, "meet and greet"
Where folks would come , take a seat-
the coffee urn, filled to the brim
for those waiting to get a trim.
(and for anyone else who wandered in)

And the stories! Oh Lord, the stories!
One would start with an anecdote-
another followed with a joke-
then another, each trying to top the other.

Folks would laugh so hard, you'd think they were die'n-
for there was no way to know
Who was telling a truth,
and who was lie'n-
(a determination that never could be made)

A great way to end the week!

The building had no signs, because everyone knew what it was,
so why spend the money to tell folks something they already knew.
Then, one day, this appeared on the door:

"Welcome Stranger! Come in and see!"
"The One and Only Barbershop"
"Where the BS flows like the River Nile, and the coffee's always free!"
(Open on Saturdays 7-3)
Closed Mon-Fri

copyright: richard riddle January 27, 2015

My father, for 20 years, was a game warden for the State of Texas. I  would often ride with him on weekends throughout his 6 county district, stopping at many of these small, rural, unincorporated communities. It was, as we say, "a real hoot!"
Richard Riddle Nov 2016
From December 2015

My eyes gaze in wonderment
At the night sky...in Autumn
As Orion appears..........
leading us to December

Traveling the  route.....nightly.....
East to West...

A "hunter"................ say the mystics

But, is he?

What is it, he is hunting?

He isn't!

He's...."guarding!".....

The spirit.....of the...

"Christ Child".......................................

"Merry Christmas, everybody!"

copyright: richard riddle 12-16-2015
Richard Riddle Dec 2015
My eyes gaze in wonderment
At the night sky...in Autumn

As Orion appears..........
leading us to December

Traveling the  route.....nightly
East to West

A "hunter",  
say the mystics

But, is he?

What is it, he is hunting ?

He isn't!

He's  "guarding!"

The spirit.....of the...

"Christ Child"

copyright: richard riddle 12-16-2015
Merry Christmas, everybody!! :)
Richard Riddle Sep 2015
I am not, what one would deem to be a "religious" man. As a matter of fact, it has been a very long time since I have been to a church service, other than attending a wake, or a funeral. But, that should not label me as a "disbeliever", for I strongly believe in the Trinity.

Around my neck is a chain with a cross pendant. My wife, Karen, gave it to me the first Christmas of our marriage,  49 years ago, come this December.  On my right-hand is a ring, the symbol of the  Alpha/Omega stamped upon its crest. A reminder that I can be taken from this mortal earth at anytime, and perhaps, not of my choosing. On my left-hand, another ring, with a cross carved upon its crest. Again, a reminder that there is a higher, more powerful entity, that we as mortals, often take for granted(we say we don't, but we do).

Does everyone agree with me? "No, of course not!" I wear them, "for me." I thank the Lord everyday, for my family, my grandchildren, and yes, that does include my cat(my Guardian Angel). I thank Him for the friends I have made, and for the friends I have never seen, but to whom I enjoy stretching my hands across seas and continents, asking, "How are you, hope you're doing well, and stay in touch." I hope it continues for a very long time.

copyright: richard riddle: September 30, 2015
Richard Riddle Apr 2014
The color of your skin, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your language, or accent, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your creed does not tell me,
  what kind of person you are-
It is you, that shows me, what kind of person you are!

copyright: richard riddle 04-08-2014
Richard Riddle Oct 2016
(repost)

The color of your skin, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your language, or accent, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your creed does not tell me,
  what kind of person you are-
It is you, that shows me, what kind of person you are!

copyright: richard riddle 04-08-2014
Richard Riddle Feb 2015
The color of your skin, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your language, or accent, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your creed does not tell me,
  what kind of person you are-
It is you, that shows me, what kind of person you are!

copyright: richard riddle 04-08-2014
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
The color of your skin, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your language, or accent, does not tell me
  what kind of person you are-
Your creed does not tell me,
  what kind of person you are-
It is you, that shows me, what kind of person you are!

copyright: richard riddle 04-08-2014
Richard Riddle Nov 2016
From January-2015*

Brother: "I'm older than you, so I'm smarter than you!"
Sister: "Older, yes, smarter, no."
Brother: "Yes I am!"
Sister: "No you're not"
Brother: "Yes I am!"
Sister: "Okay, Okay. I apologize. I'm sorry I'm less stupid than you are."
Brother" That's better."

(its all about the phrasing)

copyright: Richard Riddle-January 05, 2015
Richard Riddle Jan 2015
Brother: "I'm older than you, so I'm smarter than you!"
Sister: "Older, yes, smarter, no."
Brother: "Yes I am!"
Sister: "No you're not"
Brother: "Yes I am!"
Sister: "Okay, Okay. I apologize. I'm sorry I'm less stupid than you are."
Brother" That's better."

(its all about the phrasing)

copyright: Richard Riddle-January 05, 2015
Richard Riddle May 2016
You can't hear them coming....
those avian creatures-
that stalk in darkness

"Owls.........they are!"

It's their "wings"
designed by natures science...

to soar in silence

waiting
watching
undetected
unexpected

From them, they got their name, those U S Air Force glider squadrons of World War II. After being released from a "tow plane", they silently descended toward a landing target behind enemy lines, with a cargo of supplies, gasoline, etc. Some, carrying a small cadre of troops, even a vehicle.  The gliders couldn't be retrieved, the crews were on 'their own" to find their way back to any Allied force that could get them back to their units. Some didn't make it.

"God bless each and everyone of you!"

copyright: richard riddle 05-09-2016
In memory of my uncle, Major Jack C. Riddle(USAF ret./deceased). During one of his visits to Dallas(the "Silent Wings"museum was originally located in Terrell, Texas, 20 miles east of Dallas, he was on the Board of Directors) I asked if he was at Normandy on D-Day, June 6, 1944. He replied, "No, but we **** sure heard it!" The gliders were 'dropped' the night before, moving in silence, heading behind enemy lines, to set up supply lines for the Allied Invasion Forces.
Now located at the Lubbock Municipal Airport, Lubbock, Texas is the "Silent Wings" Museum. An excellent tribute to those men and their aircraft.
Richard Riddle Jan 2015
Not too long ago one of my former co-workers posed a question to me:

CW: Do you believe in God?
RR: "Yes, I do."
CW: What makes you think there is a God.
RR: "All I have to do to strengthen my beliefs is look at my grandchildren."

copyright: richardriddle January 17, 2015
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
August 19, 2015

The question keeps occurring, "Why am I sitting here at my computer, trying to come up with an idea on which to write?" After all, it's only 4:30 a.m. and the coffee has already become too cold, so "Hello, Keurig, again!"
On the screen, a still photo of my grand-daughter Emily, in the kitchen of her home, dancing with a broom, while supposedly sweeping the floor. It was Christmas Day, 2014. It's currently my profile photo.

                        (Excuse me while I go warm up a donut)

"I'm back." Don't know where her older brother, Evan, was at that moment, probably in the den putting together another "Star Wars" LEGO set he got for Christmas. He has most of them. By the way, Christmas 2015 is right around the corner, and don't forget that "Talk Like a Pirate Day" arrives next month on September 19.

"Yea, I know what you're thinking. "

copyright: richard riddle-August 19, 2015
Richard Riddle Feb 2016
by Emily Riddle(11 years old)


Slippery flakes of snow,
from white, puffy clouds-
Covered in cold, icy water-
We travel around the world-
creating frozen 'snow' days
At our vacation in Texas
We watch our siblings, rain and hail
take over for a while

"We are snowflakes!"


copyright: *Emily Riddle February 09, 2016
My granddaughter, Emily Riddle wrote this, and was posted under my name.
Richard Riddle Nov 2016
No mortal being knows for sure what the future holds. We exist because of theories and  prophecy. Will we be here tomorrow, next week, month, year? God lets us live on a "day to day" basis. Some day................he will say, "Enough...... is enough!"
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
I went to a finance company to apply for a loan. Everything was going well until I was told they would be sending somebody named "Rocco" to live with me for the next five years.

richard riddle: August 31, 2015
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
On any block.........
On any street........
In any city......town.......
There are ............
"secrets!"

copyright: richard riddle-August 23, 2015
Hum the theme from "The Twilight Zone" after reading. The idea for this came from listening to audio tapes of old radio melodramas from the late forties to early fifties.
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
Even in light, there is darkness!

'SECRETS'

Somewhere...........
'hidden'

Somew­here..........
'silent'

'Haunting', they are........
In *'dreams
....
'Nightmares.....
Rooted deep in your garden of paranoia-
Therein, rest the truths....
Buried among the lies........


copyright: Richard Riddle August 25, 2015
Richard Riddle May 2016
repost from November, 2013*

If you’re in an accident,
and it's compensation, you wish to gain-
Look no further than the law firm
Of “Grimace, Limpe, and Paine.”

If you’ve been arrested-
With a bag of stolen stuff-
Call the criminal defense firm
Of “Shackles, Chains, and Cuffs.”

But, if you want to hire a lawyer-
That’s known from “coast to coast”
Pick up the phone, and call the firm,
of “Bluster, Bluffe, and Boaste.”

Choosing an attorney
is not an easy task-
For every question answered
there's another to be asked.

So, I will make it simple,
amidst your sighs and moans-
Just pick up your telephone-
and call the firm of "Smith and Jones."


copyright: r. riddle November 27, 2013
Richard Riddle Nov 2013
If you’re in an accident,
and it's compensation, you wish to gain-
Look no further than the law firm
Of “Grimace, Limpe, and Paine.”

If you’ve been arrested-
With a bag of stolen stuff-
Call the criminal defense firm
Of “Shackles, Chains, and Cuffs.”

But, if you want to hire a lawyer-
That’s known from “coast to coast”
Pick up the phone, and call the firm,
of “Bluster, Bluffe, and Boaste.”

Choosing an attorney
is not an easy task-
For every question answered
there's another to be asked.

So, I will make it simple,
amidst your sighs and moans-
Just pick up your telephone-
and call the firm of "Smith and Jones."


copyright: r. riddle November 27, 2013
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
If you’re in an accident,
and it's compensation, you wish to gain-
Look no further than the law firm
Of “Grimace, Limpe, and Paine.”

If you’ve been arrested-
With a bag of stolen stuff-
Call the criminal defense firm
Of “Shackles, Chains, and Cuffs.”

But, you want to hire a lawyer-
That’s known from “coast to coast”
Pick up the phone, and call the firm,
of “Bluster, Bluffe, and Boaste.”

Choosing an attorney
is not an easy task-
For every question answered
there's another to be asked.

So, I will make it simple,
amidst your sighs and moans-
Just pick up your telephone-
and call the firm of "Smith and Jones."


copyright: r. riddle November 27, 2013
Richard Riddle Oct 2014
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Richard Riddle Jun 2014
My love -
   For you, alone,

My soul will sing -
a deep song,
Of passion,
and desires,
So not spoken -
In my eyes, and my touch,
"a symphony."

copyright June 05,2014-Bob Robinson
Bob is a good friend and co-worker, who had to give up his computer not long ago. That is why I am posting this for him.
Richard Riddle Dec 2013
To all of you, who have taken the time-
to read my works of prose-
Whether all, or just one line-
I believe it keeps us close.

So, keep your seats on this "poet's train"
and keep your pen in hand-
Do not be afraid to "speak your mind-
let your brain expand!!

Have a great holiday season!!
copyright Richard Riddle December 16, 2013
Richard Riddle Sep 2014
On August 28, 2014, was somewhat of a milestone for me. A one year anniversary, so to speak, as a member of the HP Family. It has been a wonderful, enlightening, and exhilarating ride, and one I hope to stay on for quite some time to come.
To all of you who have taken the time to read my contributions, commenting, or not, THANK YOU!
I write for relaxation, and recreation. For the most part, I try to entertain, to bring a bit of a smile, or perhaps a laugh or two, and if the piece has done that, then the goal has been reached. Have all of my works been "winners?" Of course not. That is just part of the menu. Some meals are good, some aren't. Regardless, I will try to get better. I will "keep my seat on this "Poet's Train" and hope it doesn't stop anytime soon.

Richard Riddle
(I thank the world for all of you! This August will be two years.))
Richard Riddle Jul 2015
Thank You - HP


On August 28, 2014, was somewhat of a milestone for me. A one year anniversary, so to speak, as a member of the HP Family. It has been a wonderful, enlightening, and exhilarating ride, and one I hope to stay on for quite some time to come.
To all of you who have taken the time to read my contributions, commenting, or not, THANK YOU!
I write for relaxation, and recreation. For the most part, I try to entertain, to bring a bit of a smile, or perhaps a laugh or two, and if the piece has done that, then the goal has been reached. Have all of my works been "winners?" Of course not. That is just part of the menu. Some meals are good, some aren't. Regardless, I will try to get better. I will "keep my seat on this "Poet's Train" and hope it doesn't stop anytime soon.

Richard Riddle
(I thank the world for all of you! This August will be two years.))
Richard Riddle Dec 2013
There is a special person-
and, not just to me, alone,
but to all of us who see her
as one of our very own

She got promoted some time ago-
and what a terrible loss!
But, regardless, we remind ourselves-
that she remains to be our boss.

I made a promise to myself-
that every now and then,
That I would try to make her smile
as often as I can

I could have sent this piece of work
by email, fax, or text
But this way its been immortalized
out of love, and deep respect.

Merry Christmas Millicent!-December, 2013
copyright r.riddle December 05, 2013
Richard Riddle Feb 2017
from June, 2016*

An hour before sunrise,
not long before  going home-

It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn-
silent......... serene-
As I step into the woods

I know they're watching,
those denizens of the forest-
Raccoon, possum, birds, etc.

I purse my lips
emit a soft whistle-
No reply
Another....no reply

A few more steps......then..
the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove-
"How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting

A raccoon appears in front of me,
the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding
In the underbrush, and in the trees.

They are "The Angels",
"You are safe with us", his eyes tell me-
It is then I know,  it's going to be..... a "good day."


r. riddle 06-26-2016
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
An hour before sunrise,
not long before  going home-

It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn-
silent......... serene-
As I step into the woods

I know they're watching,
those denizens of the forest-
Raccoon, possum, birds, etc.

I purse my lips
emit a soft whistle-
No reply
Another....no reply

A few more steps......then..
the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove-
"How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting

A raccoon appears in front of me,
the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding
In the underbrush, and in the trees.

They are "The Angels",
"You are safe with us", his eyes tell me-*
It is then I know,  it's going to be..... a "good day."


r. riddle 06-26-2016
Richard Riddle May 2015
It is He -
who sent Emily and me
       To a shelter -
t'was an angel there, to be free'd -
       An angel,
Who laid alone -
     waiting for us -  
To bring her HOME!
My Guardian Angel "Brie"(as in cheese)!

copyright: richard riddle May 24, 2015
Richard Riddle Aug 2015
In August, 1977, My wife, Karen, and son Russ, moved back to Texas after eight years of being away. Back to Dallas, Karen's hometown. A house which just happened to be next door to her parents was going up for sale. However, the owners decided to rent it to us, with an offer no sane person could refuse.

Now the neighborhood was a long- established residential area. The majority of the residents, like my in-laws, had been there from its inception, which made the move easier, for we knew most of them. But, there is always one, whose antics over time, become legendary.

Joe, a Scotsman to the nth degree. Every new years eve, at the stroke   of midnight, he would appear on his front porch dressed in his kilt, with his bagpipes, heralding in the coming year with supposedly,
"Auld Lang Syne ". At least that's what it was supposed to be, but with bagpipes, how does anyone really know.  He didn't stop there; never ceasing to take  advantage to publicly play that over-sized vacuum bag, he would often welcome newborn children, puppies, kittens, etc.

The day the moving van arrived, there he was, out on his porch wearing that plaid kilt, bagpipes clutched against his chest. Except, there was an unexpected "twist." After every two or three bars he would stop and yell out, "Stay away from the moors! Stay away from the moors!" Some of the neighbors stepped out on their porches just to see what was going on now. Even the crew unloading the van seemed to enjoy the entertainment and it helped the time seem to go faster.

Within ten days after somewhat settling in to our new place, Karen and I realized that the "moors" of which Joe spoke, actually were the "Moore's" who were our next door neighbors. Needless to say, it was an interesting neighborhood. That could be "another story."

copyright: richard riddle-august 03, 2015
Richard Riddle Aug 2013
In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!       
           
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
Should be presented as a "gag gift." A ceramic coffee cup in the shape of a toilet worked for me.
Richard Riddle May 2015
In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!      
          
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
Richard Riddle Mar 2015
In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!      
          
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
(A repost of my first writing.  Written to go with a "gag-gift" for my boss' birthday. The last stanza should be covered with a tab to be removed after the box is opened)
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
With Christmas shopping upon us, thought I would put this in the mix**

In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!      
          
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell".

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows -- O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared -- such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.


Robert William Service
Hope you enjoyed this. Published in 1907
Richard Riddle Mar 2016
He is older-
taller
athletic
celloist

She.....
beautiful
red hair...green eyes
infectuous giggle


He wears a tuxedo(orchestra)
she straightens his tie,
picks the lint from his collar-
a kiss on his cheek


As the orchestra plays
he plays for her
she sits in awe...
Watching.....
Listening
......

"The Duet"

Evan and Emily

My Grandchildren

richard riddle: 03-17-2016
Evan is 15, Emily is 12,  They always provide me with new subject matter.
Richard Riddle Jun 2015
'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there.
Which well-nigh filled Joe's bar-room on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.

"Where did it come from?" someone said, "The wind has blown it in."
"What does it want?" another cried. "Some whisky, *** or gin?"
"Here, Toby, sic him, if your stomach's equal to the work -
I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a Turk."

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place.
"Come, boys, I know there's burly hearts among so good a crowd
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud."

"Give me a drink -- that's what I want -- I'm out of funds, you know;
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou!
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as anyone of you."

"There, thanks; that's braced me nicely! God bless you one and all!
Next time I pass this good saloon, I'll make another call.
Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going fast."

"Say! Give me another whisky, and I'll tell you what I'll do
I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink."

"Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame --
Such little drinks to a *** like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers -- there, that's the scheme - and corking whisky, too.
Well, here's luck, boys! and, landlord, my best regards to you!"

"You've treated me pretty kindly, and I'd like to tell you how
I came to be the ***** sot you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth."

"I was a painter -- not one that daubed on bricks and wood
But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes."

"I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the 'Chase of Fame.'
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name.
And then I met a woman -- now comes the funny part --
With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart."

"Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven."

"Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair."

"I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way,
And Madeleine admired it, and, much to my surprise,
Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes."

"It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown
My friend had stolen my darling, and I was left alone;
And, ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead."

"That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile!
I thought you'd be amused, and laughing all the while.
Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a teardrop in your eye,
Come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babies and women that should cry."

"Say, boys, if you give me just another whisky, I'll be glad,
And I'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score --
You shall see the lovely Madeleine upon the bar-room floor."

Another drink, and with chalk in hand the vagabond began
To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture -- dead.
I was going to wait a couple of days, but, what the heck!
Richard Riddle Aug 2014
Its 3 a.m.

Drinking a cup of hot coffee,
Snacking on a warm, glazed, donut-
Life is simple-

Until the sun comes up!

copyright: richard riddle August 27, 2014
Richard Riddle Sep 2014
This tree
Is not just any 'ol tree-
It's "The Grandmother Tree"
Having grown from a broken, eighteen inch high twig,
taken from its mother by the Texas wind.
Now, in just over six years, it rises nearly fifteen feet, for it was planted, and fed, with the love from two grandchildren, who planted it in memory of their grandmother, my wife, Karen, of 40 years, and their surviving grandmother, Linda.
Karen found it on our patio and placed it in a clay ***; watered it, and made a support for it to keep it upright. She wanted to plant it where it stands today, in the backyard of our sons home. She had named it "The Evan and Emily Tree." When she left us, Emily and Evan planted it in the back yard of their home. They renamed it, "The Grandmother Tree."
The tree is home to the "Guardians", the "Keepers", the "Watchers", sent to protect their memories, then, now, and future. Enlarge it, and you might see them, if you look closely. There are monkeys sitting in the tree, and the silhouettes. To the left, is cast the shadow of a "little man", with arm extended, pointing upward. To the right of the tree, perhaps an ape like creature, or two, and the face of a "mystery man."

Set your imagination "free",
For there could be others-
Look, and see.

(Photo shown on Facebook)suggestion: temporarily set the photo
as your background, then study the pic.. You could be surprised!

copyright: richard riddle September 17, 2014 12:32pm
Next page