I am now so old
I only remember things,
Whenever possible,
That please me
From days “back then”,
When my **** was where
It was supposed to be
Now it walks along behind me
Like a lady in waiting.

My **** is like bunting
And my hair is hunting
For new territory
Up my back and shoulders;
It happens when men get older.
The hair on top thins
The stuff below begins
To reupholster my anatomy.
It’s so irritating to me
This whole aging thing,
This “being a senior” stuff.

It’s really rough on someone like me
An eternal teen, new to the scene.
But now I have become
That eccentric old fellow
In plaid pants that looked dumb
In the seventies and before
And forever after.
But I can’t join the laughter.

Because it’s me, you see.
All I need now is to pull them up,
My pants, my belt
Right under my man *****
And I’ll be the guys on YouTube
In the video gag reels.
That’s how it feels.
But, it’s not funny to me.
It is, however, reality.
I will just have to make the best
Of the good and bad, the rest

You forgot to love me in the places I am broken
Like the cracks of a frozen lake,
Inevitably I fell through to the cold water
you, out of my reach.

Note to self
you are the divine embodiment
of the universe
you are you and that is
better than anything else
you are worthy of love
and capable of learning
to love more and more
better and better
you are journeying through the universe
like a star in the sky
do not fear being seen
or hide away if misunderstood
to be seen is an opportunity to be heard
it is the only way to live
in the open, and openly
all hidden things wish to be seen
if only by the eyes of the few
life will give to you
your time of need
and you will be better
for having received it
to welcome life’s taking
without grasping
is to receive something altogether greater
less seen
more of yours than anything was before
believe in the yes that is only for yourself
not only the one you give to others
and learn to use them both
can you say yes to deserving more
and cherish the change?
It is imperative that you do
yes is the only answer worth giving
to life, to love, to yourself.

I just want him to reach within my soul
and try to grasp all the pieces that make me whole.

Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this.


"Stricly an Opinion"
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, with 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