Monthly Archives: December 2014

Timeless March and Endless Loss

The time is near – once again –
where hearts roam the morrow –
New Year is here – again akin –
to wash clear yester’s sorrow.

When pasts do linger – each points his finger –
to accuse mighty cause.
Of harbinger’s bringer – that saintly singer –
as lost hope ever was.

Forsake me not, great Father of Time,
break my somber mind sublime….
Take away this past remorse –
Shake rudder upon new course.
Stake us all on new high mission –
of granted dreams and grand ambition –

But beg thou, please, my time marching friend,
allow me favor – of her timeless elsewhen:
Though the past I’ll gladly shed and be gone –
save her magical heart – the only one –
I shall carry to time’s blessed end.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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I’ve read this poem many times and have decided that front rhymes – or where the first word of each line rhymes with another first word – as perpetrated in this 3rd stanza – goes completely un-noticed….. even to me, its author.  Odd, that.  (Poet’s addition: March 04, 2015)

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My Heavens

If Heaven’s path were made for one
and nere choice but to walk alone
then I wonder what should become
of my absence in God’s lovely home…

For surely I would stop on the path
to admire the birds and bees…
and dance within the machair fields
among cattails and other weeds…

Certain I’d climb the aiten bush-
soft tendrils caressing me…
I should fancy not to be in a rush –
so then climb the cherry trees.

Then on down to find the pond,
feed all the ducks in a row,
and hope that I brought along
my trusty fishing pole.

Sure to pass the basketball hoop,
where I’d want to shoot a few,
and hope Heaven’s path is a loop,
so I can do it all with you.

For if your house is on the way,
Then I’d never find dear Heaven.
As we would hold hands all the day,
and eat cookies from your oven.

And I’d kiss your cheek and declare my love,
for all of God’s eternity.
Heaven can wait – so what if I’m late?
I’d rather spend it with thee…
For without you there, t’would be quite contrare –
as Heaven would not Heaven be.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Shouting Fire in a Korean Theater

The United States of America is possibly the most free nation in the world.  Our first amendment is often referred to as the “Freedom of Speech” amendment because it protects almost all speech – whether direct speech, acts designed to make a statement, or just “art” designed to make a statement.  ie., A photograph of a crucifix in a jar of urine.  Although there is no speech in such a photograph the message it sends (as despicable as it is) is protected by our freedom of speech.  And as much as the photo bothers me personally I think it should be rightfully protected.

The one constraint to the first amendment is the “clear and present danger” notion, which was instituted through the U.S. Supreme Court in 1919 and solidified by the words of Justice Holmes who likened the notion to falsely shouting fire in a crowded theater.  The gist is that any speech causing “clear and present danger” should be outlawed in the court’s opinion.  And in mine.

Smacking Christians in the face by placing their single most important relic in a glass of urine does not violate the “clear and present danger” rule because Christians are unlikely to riot.  In fact, after receiving such a smack in the face they are more likely to turn the other cheek for another good smack as well.  Christians are like whack-a-moles.

But what of putting the Islamic Koran in a bowl of urine?  Would that cause a “clear and present danger” to any person?  I certainly would think so.

Likewise Sony Entertainment Industry has just released a movie with the plot of killing the real, living, ruler of North Korea.  Where is the outcry?  North Korea is a nation with nuclear capability and an itchy trigger finger.  Does anyone in this country see this as clear and present danger?  If not to us then at least to those nations it considers unfriendly in their own back yard?

Considering the “hack” of Sony’s corporate computer system and leak of private information mere hours after their public information release of the movie – shouldn’t someone stand up and say something?

I am.  And I hope you will join me.  Deciding whether North Korea has the actual bite behind their bark is irrelevant.  Sony Entertainment is not the State Department, nor is it involved in any foreign relations.  If it should ever be discovered that all of this hype over hacking and release of sensitive information was just a ploy by Sony itself to promote another stupid-assed movie – then their executives should be put in prison and their corporation razed to the ground.  They are playing footsie with our lives and livelihood.  And you, and I, are trapped in this burning theater.


Heart’s Memories

A moment, such a funny thing.
Often minds and eyes fall upon
those lost moments ago….

When songs were sung, and laughter hung –
in the prism of yester year…

And the scent of Grandfather’s billowing pipe
brings the essence of forgotten tear.

And sitting upon the lap of he –
who I came to know as Dad….
and though our years are history
they are the best we could have had.

Sweet mum, sing me softly to sleep
songs of once upon a time…
Allow my heart to forever keep
cherished moments as these sublime.

And children’s games did play and play…
Kick the can in the dark.
What other things stay, in mem’ries array –
to bolster my aging heart?

The heart is where we keep our love,
those precious moments tucked away…
Where doldrum is nere worth speaking of –
and open hearts will save the day.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Love Elusive

If one could search for love so kind –
from ocean’s depth to narrow shore…
so rare a beauty as ever find
as though never searched before.

Yet in the human heart lies trust –
a desire that tickles the soul.
In our bodies we simply must –
Find love to make us whole….

But within that quest, of broken dream,
finds nere the song of love’s requiem,
For her shadow is sparse with invisible seam,
lying broken, invariably lost in-between.

For closer to heart than love’s yearning call –
lies hungry start of monstrous endeavor.
A bloody war where the good shall fall –
beautiful life lost for nothing better.

The screams for mother and country so dear,
breathing the bloody stumps of men….
And he, so bland, raise a hand to cheer
such violent death of countrymen.

What of love for times as these –
gone to hide ‘midst the forest…
seeking shelter behind the leaves
of hatred’s enchanting chorus.

Search my young friend, far and low,
for that love so well hidden –
and when if found, let your heart come round,
to pray that war be ridden.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Moon Light Ride

The brown tipped grass peeked through the snow –
With stems quite cold and forlorn.
The north gale came and so winds did blow
and nodded their heads in form.

As for I, a moonlit ride –
on my horse, steady and slow.
With her cold and shivering skin below –
I said “Not much further to go.”

She low’r’d her head, and back again,
to ring her bridle bell.
As if to say “Why dear friend,
did you put us in winter’s hell?”

“Well, ol’ nag, it’s like this, you see…
for forty nights I’ve been alone.
And down the creekbed lives Miss Weatherby,
and I’d like to kiss her some.”

Just on que the old nag said squarely,
“Twenty miles in a blizzard storm?
To get something that finds you rarely
when beautiful weather’s the norm?”

“Just my luck,” I said with disdain,
“To have such a cyncical horse.”
But wondered if I could be insane,
for talking to a horse of course!

Naw, no, I should ever think not.
For my ears wouldn’t give such slack.
For if I were insane,
…..I think it would be plain,
That my horse wouldn’t answer back.

“I’ll ask you to quiet down, Nellie,
because we’re almost there.
Miss Weatherby’s a cheeky sort,
who’ll spook and run on a scare.”

Nellie laughed and said with a thrill –
“So you think I’d be the source?
Well, my friend, better check again.
You’re the one talking to a horse.”

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Frosty Muse

I often felt that Robert Frost –
was in my own inflamed heart –
For when all else seemed harringly lost –
my pen had no trouble to start…

And when I oft did wonder aloud
if his spirit was slinking around –
the words simply came – proper and proud
as if he were I –  pound for pound.

And thought I should test this wise –
to prove it bullduggery or not…
I sat at a table three times the size
with nere miniature pen to blot!

And what upon my parchment wrought –
these magical words appeared –
“’tis just you, you flaming idiot!”
and to myself I’ve come so endeared…
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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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