Daily Archives: December 7, 2014

It Could Have Been

An afterthought occurs only when
something else could have been.

It doesn’t matter if yours or mine
as each shall follow us through time

Would you lament of something you did?
Or of something you didn’t do?
In any event the moment’s spent
and judgement lays upon you.

As the clock ticks round and round –
and earth opens her shameful ground
for our bodies to lay ’til judgement day –
and afterthoughts shower us – as rain in May
to leave us there – within lonely despair
to wonder of things that could have been.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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Poème Fin Comple

A poem will end when a poem will end,
not a moment before or aft.
When a reader has fun, or has just begun
to explode his belly with laughs.

If the subject be love, or white frilly doves,
then end with a heart on a stick.
While painted clowns and western ghost towns
should end with a frightful lick.

A walk through a park or moonlit dark
should end with an “ooo” or “ah”
While Christmas tales or Christmas sales
might end with a “boo” or “bah!”

Poems of rabbits or squeaky new gadgets
could end in many a way.
But the foot of a rabbit can be its own gadget
when put in the pocket to play.
So sad to see, that three legged he
as he barely hops away.

My favorite end is when he comes again
to offer his life to me.
For in the long run – the rabbit is done
and his life full of misery.

Acquiescence, dear friend, is the very best end
when the rabbits do come to thee.
So cut off their feet, and be quite complete
for the very best fin complet……

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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My Other – Lost in Thorns

Of such lonely night
with half moon bright
Nere any star light
across Heaven’s might…

Finds I, amidst the thorns
of this life, so adorned
with jackals and mysteries
brought near by night thieves
and murderous throes – of those
beyond God’s light of day.

Hither dear,
let your mind clear
and join my solemn here
for all eternity’s stay.

And we shall lite above
and listen to the angel’s praise
while those abhorring that of love
shall spend their last in earthen days.

The earth, the earth, her mystic ways
and devil’s frowns do scorch her time –
and those within who live the fray
who with common hatred lay
her boundaries – of death decay.

For only death can release those earthen souls –
Who sup upon their earthen doles….
and play their impish roles –
and never even know.

Oh darling, dear other part of me,
Look your sky to find my heart,
amidst the vastness of honesty.

Even Sodom should never fall –
least one man true and tall.
And as I am, so must you be –
Darling, search my hand for eternity.
As I will search for yours….

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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