More Poems

"In Places"

In places I've seen.
The strongest of characters,

played without acting,

Responding reacting.

In places I've been.

Welcomed unquestioned,

and mostly unchallenged.

In places I've seen.

How their lives mix

With violence and calm.

In places I've been.

Welcomed unquestioned,

and mostly unchallenged.

In places I've seen.

How the smallest of creatures,

are able to teach us;

respect, without harm.

In places I've been.

Where most of the time, they are

hiding from sight, by diving

down deeper, or taking to flight.

In places I've seen.

No devices they made, or invented,

to dominant, demonstrate,

power or fear.

In places I've been.

So impressed they expressed,

neither malice before, nor after,

the deeds decreed, by us; to be crimes.

In places I've seen

How they live and how

We've made them serve us.

In places I've been.

As guilty as you when

They didn't deserve us.

In places I've seen.

Species so rare, I dare not

reveal; the location.

In places I've been.

Where natures great icons,

will soon become bygones.

In places I've seen.

So much I can tell of,

so much I recall, but

one thing for certain,

remains above all.

I've been to those places.

I went without call,

I chose to be with them,

I'm humble,

I'm small.

Copyright Bob Richardson 2007

"The Wishes of Time"

Time is delicious and often capricious,

Never suspicious, pernicious, seditious.

Time is of permanence, time is occurrence

of reticent; presence, the essence of time.

Time can be charming; and even alarming,

when passing before and behind, and beneath us.

Some times, it's boring and then its starts soaring,

to leave us deploring of where it has gone!

Time is for locking, and stacking, and stocking,

checking, and winding, and ticking, and tocking.

Time is for sleeping, and weeping, and keeping,

and reaping rewards in the fullness of time

Time is for gambling and risking and playing,

for treading the paths that have never be laid.

Time is for praying, for soothing, and saying,

and laying the paths that will never be trod.

Time is for being and seeing and fleeing,

stalkin', an' huntin,' an' shootin,' an' fishin',
Time is for standin' and throwin' yer hand in,
and going to help a poor creature in need.

Time is detectable, very respectable,

only reflectable, when it has gone.

Time is inspectable, some is collectable;

travelling backwards has never been done.

Time is for plotting, for planning, and hatching,

time is for blaming, accusing, and shaming.

Time is for sinning, and spinning, and, winning

and weaving the webs, for deceiving a friend.

Time is for sorting, reporting, supporting,

courting, and petting, and kissing, and missing.

Time is for, crying, denying, and sighing,

and hoping and wishing for more of your time

Time is exciting when reading and writing,

looking, and booking, recording, and sighting.

Time is for finding the truth that is binding,
and ever reminding, The Legend of Lines

Time is for seeing, and hearing, and feeling,

time is declarative; look at the narrative.

Time is for forming and storming and norming,

"Varnish and Brass"

Looking at things that survive from the past,
like marble, and granite, and fine crystal glass.

Some things continue to please on their own,

like bronzes, enamels, and some types of stone.

Some form a marriage; establish a class,

gold holding diamonds, and wood holding glass.

Oil paint on canvas, depicting the past,

but none go together like varnish and brass.

Varnish, and varnish, and varnish, and brass,

when timber is fashioned and polished like glass.

The hinges embedded, the brackets made fast.

Then loaded with varnish and fastened with brass.

The door to a room is held open to pass,

it's blooming with varnish and hanging with brass.

Bet you can't pass without feeling the brass,

or stroking that varnish or touching that brass.

A Room full of people convinced of their class,

with lots to be auctioned, in lots; from the past.

Things to be valued but none will surpass,

the things put together with varnish and brass.

Who loads the varnish, and fastens the brass,

determined by birthright, and sometimes by class.

Dictates how much of that varnish and brass,

you clean, or you bid for, or simply walk past.

Casket and carriage and time ravage past,

the brass will just tarnish, the varnish will last.

Timbers will crumble and flesh perish fast,

then all that is left is the varnish and brass.