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Showing posts with label poetry lovers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry lovers. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 15, 2023
Early Release for A Heart Made of Tissue Paper
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
A Moonless Knight
I wished upon the moon one
night, bewitched by how it shone so white.
While staring up with some excite my eyes beheld a wondrous sight! The moon, so lustrous and white, transformed into
an armored knight who caused me just a moments fright when he jumped down from
such a height. No more a soft celestial
light, he was my lover, day and night.
This caused the world a
serious plight. How harsh a sting and
deep the bite inflicted on the world, alright, to lose their blackest-hour
light.
And so I've come to set
things right, to offer up without a fight my lover wished for one clear
night. I hold him close. He hugs me tight, then climbs again to
heaven's height to glow a bluer shade of bright. I stare at my beloved knight, not wanting to
be impolite, and in my heart with all my might I wish a wish that isn't
right.
Now and then the world
still spites a shadowless and moonless night when we steal softly out of sight
to hold each other 'til daylight and share in lovers’ true delight.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Contemplating Crazy Things
I contemplate a lot of things,
Like why the sky's a shade of green,
And how it is that lions fly
While birds with wings refuse to try.
It's strange how snowmen never melt,
And sweaty feet are sweetly smelt,
And how so commonly we see
Young hippos nesting in a tree.
I wonder how they get up there,
And why the world is mostly square,
And how huge every nose would be
If we had only one, not three.
I cannot guess why hills are flat,
Nor can I say why twigs are fat.
I do not know how mud keeps clean,
Or why small kittens act so mean.
And while I'm thinking all this stuff,
Consider black marshmallow fluff,
And how the rainbows twist and coil
Around the clouds down to the soil
Imagine if our teeth were white
I'd want to keep them out of site!
It's crazy stuff I see in dreams,
To contemplate so many things.
Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Happiness Found Me Alone
Happiness found me alone one day and took me by the hand.
He showed me how the sun gave out its warmth across the land.
Sadness found me content and smiling upward at the sun.
He talked of droughts and blindness and what burning rays had done.
Happiness found me alone again and pointed to the sky.
He showed me how the storms created rainbows way up high.
Sadness found me intrigued and took me to the rainbow’s end.
He showed me how it disappeared to ne’er return again.
Happiness found me alone and taught me how to sing a song.
He sang a dozen melodies as I chirped right along.
Sadness found me singing out and covered up his ears.
He said the noise was deafening, and wished he couldn’t hear.
Happiness found me alone and gave me seven coins of gold.
He showed me many fancy things that merchants often sold.
Sadness found me admiring the pretty things I’d bought.
He pointed out my empty purse and money I had not.
Happiness found me alone and helped me talk to someone new.
He called the boy my friend and said that I was his friend too.
Sadness found me together with my kind, attentive friend.
He whispered of betrayal and how broken hearts don’t mend.
Happiness found me alone and held me tight in his embrace.
He whispered kindness in my ear and kissed me on the face.
Sadness found me with Happiness but before he spoke at all,
I told him he’d have better luck at talking to the wall.
He showed me how the sun gave out its warmth across the land.
Sadness found me content and smiling upward at the sun.
He talked of droughts and blindness and what burning rays had done.
Happiness found me alone again and pointed to the sky.
He showed me how the storms created rainbows way up high.
Sadness found me intrigued and took me to the rainbow’s end.
He showed me how it disappeared to ne’er return again.
Happiness found me alone and taught me how to sing a song.
He sang a dozen melodies as I chirped right along.
Sadness found me singing out and covered up his ears.
He said the noise was deafening, and wished he couldn’t hear.
Happiness found me alone and gave me seven coins of gold.
He showed me many fancy things that merchants often sold.
Sadness found me admiring the pretty things I’d bought.
He pointed out my empty purse and money I had not.
Happiness found me alone and helped me talk to someone new.
He called the boy my friend and said that I was his friend too.
Sadness found me together with my kind, attentive friend.
He whispered of betrayal and how broken hearts don’t mend.
Happiness found me alone and held me tight in his embrace.
He whispered kindness in my ear and kissed me on the face.
Sadness found me with Happiness but before he spoke at all,
I told him he’d have better luck at talking to the wall.
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
The Jealous Sun
"The
sunlight whispers in my ear, his breath a warm, sultry tease. I shrink and duck beneath a tree. My eyes squint to scan the horizon for a
glimpse of the wind, but there are no ashen ribbons or golden waves in sight. He is missing.
Trickling,
tinkling notes reflect loudly off a chandelier of glimmering droplets. The rain sings to me, and I shield my eyes,
admiring the song. Far off in my western
view I expect to see snow, but the sun grows hot with jealousy, knowing
this. He refuses my snowman a place to
set.
My sight
drops to search for the man in the moon.
Normally he rises dripping wet from out of the lake, often pale and
naked, supple and soft to my caressing gaze.
On rare occasions he dons a pumpkin robe as luminous as fire. Today he is draped in silks of the saddest
blue. My heart weeps as he steals up and
away.
An
army of stars in shining armor come to my aid, and they force the sun into the
ground—a temporary grave. I am fed with
a billion bubbles of laughter until I feel I will burst. But the stars will not stop giving, and I
will not stop taking.
A
kiss brands my cheek, and I turn abruptly to find my snowman. He landed safely in the dark. We hide from the man in the moon behind a
curtain of flurries to dance on polished rainbows and feast on stars until I
hear a fire-red growl. The sun claws its
way out of the soil, and everyone scatters."
Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
The Devil's Rose
You would never take a rose from a beast. If his callous hand were to hold out a scarlet flower, his grip unaffected by pricking thorns, you would shrink from the gift and refuse it. I know that is what you would do.
But the cunning beast will have his beauty.
He hunts not in hopeless pursuit, for fear would have you sprint all the day long. Thus, he turns toward the shadows and clutches the rosebud, crunching and twisting until every delicate petal is detached. One falls not far from your feet, and you notice the red spot in the snow.
The color sparkles in the sunlight, catching your curious eye. No beast stands in sight; there is nothing to fear, so you dare retrieve the lone petal. The touch of temptation is velvet against your thumb. It carries a scent you bring to your nose, and both eyes close to float on a cloud of perfume.
As your lashes lift, another scarlet drop stains the snow at a near distance. A glance around perceives no danger, and so your footprints scar the snowflakes to retrieve another rosy leaflet as soft and sweet as the first. Your eye shine with flecks of golden greed at the discovery of more discarded petals, and you blame the wind for scattering them mere footprints apart. All you want is a few, so you step and snatch, step and snatch, step and snatch.
Soon, there is enough velvet to rub against your cheek like a silken kerchief. Your collection of one-plus-one-more reeks of floral essence.
Distracted, you jump at the sight of the beast in your path. He stands before his lair, grinning without love. His callous hands grip at thorns on a single naked stem, and you look down at your own hands that now cup his rose. But how can it be? You would never take a rose from a beast. You would shrink from the gift and refuse it.
He knows that is what you would do.
― Richelle E. Goodrich
Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich
Friday, April 4, 2014
Today―A Poem
Does this ever happen to you?
You're in the bathroom getting ready for the day when a poem starts chanting in your head and you have to grab a pen to write it down because it just keeps repeating itself? Yeah―thought so. These words wouldn't leave me alone this morning; I thought I'd share them...TODAY
"Today is the day that good things come your way and then bad things to suck all the fun from your play.
Today is the day that you stub every toe, blow your nose on a sleeve thinking no one will know.
Today is the day the sun bursts from the clouds and then sunbeams rain down as you smile and sing loud.
Today is the day that you meet someone new. You'll tickle his fancy―he'll tickle yours too.
Today you spend beaming, you'll sigh with a frown. You'll buoy up all happy and cry when let down.
Today is the day you will figure things out, 'cause today is called life and that's what life's about.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich
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