RickThePoet

Soccer Girl

She limped into the house
Scabby knee
Angry frown
Complaining about her homework.

She was a new daughter
Fast and furious
Too young for coffee in the morning
Rooting for the wrong team.

The bruises on my arm
stood as garish reminders
of the strength of her grip.

She stormed through life
like a tornado
Whirling and spinning
Until her subjects
knelt in obedience
to her will.

I wanted to run away
until she approached
and with a hug
and an “I love you, PaPa”
melted my resolve
and quieted my fears

I love watching football
with a soccer girl
Who is stronger than I am.

Death of Our Fathers

He stood at the grave.
The soldiers were at attention
and the mourners bore sad witness
to his Father’s passing.
He remembered the stern voice
demanding whether his homework was complete
and the smell of dirt
on the baseball field
where they played.
He still tasted the Coca Cola at the All-Star game
when he walked just about everyone
and his Father left him in the game.

Death is a journey
the Priest said
in a calm voice
as if he really knew
what lay on the other side
of Midnight.

What do we think
while we pass through the rituals
of death

What does God think
of the blindness
that keeps us from seeing Him
as we wonder
what our funeral
will look like
and whether everyone
will be sad.

None of us will lie in State
nor leave a legacy
like his.

None of us will pass
this way again.

First Person, Singular

Sometimes I think that if I write
a poem
in the first person
the truth I must tell
will kill me.

I am alone when I write
except when I write for you.

The singularity of my aloneness
seems more acceptable
when I write to you.

I think that poems wouldn't exist
without beautiful women to write them for.

I remember the first time that I saw you
in person
first person
singular
smiling a perfect smile
and catching my heart in your eyes.
I was uncomfortable
being alone
and you comforted me.
I was stupidly
clumsy
and you helped me.

Did you know
that I loved you
from that moment?

Maybe first person truth
won't kill me after all.        

Deliberation

He wondered whether ecstasy was a lie
a whisper lost in daily lives
filled with responsibility
and debt
Was love an illusion
shimmering over blue water
created by sunlight
filtered through the trees
unrecognizable
like the truth told to strangers
on first dates?

Could absolute truth
salve the wounds of the past
and bind the broken limbs
and broken hearts?

He resolved to move slowly
but his resolve
melted in the milky white skin
of her beauty
and the purity of her soul.

He knew that he would pursue her
with the intensity
of a flame
burning with desire
and longing
secure in the knowledge
of her love.