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Richard Riddle Jun 2016
(revised 06-26-16)

There are many, very good poets- (on this site)
There are many, very good writers-(also on this site)

Different styles-
Different ideas-
Conveyance of thought

"A writer can describe a bowl of fresh fruit-
whereas, a poet can smell one!"*

Then, There are those-
who can do both!
              v
              v


"Good Morning, Sally!"

"Good Morning, Vicki!"

copyright: richard riddle 10-16, 2015
revised: 06-26-2016



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Richard Riddle Jun 2016
An hour before sunrise,
not long before  going home-

It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn-
silent......... serene-
As I step into the woods

I know they're watching,
those denizens of the forest-
Raccoon, possum, birds, etc.

I purse my lips
emit a soft whistle-
No reply
Another....no reply

A few more steps......then..
the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove-
"How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting

A raccoon appears in front of me,
the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding
In the underbrush, and in the trees.

They are "The Angels",
"You are safe with us", his eyes tell me-*
It is then I know,  it's going to be..... a "good day."


r. riddle 06-26-2016
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
For all of the newcomers to the site, and you 'old comers', too.)*

On December 16, 2013, in my work titled "Thank You",  was the first time I used the term "Poet's Train" for all of the contributors to the HP site. For that is exactly what it is. It also reminds me of times that have passed.
My grandparents lived in Joshua, Texas, a small town not far from the city of Fort Worth. Their house was only about 100 yards, or less, from the railroad tracks. Every evening around six o'clock we would hear the faint moan of the first whistle. My brother and me, both little tykes(6-10), would run to the back porch, anticipating the subsequent whistles from a huge piece of machinery. As the whistle grew louder, we could see the column of smoke billowing from the coal-burning engine as it neared. All of a sudden, there it was. We weren't the only ones that stood and watched, for there is something magical about trains, that attract both young, and old.
Our biggest delight however, did not lie with the train itself, but waving to the passengers and engineers as it passed, seeing them wave back, blowing that whistle in gentle acknowledgement, as if saying, "Good to see you, thanks for coming, have a great day!"
So it is with the "Poet's Train." When a piece is posted the whistle blows, each piece becomes a boxcar. Each writer, a passenger; their computer, the engine, and every reader waving as it passes. Its length, infinite, with no caboose. It will come the next day, the next night, with new passengers, with new cargo. I love it. I really do!

copyright: richard riddle, December 19, 2014
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
K: "Good morning, and Happy Father's Day!"
R: "Thank you! Hoping I would hear from you, and, before I forget, Happy Birthday to you, tomorrow!
K: "Time goes by fast, doesn't it."
R: "Yea, too fast."
K: "Are you doing okay?"
R: "Yes, but I miss you, wish you were here."
K: "I'm there, always will be."
R: "Yes. you will."
K: "Evan and Emily are really growing, look older than they are."
R: "Don't you know it. Evan is nearly 6'3" at 15 years old, Emily is 5"10, and only 12. Evan's getting ready for the upcoming hockey season,   not sure what Emily wants to do."
K: "In a few more months you will be 75."
R: "Don't remind me! At least, I've stopped growing!"
K: "That's funny! You could always make me laugh."
R: "Tried to, miss that!"
R: "Any new rumors floating around up there?"
K: "Nope, just watching, waiting to see what's going to happen, other than what has already been said by you know who."
R: "Guess He's the only one that knows."
K: "A very well-kept secret."
R: "I'm sure it is."
K: "Tell Russ, Mea, Evan and Emily 'high' for me, and that I love them and miss them."
R: "I will, and they know that. You take care, will talk to you later."
K: "Sounds good, love you, bye-bye!"


r.riddle: June 19, 2016
*what else can  I say. 8 1/2 years ago complications from cancer took her away.*
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
My wife, Karen, and I were watching the opening ceremony, soon, the lighting of the torch. It was a well-kept secret as to who would light the flame.
When the spotlights came on, the arena went wild! Mohammad Ali! Holding the torch in his right-hand, his left, shaking from the Parkinsons. Karen and I both felt tears coming down our cheeks.

Mr. Ali, that night you displayed the meaning of the word, "PRIDE!"

"Rest in Peace", MISTER ALI. You ARE the fighter, you always claimed to be!"

r.riddle 06-10-2016
This event can be viewed on You Tube.
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
I received an invitation to go camping. An opportunity to:

"Commune with nature"

"Become, 'one'....... with the elements"
                             V
                             V
                             V
.                                        











  
"Waaa­hahahee-hee!, don't make me laff!-hahaha-hoho-hahahaa!!"



r.riddle 06-10-2016
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
Tuesday- 7:30 am: Home from work
                   Feed the cat
                    Have breakfast
                    run errands - buy cat food
                    Go to bed
                     9:30pm:
                     Get up-eat dinner
                     Feed the cat
                     Go to work
Copy/Paste for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday

"Pick myself up!
"Dust myself off!

"And start all over again!"

richard riddle: 06-07-2016
Song-"Pick Yourself Up": Nat King Cole: can be viewed on You Tube. I took the liberty of substituting "myself" in place of "yourself" which is in the original title.
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