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Best Richard Moriarty Poems

Below are the all-time best Richard Moriarty poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Rivers of Time

Like rivers of time / our lives drift by /
as seasons / providing  the trees / 
acquire soft, green leaves / and then in time / 
turning red and golden / shed their leaves.

Travelers in time are all / like a wind 
sweeping across the plains of life / visitors in a temporary land / 
enjoying moments of bright sunny days / filled with fun and joy /
soon to be followed by sudden storms / 
and then dark hours / followed again by 
the brightness of the day / rivers of time /
carrying each traveler through his day / waiting /
waiting for the next to arrive /

Time an ever moving thing / a river /
carrying each person / in turbulent white water /
or calm flowing streams / through all events of life /
then stranding him on a rocky and barren shore / or 
other times / gently laying him upon soft and lush meadows / 
to rest as in a quiet and calm place /

Finally on the appointed day / a call goes forth / and
the wayfarer receives his summons / to quickly go /
moving through time / to stand in a queue / moving to an unknown space /
together with others summoned / to appear at some distant place /

The queue is formed / the line moves forward / the time has arrived
to board / those great ships of time / like the giant Leviathan / casts
off from near harbors / and then ever moving / to arrive at some distant

Like rivers of time / our lives drift by / a season at a time /
travelers all / in a moment in time.

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

Heaven's Gate

There is a place far from here yet not so far, but really near a place whose door is open wide a place where everyone is welcomed inside. Heaven's Gate is its name it's a place where all who enter are treated the same. It is the door to a place of rest for all who enter are treated with the best a place where calm and peace prevail where beauty and love are not for sale all are given free and clear a home for all with nothing but cheer. It was bought with the life of the man inside given to us as a sign of his love and marked on the door is a descending dove. It is a place where there is no envy or hate, and all who come are welcome to enter Heaven's Gate.

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True Love

A love that is not given freely,
is no love at all.

A love that is wanting,
is a love that is wasted.

A love that has a price upon it,
cannot be returned.

A love that is freely shared and given,
is a love that will last forever.

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

Old Shoes

I opened the closet and walked on in
my foot hit something that fallen from its bin.
An old pair of shoes - wrinkled and worn,
lay out on the floor reminding me of a long lost friend.

Quite a story old shoes can tell
where we've gone - a life that's been lived well.
Oh, I know that some folks
don't care about the past,
only the present - 'cause times are just too fast.

But old shoes go slow
with memories from so long ago
of times good and bad
smiles and tears
of things happy and sad.

Old shoes are like friends, they stay around
in good times and bad,
they are really quite sound.

At times we struggle in life to find
a place of happiness, peace and a companion to be kind.
Old shoes are with us every step of the way
through good times and bad
bright days and sad.

Old shoes are like good friends
you don't throw away
just tuck them back
and bring them out another day.

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

Stop - Look - and Listen

A fish and a turtle were out at sea the fish darted by and said 'look at me' I can swim fast and scoot, can even swim faster than you, too boot. The turtle plodded along and said to the fish...'this is where I belong' I may be slow and not very fast but I can get where I want to go, and won't finish last. The fish ran along, swift as could be and taunted the turtle to get out of his sea. The turtle said the sea belongs to us all it was meant to be free. The fish swam by and said watch, I can catch that fish...its smaller than me. But the turtle warned there are troubles sometimes in the sea. The fish only laughed and grabbed the small fish when suddenly a line went tight and a hook was set.... and he couldn't get free.

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

The Clock

He greets everyone as soon as they enter the hall with a great big smile on his full moon-like face arms always moving, no matter the time or place. Just wind him up and he never stops running, not allowed to keep time from losing no matter the pace. The tick of the clock I thought would never stop it kept on going no matter the day; day or night the pendulum swung with each quarter hour the chimes were rung. He's seen so much in our life pass by keeping on measuring it tick by tick counting the hours lick by lick. Each day that comes his friendly face is there ticking and chiming all the way. This old friend has been here many a year greeting me and all who enter day by day he just keeps on going never getting tired or slowing down his face always smiling, never a frown. How I love to see his face knowing that he will greet me when I enter the place never a miss of the tick of the clock as long as the pendulum swings he never stops.

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Fleeting Love

A love that is written in the sand will be erased by a rising tide.

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The old man and the mule

A faint outline appeared in the early morn 
a full moon still shed its light, dark shadows 
spread across the land casting an eerie 
shadow over the far distant hills. 
An old buckboard clattered along a dusty 
road bumping roughly over pot holes 
washed out by an early winter rain. 

The old mule plodded along - ribs 
showing from a life of hard work prolonged, 
a rather tired animal trudging slowly along 
tugging at its heavy load. 

The old man sat humped over on the seat, 
nodding as though he was asleep. 
A low hanging branch served to awaken him as 
it slapped sharply against the side of his head 
causing him to sit up straight, grabbing his hat 
that was about to be shed. 

A road traveled more than once, 
from the old farm down to the general store, 
bumping along on rutted roads, filled with 
holes, not a friendly ride it was, but 
one that both the rider and mule 
had made many times. 

On either side of the road rows of tall trees standing straight 
with leaves long since gone, the trunks 
appearing as gaunt ribs rising up from the ground 
much as the old mule appeared, 
as it pulled its heavy load quietly by. 

The day was cold, a north wind blew, chilling 
both with icy fingers that cut to the bone; 
but the old man and the mule just plodded along, 
going silently down that dusty road bumping 
over the ruts and pot holes worn by time and use itself; 
two old friends working and waiting, serving out time 
as they repeated their daily chores. 

Time and work takes its toll, 
as man and beast move along 
worn and traveled roads 
doing never ending chores of old 
until the end of a road is finally reached. 

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

Rat A - Tat- Tat

Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat the drums did roll and beat the men in their uniforms how they stood so tall and trim and neat, by ranks and files and squads they stood with weapons, packs and flags the flower of our nation's youth did march to the drummers' beat. Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat off to the wars they marched with waves goodbye, and speeches of pride they marched away while their loved ones cried. Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat While one could question the wisdom of war no one could doubt the soldier's scars, war after war they were sent... and bravely wherever sent - they went. Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat The drums did roll and beat the men in their uniforms how they stood so tall and trim and neat, and off to the wars they marched to the sound of the drummers' beat. Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat In battles they won to keep us free but not without a price for victory. They returned from places with names so strange but some returned to a different beat, with a slow roll, slow march - mournful and sad they brought our loved ones home again. To a grateful nation they gave their all without a whimper or complaint they saw it all and returned from places far away battered and scarred - but free. Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat Soon the sound of drums were heard and leaders did call again... with struts and speeches that sounded so grand off our youth were sent with a band Rat a - Tat - Tat; Rat a - Tat- Tat. Dedicated in loving memory to all who served.

Details | Richard Moriarty Poem

Morning Mist and Summer Rain

Morning Mist and Summer Rain Far away from the noise of the city I walked in the quiet of a country lane nothing to distract me this day but the morning mist, turning into a summer rain. I was born to be free from my troubles born to smell the freshness of the day nothing to accompany me on my trip but the morning mist, turning into a summer rain. There are times when I must be free, away from the cares and worries of this life, when I can walk alone in this world with nothing but the morning mist, turning into a summer rain. Sometimes in all my wanderings I talk with my God up above, it's amazing what I will hear, when walking in a morning mist, turning into a summer rain. A symphony of sounds are present from the creatures who live nearby, from the call of a coyote drifting on the wind to the birds in their nests where they lie, all add to the beauty of this day, when filled with nothing but a morning mist....turning into a summer rain. My love for life is all around given by a God who cares from up above, it is seen most clearly on a country lane when walking in a morning mist, turning into a summer rain.