Best Richardson Poems
sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse
Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly
approachable. [1]
[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson
At times I would wonder when she would come to my
door my Nubian Queen to greet me with a smile and
stay for awhile as we reminisce on what could've been
or what will be she is the Nubian queen to me.
She is the sista that tells me she loves me no matter
what we go through she will be standing there by my
side holding my hand not letting me feel deprived
from the love she has too share.
she has captured my heart which has been torn apart
from the past love experiences
that greeted me with pain only to sit and cry in the
rain and ask why must I en dour such suffering? What
have I done to deserve a selfish out right wrong
sista who head was twisted on wrong When all my love
for her was strong.
I will never ever let another tear me down, crush my
dreams and my hopes of happiness within for my Nubian
queen whoever she maybe will guide me and nurture me
back to where I belong and that is love by a true
black Nubian queen she is too me.
Valeria Richardson
It's not the rain
that makes my eyes wet.
It hasn't rained in forty days.
Nights are long and quiet.
The silence cuts to bone.
It wasn't rain that quenched the fire.
It hasn't rained in forty nights.
The well is dry... so am I.
Nights I sit in silence
while it rains.
r ~ 4/19/14
copyright 2014. Rick Richardson
With the keys to a brand new car (a Nissan 350Z, a Chevy Corvette, or a BMW), I'll take it for a drive; I'll be driving on the streets of all suburban communities. And when I'm in any suburban community like Arlington, Plano, Richardson, or wherever, there's just no telling. I'm never going to spend my Saturday nights in the room of boredom or be confined to a place with these dull walls with nothing to do. I'd also rather be spending my Saturday nights driving on the streets of the suburbs than staying at home, watching TV or whatever. Sometimes I think that most drivers tune in for the night, but some of them don't-they tend to stay out all night. Driving in the suburbs will have made me feel serenaded and I will have had a real good time. I'll even have the car on auto-pilot and never stop. This is why all suburban communities (Addison, Plano, Allen, etc.) are my favorite parts of town; they're awesome, especially that of Orange, California. A real life joyride will have been way better than watching TV, being bored, even on a typical Saturday night. And after this awesome adventure on the streets of the suburbs and when the sun comes up, it'll be an adventurous Saturday night I'll never forget, including everybody else.
The Arctic Fire Bugs
Ice nights are the playpen
For the kids born to this land
Skating rinks and bowling shoes
Never touched a hand
Or foot that kicked at blocks of ice
As thick as you are tall
They scoff at jackets toss their hats
While through the drifts they crawl
Gather wood and getting high by tearing limbs from trees
Boozing up to get a buzz in temperatures that freeze
Building up a bonfire that will signal all their friends
Friday night is party night till sirens scream the end
Now it comes the fun part when they run from chasing cops
Scatter all directions and ignoring calls for “stop”--
Game they play that irritates and costs the city bucks--
What else is there to do unless they steal the fire trucks?
Note: In Alaska outback, bonfire is the key meeting place for teens--this poem is based on my teen son and his mode of fun in Valdez, Alaska--350+ miles from the next city--a town at the end of a long road (the Richardson Highway) with only one town tat the edge of the Bering Sea (often called North Sea).
Fire and Ice Contest
November 27, 2012
Victoria Anderson-Throop
I listen to a lot of contemporary Christian music because it's inspirational and
heart-warming. Listening to plenty of contemporary Christian music makes me wanting to
read the Holy Bible every single day. It's also as if I'm going to a contemporary
Christian community church in either Carrollton, Arlington, Richardson, or Plano.What I
really like about contemporary Christian music is when it's fused with a lot of pop music,
dance/techno music, rock music, and indie rock music. And out of all contemporary
Christian artists, my favorite artists are Delirious?, Amy Grant, Mark Willard, Aly &
A.J., Third Day, and others. The list goes on and on and on. These recording artists,
whose favorite genre is contemporary Christian music, are a bunch of great influences in
the lives of all of us contemporary Christan music fans, especially when he and/or she is
going to a Christian music concert. After I will have bought a contemporary christian
music CD from one of the music stores, I'll put it in a CD player and when I press play,
it'll be like I'm at a contemporary christian festival in a Georgia town called Albany, an
Arizona town called Yuma, and in Grapevine, Texas. If I had a lot of contemporary
Christian music albums in my collection of compact discs, then it's going to be like an
endless music festival. Unlike gospel music, contemporary Christian music is really
soothing and very relaxing. And if there's going to be a bunch of would-be recording
artists wanting to enter into the contemporary Christian music industry, we'll all be
ready. I wonder if we'll be able to find God in the near future?
Mr Strood
The high room, the bright light, the plentiful mirrors
the long sweep of lace curtains, the many faces..
She wondered whether music lessons were part
of her dreadful experiences
of playing before people. The very first time
she had played- a little running melody in the treble..
a page of minims, the minims had swollen
until she could not see whether they were lines or spaces,
her fingers had been so weak
after the first unexpectedly loud note
that her fingers suddenly stiffened
she worked them from her elbows like sticks-
dreadful movements - She heard nothing but
hard loud minims to the end,
As she stood, dizzily up, someone
said she had a nice touch-the piano should always remember
the clear pieces by heart-
through trembling fingers the notes
fumbled and slurred into each other.
At musical evenings she had both played and sung,
each time afresh to the effects which came
so easily when she was alone,
but she could not discover the secret of
when she had been
too miserable to be nervous
and Mr Strood, astonished, listening,
thrilled to her from behind the piano
Suzanne Delaney
Found Poem
Pointed Roofs
by Dorothy Miller Richardson
The bright light, plentiful mirrors
seemed more numerous here.
Miriam wondered whether music lessons
were part of her remuneration.
She thought of people,
the very first time she had played a duet-
a little running melody.. her own
part, a page of minims.
She heard nothing but her hard
loud minims to the end.
Someone said she had a nice firm touch
The piano should always remember the blue remark-
the piano had been unrecognizable,
she had learnt her pieces by heart
..alternately the notes, almost soundlessly.
At musicale evenings,
as winter had sung afresh the effects
she could not discover
the secret of the notes.
Suzanne Delaney
Found Poem
from Pointed Roofs
by Dorothy Miller Richardson
Get down! is no joke-
Amazon eyes meet
black, jungle eyes
No one backS down!
The genetic zipcode
has travelled over
two (2) continents
on a tight-rope
to say a false/friendly
"Good Morning/Buenos Dias!'"
We serve it up with a side order of MEANS WELL
like the Connecticut River in January
the pieces...peaces
float and bob upward near
cease-fire redemptions
just in case mutual dreams
come to fruition
during the Panasonic night.
Ellen Denise Richardson
10/8/12
Diggety Duggety
Emiline Richardson
Studied the Etruscans
Classically
Votive bronze objects, all
Archaeological:
What I dug up on her
Posthumously
Today I began to think of yesterday,
Realizing yesterday was today and will be tomorrow,
How I wonder shall I do today all over again knowing,
Tomorrow it will be yesterday , The pain as fresh as
morning dew, yet old like yesterday's news, I try to
go on to pretend to smile through another day, Still
wondering how to make tomorrow not like yesterday,
I cry I sigh my mind reals the pain of the past, Why
does it feel so fresh, Yet I go on fighting striving,
for tomorrow, My pain is deep my sadness to the
bone, my mind so worn my smile so frail, Then
I awake again today knowing how I felt just yesterday,
Maybe just maybe I say to my self, today won't be like
yesterday, Tomorrow may come soon enough I'll
know when I go on another day!!!
Written by: Shawna Richardson
Known as 'The Big Bopper'
He preceded the Big Mac, but not the Whopper
His real name was J.P. Richardson
His songs a barrel of monkeys, full of fun
We all know J.P. liked 'Chantilly Lace'
Just wild for her ponytailed pretty face --
When he called her on the phone
All he did was moan and groan --
Seems 'Miss Lace' put 'The Bopper' in his place...
Then in Clear Lake Iowa, 1959, on February 3
An airplane crash took the Bopper's life tragically
That was the day America's music died
~ Immortalized in Don McClean's 'American Pie'
September 04 2019
Clerimerick Couplets (Hybrid Form) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
You listened, you shared and you guided me.
You told me of what times would come to be.
I had to weather it, there was no shelter for me.
You held my eyes open so I could see.
And you were always there, no matter the wrong.
But the day came quick that you were gone.
You left the same way that we all must go.
A place uncertain that no one can fully know.
I imagine you in a shimmering place.
I still see the last smile upon your lovely face.
Sometimes I can't hold the tears back in the night.
But I've tried real hard to heal myself right.
I won't do the injustice to remember with dispair.
Instead I will let linger the warm feeling of your care.
I often gaze at a white swirling cloud.
I tell myself true, I must make you proud.
And so in your story I will not let erase.
I feel glimpses of your presence, there is a small trace.
There are so many things in this life that I fear.
And GOD knows I miss you my grandmother dear.
Yet together in a way our hearts remain bound.
For the gift you have left me I finally found.
***in memory of Leola Richardson 1925-2008 *****
A LIFE QUICKLY OVER
A life so quickly over as soon as it was born,
You were so devastated when it came on that morn.
You shed your tears of sorrow, and yet by faith you knew
It has a perfect body now up there in the blue.
Now trust your God completely for Him to now provide
The comfort He has promised and to be there by your side.
You may not know the reason He chose this child to take,
But all things work together for good and for your sake.
I know you’ll meet this child in heaven some glad day,
And all the grief and sorrow God then will take away.
So take this message with you as the coming days you face:
My prayers and tears are with you, and may God give you grace.
Dedicated to the Richardson family (Ron Meldrum’s daughter & son-in-law) in the passing of their newborn baby.
No one ever promised me a fairy tale life,
there for my dreams were never out of reach,
I allways knew the road would be bumpy, and
the storm clouds never far ahead,
Did you not know that I don't need diamonds
and gold or a mansion by the sea, are you to
blind to see all I wanted was your heart, You
may look at me and say she's all used up
she has nothing to give, I then challenge you
to believe I have kept one sacred thing no one
has yet to see, I threw these things in a place,
that no one could find, a treasure worth more
than riches ,you see it's quite simple I saved
the best for last, something that has not been
touched, It's my heart you see, and untill
you break it free you'll never see the best
part of me! The fairy tale I have hidden so well!!
Written By: Shawna Richardson