Best Ritter Poems
This is quite a bit overdue my friends
It's an ode to Brussel Sprouts
Those delicious spherical bundles of joy
Not too popular hereabouts
Poor wee fellows just want to be loved
Along with the other veggies
They've long had a real image problem
About as popular as a wedgie
Thinking of starting a worldwide petition
Any Soupers wishing to join
Send a hundred dollars to me, Jester Jack
You'll receive a commemorate coin
Along with the coin you'll receive a bushel
Of these oh so luscious little critters
As a bonus for ordering before December
An autographed picture of John Ritter
Hey, it rhymes doesn't it !!!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Chocolate Indulgences (20150129)
If I really had no choice but to divulge,
In mountains of chocolate I would indulge.
I'm not just taking about Snickers,
Reese's peanut butter cups, Butterfingers,
Or other grocery store sweeties.
I'm talking about the expensive stuff, most from oversea:
Fruit and nut bars from British Cadbury,
Milk molasses chips from local Mrs. See's,
Fudge Easter Eggs from domestic Helen Grace,
Belgian praline Sea Shells from Leonidas,
Belgian Cote D'Or bouche pralines,
And from Germany's Ritter Sport--EVERYTHING!
Wallowing in glorious chocolate, I'd be so pathetic,
If not for the fact, that I'm a diabetic.
there was a kidder who sat on a *hitter
he pushed long and hard for he was no quitter
but nothing came out
he left with a pout
that gritty old kidder was named Tex Ritter
A letter to you
Dear daughter of mine,
Please don't cry! Please don't ask why.
For I have gone to heaven to plat my banjo. For the great Bill Monroe.
It will be not a song of sorrow that I play tomorrow.
For I will play on the stage with a lady named Patty Page.
I will not play to bitter, but with the great Tex Ritter.
So the music you hear in the sky will not make you cry.
For God only wants me to play my banjo.
Love,
Your dear old dad.
I am an American Soldier
In the Special Forces, of woes
My Duty in Iraq, gives me such fear
Yet, I stand in the midst of my Foes
I live and I sleep, on the Battlefield
I dream of my family, back home
I wake up with bullets around me
Open Wounds and many Broken Bones.
They say, that I’m fighting for Freedom
I should stand tall and not cry, with fear
But the pain that I see, all around me
Makes me question the Freedom, we give
For the ones whose Freedom, we’re fighting for
Is not wanted, when we’re Spilling the Blood
So, why do we fight for a freedom?
When it is not welcomed, with the enemies Love.
Yes, I’ll stand and fight for their Freedom
I will still give my Life for their Right
To live in a Land where Freedom should ring
Without Harm, Evil or Plight
I may not have all of the answers
For others to see and accept
I only know that I want to go home
Be at peace with my Duty, Then Rest.
By: Patty Ritter
London rain and Texan skies
Warm my heart and thrill my eyes
Flooded streets and clouds for miles
Think I’ll stay here for a while
Bright red buses and trusty steeds
Carry my spirit wherever they lead
City bustling and cattle at graze
This is where I spend my days
Royal parks with Texas Rangers
Sounds of home could not be stranger
London Symphony plays Tex Ritter
Here is where you’ll see me linger
Buckingham Palace address Dealey Plaza
My horizon spans farther and vaster
Cockney slang welcomes y’all
To a place my happiness befalls
Union Jack flies Stars and Stripes
A family parted again unites
An English rose with roots state side
A love of each, to both I’m tied
Green grow the lilacs, the old song still rings true,
Tex Ritter and Johnny Cash sang out the notes in colors blue.
How is it I remember the song still so clear today
as lilacs scent spring air of a sweetheart love with emeralds displayed
both oceaned dark and fern feathered green but hidden and jaded.
Sad songs in life are shaded by the forest green and words of sages
as love burns hot red purple passioned in the sea of enveloped envy
and shamrocks march in the sun's reflection now, almost empty.
Lost to the soul and singer's original intent by indulged imbibed absinthe
fading to shades of florescence curling through lost love's labyrinth.
Green grow the lilacs, sparkling with dew,
I miss you my love, how I miss you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5xWkhEL8-o
8D
my mind is an open book.
read it and have a look.
"Open" said Crow.
"We near the brook"
"Stones are there and
little by little does the trick.
Love the journey... it's the
Mother of all invention.
==============================
http://www.usatoday.com/tech/science/discoveries/2009-08-06-aesop-experiment_N.htm?csp=34
Article By Malcolm Ritter, Associated Press
NEW YORK — From the goose that laid the golden egg to the race between the tortoise and
the hare, Aesop's fables are known for teaching moral lessons rather than literally being
true. But a new study says at least one such tale might really have happened.
It's the fable about a thirsty crow. The bird comes across a pitcher with the water level
too low for him to reach. The crow raises the water level by dropping stones into the
pitcher. (Moral: Little by little does the trick, or in other retellings, necessity is the
mother of invention.)
This is quite a bit overdue my friends
It's an ode to brussel sprouts
Those delicious spherical bundles of joy
Not too popular hereabouts
Poor wee fellows just want to be loved
Along with all the other veggies
They've long had a real image problem
About as popular as a wedgie
Thinking of starting a worldwide petition
Anybody wishing to join
Send a hundred dollars to me, Jester Jack
You'll receive a commemorate coin
Along with the coin you'll receive a bushel
Of these oh so luscious little critters
As a bonus for ordering before December
An autographed picture of John Ritter
Hey, it rhymes doesn't it !!!
Blueberry and cherry, and home-made apple pie,
Country girls bake them, the apple of your eye;
Each pie’s got a number—which one will you choose?
Look at all those country girls, looking right at you.
It’s a Pie-Supper Summer, in Nineteen and Thirty-Eight,
Down at the school house—you know you can’t be late;
Lemonade and coffee, wash that pie right down;
Your friends and your neighbors, from the hills and from the town.
It’s a Pie-Supper Summer, in the Ozark mountain hills,
Mighty big appetite--you know you’re going to get your fill;
It’s a Pie-Supper Summer in the Ozark mountain hills:
You can shut your eyes…you can see that picture still.
Billy brings along his Gene Autry, Sears guitar,
He likes Tex Ritter, and those cowboy picture stars;
Bill buys a pie prepared by Becky Lou—
Look at all those young folks…sneaking off two-by-two!
Becky. She says “Now Billy, I think we’d better get hitched soon—
I can see Daddy’s shotgun reflecting the Ozark moon!”
So they get married down in Arkansas, late one Saturday—
Billy’s dropping out of school…now he’s baling hay.
Pearl Harbor comes along in December of Forty-One—
On an Okinawa Beach, Billy tests out his M-1 gun—
His mama gets a Gold Star—and he never got to know his kid,
And Becky, she don’t say nothing…she keeps those feelings hid.
And you know that Time, Time, Time has a way of adjusting
All your dreams,
And the years, keep right on flowing
Like an Ozark mountain stream.
Becky lives in Springfield in a high-rise all alone,
And her son performs in Branson, in a theater all his own;
On Decoration Day she puts a wreath on a hero’s grave,
And she shuts her eyes and looks at yesterday.
It’s a Pie-Supper Summer, in the Ozark mountain hills,
Mighty big appetite, you know you’re going to get your fill,
It’s a Pie-Supper Summer, in the Ozark mountain hills—
You can shut your eyes…you can see that picture still.
Blueberry and cherry, and home-made apple pie;
Country girls bake them, the apple of your eye;
Each pie’s got a number—which one will you chose?
Look at all those country girls, looking right at you.
der herzog Von eleganz und of
vermogen over a herzlos held sent
to verpfanden der Ritter shattered
behind a gefuhl Von gluck
After Goethe's "Ritter Kurts Brautfahrt"
Sire Gaddabout one spring-tide morn
his sturdy dappled steed did mount.
for he would wed the highly born
Maid Ethrelda Holyfount
He plucked his lute and sang an air,
but scarce a league was trod
than came a cry. "Beware, beware!
Here comes the knave, Sire Heaviplodde.
"Sire Heaviplodde, my mortal foe?
Seeks he this day a fight?
'Tis him or me a mortal blow
must soon dispatch to endless night."
Sir Heaviplodde in armor black
rode up to mock and jeer.
Then said he, holding high a a sack:
"Your head will serve as souvenir."
"Make good, black knight, your foolish boast,"
stern-faced Sire Gaddabout did cry,
"or by ye saints your wretched ghost
full soon the Stygian strait must ply."
The shields did clash, the horses snort,
the dust did fly, the swords did ring,
and, to cut a long tale short,
'twas Heaviplodde who knew death’s sting.
A fulsome wench with babe at breast
stood steadfast in the way.
Sire Gaddabout at her behest
stopped for to hear what she might say.
She raised her babe for him to see,
she cocked her head and with a sneer
said:" Knight at arms, remember me?
You left behind this souvenir."
On seeing this the knight did blush.
He bade his squire go fetch some beer.
Then said he to the young girl "Hush,
this bag of gold should help out, dear."
Past hill, past hamlet, wood and mire,
he rode with noble carriage.
Might even yet the fates conspire
to dash all hopes of marriage?
Who stood with visage grim and old
to guard the way before?
A man in black held up a scroll,
whereon were writ the debts of yore.
Not all the gold the knight did hold,
not lands, not herds, his dowry,
could e'er redeem his debts of old
accrued in youthful folly.
"I have sinned" the knight did weep,
"and mercy is my plea.
I must to church my pledge to keep
in holy matrimony."
The grim collector smiled and said:
"As bridegroom you today are free.
Your past is like a shadow fled.
What counts today is what shall be."
Have All Been in Heaven
While wondering where all the time went,
Asked God to graciously give me a hint;
Might be near well when I was wishing
Or times you found me to be fishing.
Throughout life poems have been writing;
Were great and by Queen she was knighting;
A Poet Laureate want to end up being
Title on me by President be decreeing.
Made deal with God after I did wrangle;
Make me become a bright, new angel;
Have everyone in heaven start to rejoice;
Vast improvements were applied to my voice.
My fingers, forever flew through the air,
Writing beautiful poems beyond compare;
God read them not finding anything wrong,
And each one became an unbelievable song.
There is Presley, Porter and Charlie Pride,
And Rich and Ritter romping right beside,
Wagging their tails and singing slick songs;
Now are all in heaven where each one belongs.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
they rode boldly across the silver screen,
these hero's of my youth;
they lived their lives by the "code of the west",
and honor was a part of that code,
truth and honor was in their blood;
my hero's lived their lives by this code,
they lived boldly up there on the big screen,
so much bigger than life;
yes,these were my hero's,
these brave men who rode on horse back,
and who carried the law in a holster,
while riding tall in the saddle;
oh how i eagarley followed their exploits,
men like Roy rogers and the Cisco Kid,
along with Gene Autry ,John Wayne,and the Lone Ranger;
these men kept the law in the wild west,
along with hop-a-long,and Tex Ritter,
and i anxiously followed their adventures,
until that sad,sad day when---,
they rode off into the sun set;
yes, they rode off into the sunset,
old John,Roy, and Gene,
they rode off into the sunset,and no one took their place;
how sad i felt on that dark dreary day,
when my hero's rode away,
but no one took their place,
and,no one took their place.
She is so gentle, like a feather in Winter
Covering the Creation, like a Blanket of Love
Her touch like a dewdrop, blankets the flowers
Her message of Purity, sounds like a Dove.
She carries a message, like virgins in hiding
That Whispers sweet nothings, into one's ear
Untouched by the stillness, of covering light flames
Her Beauty will linger, till she feels the rain.
She is a Diamond, that glitters in Darkness
She's pure in perfection, with gentle heart songs
She fills up our spirit, with warmth like the sunshine
She sings out our Dreams, like a Bird singing Songs.
PandaP1
Patty Ritter