(Inspired by Fortunate Son)
Some folks wave the flag on high,
And shout the reason soldiers die.
They speak of duty, proud and loud,
From marble halls above the crowd.
Some folks dine where power stays,
And praise the war on cable days.
They toast the troops with polished tone,
While none they love will ever go.
They call for courage from the land,
They talk of glory close at hand.
But when the papers list the names,
Their families never join the flames.
I hear the drums across the sand,
Another convoy leaves the land.
Another mother waits alone,
Beside a silent telephone.
The wealthy heirs sleep safe at night,
Their wars are fought on screens of light.
Their boots stay clean, their hands stay dry,
While poorer sons must march and die.
So when they ask who answers call,
Who walks the desert, dust and all,
Look past the mansions standing tall,
You will not find their sons at all.
By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.
March 2026~
The watchman wakes to the drone of the swarm,
The falconer’s voice lost in the engine’s scream;
Damascan sands shift beneath the iron tread,
And ancient Elam stirs from its long-held dream.
The midnight hour is bruised by crimson flare,
The innocent bartered for a desert throne;
Diplomats falter, hollowed of their prayer,
While zealots reap the whirlwind they have sown.
A sign, the temple veil is torn once more;
The end draws near; the King stands at the gate.
Prepare the way through smoke of Eastern shore,
Behold the Lord who masters time and fate.
The martyrs rise when His command is heard;
The Kingdom comes—fulfilled in Christ the Word.
By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.
There once was a boy name of Rick
So ugly he made his girl sick,
When nighttime descended
The girl soon repented
And loved him quite lickedy-split!
There once was a girl name of Donna
Who spent lots of time in the sauna
She might once have been pretty,
And her titties were bitty,
Ugly Rick still thought her Nirvana.
He was renowned for his good looks
when I met this young man,
--at work, admittedly, gadzooks!
'Twas about four a.m.
He was one with lots on his mind
arms on the desk, leaning,
offered water, but he declined,
now face to face, smiling.
His thorn, a Hollywood idol,
a while will be a pain
hand fanned me close, his truth was told
till he boarded a plane.
Soon nineteen-eighty will then square
I know what's coming next ...
suite keys for this one-song wonder
plus for his replaced ex.
His family are known figures,
both his mom and his dad,
and his older brother, and him
too! Pointless 'Want Ad'.
There was in a Christmas play, Daddy Nick
Whose role was to wrap presents surely quick
Dressed in Sta. Claus' best...
But while showing his jest
Special kids had chosen their precious pick.
So Daddy Nick joyously changed his trick
To act as fantastic, yet looking sick
The children prayed with zest...
"Lord, keep us glad and blest
Heal Sta. Claus, grant him well-being stick."
Rescuing readily was Papa Rick
Laughing heartily* with his funny kick
Smiting gloominess-pest
With gifts for all the rest
Thus, everyone smiled midst photograph's click.
*Proverbs 17:22 - A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.
December 9, 2023
2nd place, "Any theme Any form" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet; judged on 12/10/2023
3rd place, "Funny Santa Claus Poem - Old or New" Poetry Writing Contest Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 12/13/2023
I was going to swap my brain for another
but then i changed my mind
thought i seen a bus
but that was just unfinished business
U something S has come between
Feel that your skin
-----------------under
If crows
killed in a group
would that be a murderous murder of crows
i've always liked the sheen atop the black oil
are you comfortable sat in
cottoned on yet
polly was taken esterday
vas can swap
i will gently crepe on by
hidden by da mask
what was he that stood before me
was he himself or was he a zombie
i emptied my rounds
in his brain it was found
but my heart at the plight abhorred me
there once was a poet named Richard
who drank tequila by the pitcher
from sources of an insider
he used to be Dee Snider
cut his hair and quit Twisted Sister
There once was a poet named Rick
Whose dancing sure had some kick
He moves like Mick Jagger
And sure has his swagger
His dance moves so cool and so slick
He has a sense of humour,
That’s second to none,
Anything for a laugh,
He’s so much fun.
He proof reads our poetry,
He sometimes gets it incorrect,
When he advises us,
He does it with respect.
He’s kind and caring,
He truly is quite sweet,
Getting to know him,
Is the sweetest treat.
He knows the difference,
Between “You’re and Your”,
However, I get the feeling,
He’s got it wrong before.
He may on occasion,
Allow his pen to run dry,
That’s enough,
To make a poet cry.
There’s one last thing to say,
Before I finish,
I hope his wit and humour,
Never do diminish.
There once was a lady sublime
Who complained for sex had no time.
Considering my bent, she was not heaven-sent.
And her name has no place in this rhyme.
No pants rick
Rick never wore no pants or any kicks
He always walked around with nothing but a shirt
Ones he fell and landed on his legs, i bet that sure hurt
But he just stood up and walked home
He never has a phone, wallet, not even a comb
He just always has on that polo
some say he's a homo!
He would always give you a nickel for a bowl of jello
I just wish he'd wear some clothes
He always goes to the bakery and walks out with to loaves
Rick is very odd
He doesn't like to sit on chairs so he just sits on his ipod
I heard he was dropped on his head when he was little
I tried asking him but he always just tells me a riddle
It never makes any since
He always says the chicken always dies by a fence
Then one day my chicken was missing.
My snake was okay in his cage hissing
I went outside to find my chicken dead
He was laying there without his head
When i seen the blood i winced
The chicken had died by the fence
And then i seen no pants rick
He looked at me and said he had hit it with a brick
I hate freaking no pants rick!!!!!!!!!
A gentle soul was our friend Rick,
Who never had a bone to pick
With anyone or anything,
His kindness worth admiring.
He loved the ocean and the bay
And fishing really made his day.
The time he spent on LBI
Imbued him with a natural high.
Both Brett and Evan knew they had
An extra-special loving dad
Who took great pride in all they’d do
(Which lately, too, included Woo).
Rick lived a most contented life
With Tracie, his devoted wife.
As high school sweethearts ‘til the end,
He knew on her he could depend.
Our get-togethers, through the years,
Were spent imbibing lots of beers
And sharing meals to help us rally
After every bowling alley.
How we’ll miss our loyal friend!
It’s hard for us to comprehend
That we’ll no longer see his face
Or get to feel his warm embrace.
But in our hearts, where mem’ries thrive,
Dear Rick is very much alive.
He’s smiling in the salty air
Of LBI – I see him there.
Romantic writer his poems exquisite
Invigorating us with his words
captivating, enchanting and enhancing
Knight of the poetry Soup realm
a tribute for all the help and mentoring you have given me
I met a writer named, Richard Lime
Who wrote poems with only five lines
By swapping his name
He realized his fame
Thus inventing the Limerick rhyme
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