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Amy Richie Poem
Green Colored Grass
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence,
But that fence is so high off the ground.
I search for a ladder so I can get across,
But neither a ladder or even a foot stool can be found.
I look at the fence with a critical eye,
Why do you have to be so difficult, I shout.
I shake my fist and become so mad,
Then I cross my arms and sit to pout.
Why would God want to tempt me so much,
I just want to see that rich, green grass growing.
For my own grass is brown and looking dead,
Soon even the dirt underneath will be showing.
I have heard all the people talking of that grass over there,
They say it is soft enough to make a bed.
I raise my head with a soft smile on my face,
All the while visions of the other grass were in my head.
When I finally decided I would just climb the fence,
The sun was already starting to go down.
Would I really have to wait for the morning,
I thought with a frown.
I gathered my courage and just enough speed,
Then ran at the tall fence like a mad hen.
Of course I fell down and hit my head,
And I can’t say what happened then.
The fence just opened up to let me in,
And a man was there with a smile on his face.
He called me over with a wave of his hand,
But for some reason, I no longer coveted that place.
I looked around me at all I had close by,
A swing and an old wagon from years long ago,
And the tree I had planted with my own two hands,
With the house on top after it started to grow.
These were all things I once held dear,
But I had forgotten to care for them in the rush of living.
The man beckoned to me from the other side,
But I had some much needed care to be giving.
I watered my brown, dying grass that day,
Then I laid back and watched the sky.
I knew God had made the fence high for a reason,
And I was thankful he hadn’t allowed me to fly.
And soon my own grass was a rich lush green,
And I thought it too could make a bed.
My family all stood outside with me in it,
And all my happy thoughts barely stayed in my head.
The End.
“If the grass is looking greener on the other side, it is time to water your own
lawn.” – Unknown.
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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Amy Richie Poem
Liar Liar Bum on Fire
How do I confess,
The lies I have told?
Which should I address,
Dare I be so bold?
The white lies,
I have told my share,
It will come as no surprise
Total truth I can not bare.
But what is the biggest,
The badest of them all?
My fourth grade spelling test?
The unanswered call?
Maybe it was the time
They asked how I was
I said just fine,
Isn’t that what everyone does?
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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Amy Richie Poem
The waltz
In her eyes there was a darkness,
A secret held there for none to see.
She looked at me from lowered lashes,
My heart sped up at what was to be.
She had come to me earlier that day,
To ask if I would go with her plan.
Of course I agreed to go along,
Her smile alone forced my hand.
He was an evil man,
Or so she would have me believe.
She showed me her many bruises,
Hidden beneath her lacy sleeve.
My tongue slid nervously,
Over my too-dried lips.
Could we dare to hope this would work?
We could not afford even the slightest slip.
Just as we had planned that morn,
She lured him out on the balcony.
And I followed like a shadow,
Confident I hadn’t been seen.
We both watched him fall to his death,
Not a single tear she shed.
She turned to me with a smile,
And back inside she led.
Many people speculated,
That it was an accidental fall.
He had had one too many to drink,
At the Chapman’s ball.
Later that week I heard it all,
The talk of the town was high,
He had a very large fortune,
How lucky for her that he’d died.
Now she could go as she pleased,
With a man she had meant long ago.
A man that her husband forbade her to see,
Someone who was now her beau.
I realized with a thumping heart,
How foolishly I had been played,
I had pushed an innocent man off the balcony
While the waltz played.
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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Amy Richie Poem
We live in a land of great pride,
where brave men and women have died,
to preserve our right to be free,
O God, be merciful to me.
Lives lost and broken hearts,
wars tearing families apart,
and the things soldiers must do and see,
O God, be merciful to me.
They fight for love, honor, and glory,
all those in uniform have a story,
just so people can live; like you and me,
O God, be merciful to me.
They may break down or they may cry out,
but if you only listen to their shout,
it's the voice of a hero, can't you see!
O God, be merciful to me.
We laugh and wave the red, white, and blue,
and thank the soldiers for all they do,
to assure that we'll always be free,
O God, be merciful to me.
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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Amy Richie Poem
Just like football, I am white,
So they're not all white but the strip is, right?
I don't know much about football, actually,
pretty much nothing, except my dad's favorite team.
My brother played in high school,
He really thought he was cool.
But there's a sense of pride when holding the ball,
a life lesson to give your all.
To never give up no matter the score,
And when you've given a lot, give some more.
A night that brings together a town,
All screaming in unison when they get their first down.
It gives the old men something to talk about,
and the old women a reason to shout.
Football in a small town is the absolute best,
As for the rest, I already confessed!
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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Amy Richie Poem
We Are All His Children
Like the Heaven above,
The earth is His domain.
We are all His children,
His love we get to claim.
The trees are His shade,
The sky His living art.
We are all His children,
Held dear within His heart.
The fish hear His words,
The birds sing His song.
We are all His children,
In His embrace is where we belong.
Copyright © Amy Richie | Year Posted 2011
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