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Jane Richer Poem
There are people who make up misguiding lies,
use words to hurt, wound and paralyze,
they put up'walls or mountains to the skies,
of unscalable heights and unmeasurable size.
They set us adrift on a windless wave,
to spew out their hate on an innocent's grave,
they slaver and foam like the depraved,
to fill us with doubt and corrupt the brave.
Their thoughts slither like a snake,
coiling around tightly at every slip we make,
their smiles deceive, their platitudes rake,
their contempt disguised with every heart they break.
They judge and convict with mirthless pride,
and condemn us, while acting our guide,
their two-faced grin, takes our own side,
while watching as into quicksand we smoothly slide.
Their pat on the back, their convincing hug,
leaves a slime trail, they're loathsome slugs,
their poisonous tongues, a mind blowing drug,
which alters reality, beware these back-biting dogs.
Back-stabbers, revel in such cruel intent,
puss breaking forth, from the infected utterance they vent,
troubled and weak, our self-esteem is rent,
when leached with glee, from the bearer sent!
©Jane Richer
Mar. 15 2001
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
He was sun-scorched, flame-torched
stood tall, strong as a brick wall
loose-hipped, well equipped
in for the count, without a doubt
expert tracked, surprise packed
spurs jangled, wild mustang wrangled
I should have, could have
but I was lost, dust-bowl tossed; in Trouble!
In a mess, I confess
as he turned, my body burned
fanned my face, acting chaste
he was endearing, God-fearing
a lop-sided smile, immaculate styled
I could have run, fired my gun
but I only choked, when he spoke,
he was ice cool, me more the fool; he's Trouble!
He tipped his hat, steel-grey eyes of a cat
heavy lidded, my heart skidded,
he said, 'Maam?', took my hand
his cornfield hair, his unnerving stare
I might have, right have
high-tail, hit the trail
the preacher grins, there's all my kin
now side-by-side, my downhill slide; into Trouble!
All curtailed, I in veil
'Do you take?, my mistake?
white wedding gown, two hearts pound
next the ring, my clammy skin
my Pa's tears, must squelch my fears
all too late, more my fate
the thrown rice, last minute advice
my Mama's bliss, that sweet kiss; of Trouble!
Blushing bride, our buggy ride
all alone, our log cabin home
white picket fence, it all makes sense
just me and you, the mountain's view
angels singing up above, it must be love
carried past the oven door, need I say more?
a four-poster bed, enough said
'What a Man!', to our life plan; without Trouble!
©25/02/2012
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
Sighing, he shouldered the old duffle bag
And followed others as they sauntered down the gangway
Free at last, from the ship's cramped and stench-filled quarters,
He smiled, at the crisp, fresh and bitingly cold, new day!
His feet, now planted firmly on the new soil,
Made him want to shout, dance, raising his hands,
'Hello, new world, I, Sven, have made it here at last!'
Others, mumbled, 'More foreigners to divide the land!'
A new land full of promise and scarcely civilized,
With Indians, vying to sell their furs and wares,
Their hands, 'signing'and voices 'tainted' with broken English,
Spotting the livery, he decided to visit the stables there!
His belly, rumbled, as a ways off he heard the supper bell rang,
He looked a peculiar sight, with his wind-blown blonde hair,
Smelling sour and sweaty, many weeks growth on his chin,
But he'd survived! Others had died of disease in the stale air!
With days adrift, without wind to unfurl the main sails,
And angry squalls that came out of the fog to frighten and surprise,
Those with weak stomachs were tossed and pitched about the floundering ship,
A shout of 'plague' and overboard the sick went before his very eyes!'
His belly would stay empty, another day it rumbled unsatisfied,
For the horse, cart and feed had been a necessary; costly price,
Across the street, stood a bustling, large general store,
With his last few coins, he bought an axe, tools and a fine hunting knife!
Some lard, flour, dried beef and a few country cakes,
Gunpowder, an old bow fiddle and some leather strips,
But most important, he had purchased the 'deed' to his own land,
Towards the open range he rode, distant, now from that fateful ship!
As he rode, he marveled at the scope of the land,
Huge timber trees, stretched out their 'necks' into space,
White wolves howled out in mourning, their cries echoing the sound,
And eagles circled in greeting, wings dipped in 'mute' grace!
Vitals in his belly; he took the old fiddle and started to play,
The tune stirring a longing; reminding him of Papa and his home,
How Ma had squeezed him extra hard; tears welling up in her eyes,
As he slowly walked up that gangplank; he'd never felt so alone!
With his saddle for a pillow, he bedded down for the night,
Looking at his two strong hands, Sven sighed as he smiled,
On his land would soon stand, a 'sweat of his brow'; pine cabin,
Ample reward for enduring those lonely and treacherous overseas miles!
©11/11/2011
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
With long legs and elongated beak he came,
wearing trunks and a black sash 'round his waist,
smelling of 'High Karate' and wearing a blue headband,
the 'bad-seed' leader of Jujitsu and martial arts, we all faced!
This was no panty-waist or mealy-mouth bird-brain,
no chicken-livered fowl that worked for scratch,
No! Here was a true blue hero, a real egg-ample to us all,
Dodo-itsu - master fighter, a feathered leader that all hens longed to catch!
For years he taught us how to fight with beak, claw and wing,
and then for some strange reason, he packed up and went away,
some say that he got too old to teach and then became extinct,
but I believe that he was called to battle and still is fighting today!
©Jane Richer
02/26/2005
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
Satan's gone fishin', but few has he caught;
None in the basket that's newly Blood bought.
He's brought a fine reel, attached to a pole,
And tested the line, he's ready for soul!
The hook has been baited, the line free and clear,
He looks at the water and back at his gear.
Many 'lures' of temptation and lust in their place,
'I know I'll catch somethin'!', puts a smile on his face.
He settles back to watch and to wait,
But there's not a nibble, nothin's taking the bait.
He reels in the line, and checks it all out,
And casts it once more and then with a shout.
Feels a tug on the line and then it drops deep,
'This one's a fighter, this one I'll keep!'
Although it's a struggle, the line then goes slack,
The battle is over, the soul is reeled back!
Satan stops suddenly, with a look of surprise,
As he dips in his net to lift out his prize.
For there, snagged tightly, at the end of his line,
Two words in bright gold, it's a NO FISHING sign!
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
'Twas the Night before Christmas and I must confess,
the year 1987, started out just like all of the rest,
with christmas lights twinkling from everyone's dwelling,
but believe me it was different and far more compelling!'
'I'm Sarah, a reporter, who's delivering this tale,
from Chris' own journal this story's regaled,
'I was down in his cellar to take a quick look,
when high up on a shelf was a thin little book!'
'It was dusty and I coughed as I turned the first page,
written in Santas' own words now yellowed with age.'
'December 20th, three of my deer have the flu,
mere days before Christmas-Whatever will I do?'
Just think of it friends-All those poor girls and boys,
searching for that gift from Santa or that special toy!
'Maybe it is a doll, some baseball cards or a game,
with faces abeam, they clutch their gift, yelling 'Oh, it came!'
Reading on, I sympathized with Chris' own plight,
only a few reindeer to pull the heavy sled through the night!
Santa wrote, 'I thought to ask God for an angel or two,
then realized, they were probably too busy with all that they do!'
'For they surely were busy, helping those left alone,
and directing others to shelters, when they had no home,
but the hardest of all, to which I have cried,
is when they comfort the family-at a teen's suicide!'
'I am still in great awe, at God's fabulous gift to me,
the power to reach children and leave a gift under the tree!'
'So I'll fly through the night with only five deer,
and somehow make my deliveries as I do every year!'
'I'll use a shorter harness and reposition the deer instead,
with the strongest in front to balance my heavy sled.'
The pack of toys in the center and I in my seat,
and I'll place one in the lead with the nimblest of feet!'
- Well it's Christmas Eve and so far nothing's gone wrong,
half the world's now visited, the gifts where they belong,
but my reindeer are more tired each time I sneak a glance
and now's no time to rest as we are heading through central France.
'Suddenly our speed begins to drop while flying through space,
the sleigh starts to sway, as my leader's hip slips out of place,
desperately I pull up on the other reindeers' tethers,
but we are fallin' too fast, through the cold foggy weather!'
'Looming ahead, I barely saw the darkened castle,
manouvering toward it, proved to be more than a hassle!'
'We hit the turret wall, up and over we dropped,
and bouncing, skidding and braking we finally came to a stop...'
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
LOVE and PEACE walked quietly hand in hand,
Tears falling softly on the war-torn land,
Everywhere a reminder that CHAOS ran wild,
Today they came to bury HOPE their little child!
Sadly they watched how PAIN and FEAR clung on to those,
Who survived this and cowered beneath HATRED'S blows,
Chanting that God will soon see their enemies break,
Regardless how man must suffer for 'Religions' sake!
PEACE, walked with her robes trailing through blood and dust,
For coming towards them was their dear friend, TRUST,
Weeping softly she said, 'The bombs kept dropping until,
At last SILENCE came and the world grew deathly still!'
'There are only a few that still hold onto me,
But they use me in their belief in technology,
Bigger bombs and weapons to hold the enemy at bay,
And they turn a deaf ear to my cries of there's a better way!'
'This world is in TORMENT's hold and has to break free of his chains,
And APATHY must die, so that once more, it is FREEDOM that reigns!'
So PEACE began anew the building of the world's foundation,
'That every man and woman knew that FREEDOM enthroned their nation!
And LOVE came upon two children, in which HOPE was re-birthed,
Even though CHAOS***PAIN***FEAR threw at them their worst,
FREEDOM prevailed and the 'three' were forever banned,
To interfere with the earth and GOD's eternal plan!
And LOVE and PEACE gave birth to an awesome little girl,
Named CHARITY and she in turn touched the whole world,
People forgot about FEAR and reached out to embrace TRUST,
And now as if in shadow, lay, the remains of blood, carnage and dust!
©Jane Richer
01/10/2004
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
I drew closer as the angel whispered,
'Come and you shall behold!'
I saw a book with an inlaid cover of precious stones,
And embossed in purest gold.
As he spoke, he turned around,
Placing a crystal key within my grasp,
And all drew silent as the lock sprang open,
And I undid the ivory clasp.
I reached inside and gently removed,
The book from its satin case,
I then let the angel be my guide,
As we left that Holy place.
He soon led me to a carpenter's bench,
And he bid that I sit down,
And pointing to objects on the top,
He said, 'All these in this book are found.'
I stared at and touched the simple things,
That lay across God's table,
But as my mind was only 'finite',
To discover their use, I was not able.
Chisels, paint brushes, dried flowers and twigs,
Many cut-out pics of the LORD,
There were broken shards of pottery, small piles of blackest coal,
A cup of water and a wineskin from which oil was poured.
I marveled as I touched His book,
But then thought there could be NO WAY,
For how could a work so beautiful,
Have inside it, blackened coal and lumps of clay?
Deeply perplexed, I mulled over the mystery,
And turned to the angel to speak,
For surely he knew the clues,
To the answers I did seek.
Then a presence entered silently,
And filled the room with light,
I knew at once that HE was there,
My spirit leaped and danced with delight.
My legs shook and on my knees I fell,
And bowing, I lowered my head in shame,
Then I felt His hand upon my head,
And I looked up when He called My name...
©Jane Richer
05/11/2002
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
She once was Daddy's precious little girl
with golden hair in ringlets and tight curls.
With a pretty new dress and bright shiny shoes
but now she is battered, bleeding and bruised!
Her childhood; now cut short- had been smiles, giggles and hope
but now she is 'strung-up' on heroin and coke.
It had all fallen to pieces when Daddy died so young
her older brother crushed by it- couldn't cope and by rope he hung.
Mother tried to bring up her children just right
but they could hear her weeping softly in the night.
Work was so scarce and Mom had no skills
barely anything to eat, and not much for the bills.
-So she learned to beg and steal at a tender age
and blamed it on Daddy, it so filled her with rage!
Soon she was drinking and fighting just to live
then Mother died, she had given all she could give.
She ran away, before 'those' people could come
but they got her younger brothers, they were always too dumb.
Not her; she had learned important 'rules' from the street,
'you take from others if you wanted to survive and to eat!'
Life wasn't too bad; if you could take the hard 'knocks'
seeing kids sick and dead; had long ago numbed the shock.
She was dirty, smelly, and usually strung-up so high
that she hardly cared if she lived another day or she died.
She had some 'homies'; that she could call on
and one night they broke into a house for a little fun.
They were all drugged up and had only done it for a hoot
it had never crossed their minds, that the owner would really shoot!
The others just scattered in panic and left her there alone
the owner looked down and then went to the phone.
She lay there dying, shaved head; no more ringlets and curls
wishing just one last time, she was again her Daddy's little girl.
©21/06/2012
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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Jane Richer Poem
Why is technology more difficult to grasp, the more they try to simplify it? Take the computer for example, when it first came out it was big, expensive and bulky and not in use for the common man or woman. Then a strange group of hybred humans, left their caves, bedrooms and Mama's homes and walked out into the sunlight and into our simple lives and with outstretched hands presented us with the PC and manna rained down from heaven, Amen. These angels were lovingly refered to as 'techno-geeks' and now all those bored housewives could leave the drudgery of darned socks, dishes and present their husbands with a coupon for fast food, junior's carseat, junior and a 'bring me back a Big Mac, large fries and oh yeah a diet coke, got to watch my weight!' She then entered her 'sanctuary' and hubby left to the sound of tap,tap, tapping of little fingers on the keys.
Then someone said, 'I want to do more!' and 'Multi-tasking' was born on the earth and it was all good, Amen! Here I was, wrapped up in typewriter ribbon and having carbon paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe, blissfully unaware of the giants of progress and they searched me out and I was offered a free PC if I signed up for two years internet! 'Interwhat I said?' Then the tech,gleefully rubbed her hands together and whispered, 'My precious!' I could have sworn I heard a couple of 'gollums' in there as well. Six weeks later, a bulky package appears and a brand new silver shiny thing, called a hard drive, I blanched at the word 'hard', a modem, a reference book, big enough to choke a horse, eek and plugs and wires that went somewhere! Luckily my seven year old nephew, put it altogether for me and turned it on. It sat like that for days as I hopelessly sifted through the alien words in my manual, spittle dribbling down my face and a glazed look in my eyes, it making those whirring and beeping noises as if it was annoyed with me. I glanced at my typewriter, but it turned its back to me, highly affronted and saying, 'Traitor!' under its breath.
Well finally after agonizing over the PC, I have graduated to a 'laptop', left gradeschool at last, hallelujah! This comes with all the 'bells and whistles', wifi, bluetooth capability, I have a webcam and I can watch movies, download or upload music and multitask with my hands tied behind my back! Argh, umm, now where did I put that typewriter?
©Jane Richer
01/10/2012
Copyright © Jane Richer | Year Posted 2012
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