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Best Poems Written by Richard Thomas

Below are the all-time best Richard Thomas poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

Summer Camp Souvenirs

When I got home from camp today,
My parents almost died.
They asked me how I got this way,
And here's what I replied:

"This little cast from heel to hip
Is nothing much at all.
Some broken shingles made me slip
From off the dining hall.

"The poison ivy's not so bad.
It missed my back and chest.
Of course, I guess I oughta add
Mosquitoes got the rest.

"I tried to eat some hick'ry nuts
And cracked a tooth or two.
And all these bruises, scabs, and cuts?
I haven't got a clue.

"I got the lump that's on my head
From diving in the lake.
I should have watched for rocks, instead
Of grabbing for the snake.

"That leaves this bandage on my chin
And these three finger sprains,
Along with lots of sunburned skin
And sniffles from the rains.

"And oh, I got a muscle cramp
And very nearly drowned.
It's some terrific summer camp,
The coolest one around."

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

A Child's Good Night

At night the sun has gone to sleep
And crickets sing a tune.
The bullfrogs croak and creatures creep
Beneath the watching moon.

The masked raccoons and possums prowl
Through meadows moist with dew.
The fireflies flash, coyotes howl,
And owls keep asking, "Who?"

At night our school is still and dark.
The evening stars arrive.
And marble statues in the park
Appear to come alive.

At night our dog the house patrols,
The city streets are bare.
The clock in kitchen hourly tolls,
And ghosts and nightmares scare.

At night I hear my father snore
And baby brother cry,
As shadows slide across the floor
And trucks go rumbling by.

I hear a siren's urgent squeal
While lying safe in bed,
My hamster racing on its wheel,
And raindrops overhead.

At night I hear the floorboards creak
And neighbor's cat meow.
I feel my pillow press my cheek
And night air cool my brow.

I think about the recent past
And plan the coming day,
Until I fall asleep at last
And dream the night away.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

Shyness

I'm young with no identity,
A faceless boy, alone and shy.
To classmates, a nonentity;
My parents fret and wonder why.

I'm part of the unnoticed pack.
I step aside as others pass.
To be alone, I sit in back
And never volunteer in class.

I cannot dance or speak on stage
And hate to pose for photographs.
From social scenes I disengage
Avoiding bullies' taunts and laughs.

Uncaring, they my spirit crush.
At lunch I have no company.
I shrink from hugs and tend to blush
And dirty jokes embarrass me.

I dread the days we swim at school
And shower with the other boys.
I try, but nothing 'bout me's cool.
I lack both confidence and poise.

I'm frightened by the internet
Where vicious rumors often spread.
There mockery's a constant threat
While thoughts of vengeance fill my head.

The girls and jocks just walk on by.
They're unaware that I exist.
No welcome waves or friendly "Hi."
I'm seventeen and not been kissed.

The popular comprise a clique
Where bolder boys have fun and flirt.
Among my peers, I'm seen as weak,
And girls avoid an introvert.

The meek inherit all the earth.
That's what the Bible verse asserts.
But while alive, we've little worth.
We're targets for disdain and hurts.

Tomorrow's graduation day.
This high school torment will have passed.
When college life gets under way,
I hope for friends and peace at last.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

What Might Have Been

As we age we regret words of anger and spite
That were heard and remembered and can't be unsaid.
The remarks we thought clever or proved we were right
That resulted in losses of friendships instead.

All the heartbreaks that came from suspicion and doubt,
The betrayals and hurts we refuse to forgive,
The companions and love that our pride has cast out,
And the chances we missed that we'd like to relive.

All the pathways not taken and bridges uncrossed,
All the times had we acted, a difference made,
The potential delights that timidity lost,
And the kindness and debts that we never repaid.

All the secret dishonors we long to forget,
And the wrongs we inflicted in order to win.
For the strongest of sorrows are those of regret,
And the saddest remembrance is what might have been.

                              * * * * *

       Or as Whittier phrased it, far finer and first:
           "For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
       the saddest are these:  It might have been"

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

The Greatest Gift

To give is good, most would agree,
When helping poor feel more secure.
A splendid thing's philanthropy,
Though motives are not always pure.

We seldom sacrifice at all,
Our charity, when we accede,
Is excess money we withdraw.
We rarely give what we may need.

Our gifts put donees in our debt.
As time goes by, they often learn
That benefactors don't forget
And may want something in return.

Some donors want their giving known,
Refusing anonymity.
When placed on plaques or carved in stone,
Their names remain for all to see.

These measures three make giving great:
     You give what you cannot afford,
          Nobody need reciprocate,
               And no one knows except the Lord.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

A Note From My Elderly Shoe

"One day while resting in the store,
I saw you striding through the door.
You seemed a kindly youngster who
Would know just how to treat a shoe.
Though nervous, newly-made, and shy,
I tried my best to catch your eye.
And soon my heart was filled with glee.
You picked me up and purchased me!

"You took me home and shined me up
And kept me from your gnawing pup.
Beneath your bed you made me wait
Beside the one you called my mate.
I sat forgotten there for weeks
With dusty toys and dirty sneaks.
Until, at last, one day at dawn
You picked me up and put me on.

"For months I took you where you chose.
I saved your sole and heel and toes.
We dodged the mud and sidewalk cracks
And walked on walls and railroad tracks.
You put your weight and trust on me
And laced me tightly as can be.
Through pain and sweaty feet and rain
I held my tongue, did not complain.

But now I'm old; there is no doubt.
I'm tattered, torn, and all worn out.
I hear you've bought a brand new pair.
With all I've done, it isn't fair.
Remember how we romped and ran?
I need a good retirement plan.
I've earned a better ending than
The bottom of your garbage can."

              *   *   *   *   *

(Did you notice the two shoe puns? 
     "I saved your sole(soul"
      and "held my tongue")

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

The Showdown

'Twas an ominous moment when rode into town
To its marshal defy and outdraw and gun down
A notorious, murderous varmint named Slade 
Who had widows and orphans throughout the west made.

The next morning, as destined, they met on the street
To for title of gunfighter finest compete. 
Marshal Matson, with duty to outlaw arrest,
Versus Slade, risking life in the ultimate test. 

At a distance the townspeople gathered to see 
The historical challenge that thrilling should be.
Two tall figures unconquered and stoic and brave,
With the loser interred in a premature grave.

Foes whose shadowy faces beneath Stetson brim
Wore expressions determined, ferocious, and grim. 
Hands were poised over holsters attached to their thighs,
Jaws were set, hands were steady, and angry were eyes. 

Doomed to sprawl in the dust would be gunslinger slain,
While the victor would toasted and honored remain.
Marking one more rash braggart whose lifetime is done
Would be notch newly carved in his pearl-handled gun.

No one knows who drew first for the blur was too fast.
Barrels blazed in a loud, simultaneous blast.
Then a second and third and again and again
Until chambers were empty, but still stood two men.

Errant bullets great havoc had caused all around.
Precious water was gushing from tower through holes.
An unfortunate, low-flying buzzard was downed, 
Signs were dangling from hinges, and riddled were poles.

From the crowd that was watching arose a great roar,
But of laughter, not cheering as always before.
The combatants, embarrassed and hanging their heads,
Scurried back to concealment in brothel room beds.

All night long drunken witnesses filled the saloons
To guffaw, raise a rumpus, and target spittoons.
While on opposite ends of the town slinked away 
Into darkness two shadows disgraced on that day.

So astoundingly awful and wayward was aim
That the pair's reputations were never the same.
Butts of jokes the names Matson and Slade have since been.
Still remembered for showdown that neither could win.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

Dining Without

While ambling down the boulevard,
I spied a swanky canopy.
As member of the avant-garde,
The classy bistro suited me.

When greeted by the maitre'd,
I nonchalantly said, "Just one."
He smiled and nodded graciously.
My gourmand venture had begun.

As soon as seated, promptly pounced
A waiter dressed in gray and pink.
"My name is Jacques," the man announced
And asked what I prefer to drink.

I ordered an aperitif
And proffered menu then perused.
In panic mode, I thought, "Good grief!
It's all in French. I'm so confused!"

When Jacques returned, with easy air,
I asked what he would recommend.
When he'd advised the bill of fare,
My gaze did then the room attend.

A masterpiece of elegance,
So understated and refined.
No chandeliers nor opulence,
Artistic taste and chic combined.

Came appetizers, quite a few,
And tiny salads, each unique.
With wines and cheeses right on cue,
'Twas gourmet dining at its peak.

For entrees there were perfect meats
With succulence beyond compare.
Then followed some exotic sweets
And coffee quite extraordinaire.

While savoring a fine cigar,
I said their chef deserved to win,
For haute cuisine the best by far,
Another star from Michelin.

When mammoth check was given me,
I calmly said I could not pay.
"Though penniless, you must agree
You've gained a customer today."

Was booted roughly out the door
With expletives obscene and rude.
In gutter prone, a vow I swore
That for assault I'd have them sued.

I did, however, leave a tip
On seventh race next afternoon.
That Jacques should into savings dip
And bet it all on Silver Spoon.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

A Wartime Childhood

I was seven years old when began World War Two
And eleven became by the time it was through.
I have vague recollections of things when that small,
But events during wartime I clearly recall.

Since there was no TV, it was newsreels alone
Where real pictures of overseas combat were shown.
So enormous were crowds at the movies each night,
People stood until ushers could empty seats sight.

I was there with the elderly, children, and moms
Watching B-25's on their targets drop bombs.
we saw troops land in Europe to Germans assault,
While marines on far beaches the Japanese fought.

And on living room radios nightly we'd hear
Latest news of the war, and if good we would cheer.
In the Junior Red Cross we made presents to send
To the men who had gone to our country defend.

We had city-wide blackouts when curtains were drawn,
And a victory garden where used to  be lawn.
The depression had ended with good jobs galore.
So the grown-ups bought war bonds to pay for the war.

Since most men who were young were no longer around,
Heads of shops, farms, and factories new workers found.
They hired women, who then did the work of a man.
Liberation of housewives in wartime began.

Due to needs of armed forces and U-boat attacks,
In the stores certain goods disappeared from the racks.
Some things rationed were gasoline, sugar, and meat.
So we drove our cars less and strange dishes we'd eat.

Then recycling was started as part of their plans,
So for scrap drives we flattened our empty tin cans.
The white, copperless pennies* they minted confused,
But for tanks, planes, and warships those metals were used.

When Detroit switched to weapons, they stopped making cars;*
And the shortage of sugar then shrank Hershey bars.
Since for parachutes used, nylon stockings were rare.
Troops wrote "Kilroy was here"* and we sang "Over There."

Showing husbands or sons had gone off to the war,
In some windows of houses, blue stars we'd behold.
There they prayed that no officer came to their door
To inform them he'd died and to change star to gold.

We were glad when the mailman brought letters from Dad;
But then after we read them, our mother seemed sad.
He was stationed on Guam, which was far,far away
And in letters he sent us his hair had turned gray.

I can also remember how much mother cried
When the radio said Franklin Roosevelt died.
And how silent and stunned was the cinema crowd
At first sight of the A-bomb explosion and cloud.

Then our father returned from the navy and war,
One of millions who served and their duty had done.
So our lives and our homes were the same as before.
A hard war had been fought, and the good guys had won.

                                 [FOOTNOTES]

* Mints used steel instead of copper, which made them look white.
   They stopped doing it because they looked too much like dimes.

* This is why you never see a 1943 or 1944 antique American
   automobile.  Detroit stopped making cars and converted its
   assembly lines to make tanks, trucks, cannons, etc. for the war.

* It became a morale booster for American troops to write this
   on a wall of each town they had liberated before moving on.
   No one knows who started it or who Kilroy was.

Details | Richard Thomas Poem

A Grisly Tale

About the lives of bears for years
A Czech and Pole were keen.
But neither had in their careers
A grizzly ever seen.

They therefore flew to Yellowstone
With data they'd compiled
To find and study on their own
Some grizzlies in the wild.

"It's mating season, so beware,"
They heard a ranger say.
"We need to know you're safe out there,
So call us every day."

The calls arrived for five days straight,
But then no more were heard.
Officials said investigate
To find what had occurred.

The rangers searched both day and night
And hope was growing dim.
A pair then found the camping site,
But what they saw was grim.

Some bears had torn the camp to shreds.
The men were not around.
But luckily the female's treads
Observant rangers found.

They followed, killed, and sliced the bear
To stomach contents scan.
The Pole's remains were clearly there,
But not the other man.

One ranger said, "It does appear
We've searched to no avail."
The other nodded, "Yes, I fear
The Czech is in the male."