This Poet's Corner

 

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Page 14

This Poet's Corner

Whispers

Faith should comfort and 
Sooth your passage 
No matter the 
Direction and length of it.

Whether or not 
There is a God is irrelevant.
Whether or not you need one is not.
I need one.

Practice your faith in whispers
Just loud enough to bounce 
Off the canyon walls 
Echoing deep into the valley.

Even though I walk through 
The valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil, 
For You are with me.
               E. D. Ridgell, 2019
_______________________________________ 

I Won’t Grow Up!

The muse on 
Tinker bell wings
Thrash’s about
In search of 
eternal youth.

The living 
All have something 
To say
Needing saying
Before the end.

With inevitable 
Revisions,
Her hands are as 
Deliberate and chiseled
As I could ever hope or wish.

Each work stands denuded 
Of all pretense,
An honest bundle
To dissemble
Each to his own.
                   E. D. Ridgell 2019
********************************************************* 

H L 

 

Menchen is planted in Louden Cemetery

And memories of a monkey trial

Are whispers in the winds-

The whirling wit of Henry Louis.

 

Alexa can give dates.

Particulars can be gleaned

From a small room on the third floor of

Baltimore Enoch Pratt Free Library.

 

Scrapbook on scrapbook of

Carefully constructed and choreographed 

Clips and snippets come together 

In a history of literary leaves.

 

Opposite on Cathedral is the Baltimore Basilica

Not to be confused with Mary Our Queen

At Charles Street and Amberly  Way

Bordering Roland Park.

 

It all bespeaks a city of literary lore where

On Holland Street the sage of Baltimore 

Unraveled the complexities of English

And how it should or shouldn’t be spoken.

                                       E. D. Ridgell, 2019

************************************************************************** 

In That Image You Deemed Best

Most of the continent is fucked up.
In Uganda they’d like to kill me,
In the name of Jesus, of course.
It wasn’t like this until the 
Coming of American church groups
Preaching their truths, their 
Interpretations of the Bible,
The absolute truth as they deem it.

Lord I am not worthy that
I should come under thy roof, 
But I haven’t any doubt that
You will soon enfold me. Jesu,
You don’t make mistakes, and
God, You surely made me
In that image You deemed best.
                      E. D. Ridgell, 2019
********************************************************** 

The Wall Was Built

At least that’s what 
They called it-
A patchwork of concrete,
Steel, wicked wire,
Fancy fencing, and so on.
The hundred thousand
Beds eventually were sorted.
Nobody dared call it a prison
Except those that were in it.

The wall was built 
Boosted with detectors,
Alarms, bells and whistles.
The agents were tripled, 
Armed, tasered up, and
Issued smart uniforms.
The dogs were joined by
Robotic devices that were 
Said to be cost effective.

The wall was built
And it worked at first.
Everybody on the other side
Dealt with developing difficulties.
The recession eventually ended.
Opposing sides declared victory.
Administrations changed, finally.
They always do along with the 
Aging politicians.

The wall was built.
Mexico thrived as did many
Central American states
On the other side, and
Everybody knew which 
Side was which. Walls-
Well, walls are like that.
Your damned if you do
And your damned if you don’t.
                             E. D. Ridgell, 2019
__________________________________________________ 

And Only Them!

Don’t expect the resident narcissist 
To concede anything
Or ever, ever, apologize.
They don’t do that.

Reconnoiter,
Blame,
Shapeshift,
But never, never accommodate.

“To compromise  
Is not to get what you want”
Said the emperor narcissist 
On the cusp of demise.

It’s all about them
And how you can
Boost them up-
It’s about them and only them!
                                    E. D. Ridgell, 2019

___________________________________________ 

The Emperor’s Wall 

The Emperor has clothes
Which he augments with a long red tie.
He wears a crown
Dubiously light in the wind.

The Emperor’s princelings 
Are good shots 
Though they hide their trophies-
One hides his wits as well.

Her Majesty is beautiful
But not regal and
She guards his youngest
Dutifully.

The Emperor’s foreign relations 
Are a mystery in an enigma.
The kingdom thou prosperous for some
Teeters for others.

His Majesty sees barbarians 
At the border
Though his soldiers armed to the teeth
Sorely outnumber these.

The Emperor decrees 
“We shall have a great wall”,
But most citizens disagree and 
Slaves, well there outside the wall.
                                    E. D. Ridgell 2019
                                      Written in the reign of 
                                          Donald Daffy Thump 1
_______________________________________________________________ 

Thunder And Lightning

The eagle flew into the millennium
As if to soar higher and higher
Not fearing the crescent moon
Let alone the magic of the bear’s paw..

The bull raged even as the winters  grew tame.
The lakes bulged as the ice inched closer
Even as the shamans warned.
Not all the eaglets heeded.

In the moonlight above the forests.
The tribes dissected golden calves.
And the gutted entrails were read.
The auguries could not agree.

The winds changed West to East
As it had been foretold
In prior decades and
The Eagles could or would not.

The symbol took flak 
Maneuvering as it could
Through arrow then missile
Always in thunder and lightning.
                                 E. D. Ridgell 2019
-____________________________________________________ 

Puppy dog syndrome 

Every time I come here 
I have to go there
Thoughts on a drive

A little anger 
A lot of grief
How many years now

Its misplaced 
His grief is real
Forget and forgive

I dont know where
Either is planted 
Not that I should

I cared though
And still do its the
Puppy dog syndrome
                   E D Ridgell 2019

__________________________________ 

Piss Poor

I strolled the obits today, 
The pics and writs of strangers-
An old person’s early betrayal
Of concern at growing older.

Each photo had something to say,
Eager eyes of the departed 
Burned, planted, or donated-
The final lineup ‘Fore that long runway.

In truth in science surely
There is something that doesn’t die,
Endures and does not end, DNA?
I do not know. I do not know.

Ancestors, reincarnation,
The resurrection of the Lord.
What changes not,
The invention of God?

“What’s it all about Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?”
I don’t want to die, Alfie.
I don’t want to rot.

It makes absolutely no sense 
For a Christian to fear death,
And yet I do. Once again, Alfie,
I’m just a piss poor Catholic!
                              E. D. Ridgell 2019


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Tweetie Bird

We stand defined
By 280 characters
No more, no less!
It’s a Twitter world-
Brief and unchecked.

We think of a tweet
As the color yellow.
It could black. It could
Be blue. It might be both.
It could be black and blue!
                 E. D. Ridgell 2019
________________________________________ 

Marlboro Country

Sauntering an idle jaunt
With no particular endpoint
He’d walk the country roads 
The whole day long.
Everyone knew him.
Everyone pitied him, 
Born with palsy,
He walked and walked and walked
With the loveliest disposition
In the county.

I don’t recall his name but 
He is one of those childhood memories 
I catalogue now in my final time.
Standing up in the studebaker 
Absent any seatbelt, I gazed out
On a road that hosted a land 
Unblemished to me. All the pine woods, and 
Rich green fields of tobacco were 
Reassuring from the window of that chariot.
I was a right little dynast in my perfect kingdom.
                                               E. D. Ridgell 2019
________________________________________________________________ 

A Wee Penned Prayer!

Jesu, banish my demons
And grant me rest. 
Take away all fear of death.
Banish all sorrow.

Thy will Be Done.
I am in control of nothing
And the better for it.
Ease my wrinkled brow.

Old age is heavy.
No news is good news.
All news momentary and
Subject to revision.
                  E. D. Ridgell 2019
____________________________________________ 

Waiting On The Washing Gale!

All up and down the line
The sogginess intrudes.
There is no more time
‘Fore islands out of time
See the seas close o’er them-
No markers for their graves.

Sealed coffins float,
Pitiful testaments,
Bobbing buoys for the gulls,
Free wings on winds
O’er a blue bay sky
Waiting on the washing gale!

E. D. Ridgell 2019

 

_________________________________________________ 
 
In That Long Line

The big C again,
Dee’s mother.
It was her turn
In that long line.

I’m somewhere
Farther down 
In that long line
Waiting tepidly.

“What’ for ya
Won’t miss ya”
A Polish proverb
As true as any.

I opposed the draft
And still do.
As for this lottery
You can burn my card!
            E. D. Ridgell 2019
____________________________________ 

Forked Tongues!



Bigots line their victims like ducks in a row.

When they start shooting, it’s with words,

One word at a time, one word after another,

Tumbling into sentences and phrases,

Until the hitting starts, the poking, the jabbing-

Then out come the knives, the sharp blades

For dicing and slicing the chosen up.


I was chosen. They set me up. They poked and

Jabbed me with their foul-mouthed, rounded words,

Come down sometimes for centuries,

To dice me, and slice me up. They tried to toss us.

Some cut, fell, but not all, not this time!

We stood like a knife, slashed stonewall.

Stonewalls scratch but they do not bleed!



We feel nothing, now, the elders.

Nothing! We feel no guilt, nothing!

We stand stoic and solid as an old stonewall.

They’re standing the young ones up, again, row after row,

But some of us are here with words of warning, graffiti

To beware! Take care! They speak with forked tongues!

                                                         c. E.D. Ridgell, 2014
                                                              Revised 2019
__________________________________________________________________________ 

Taxing Matters!



“Are the taxes done?”

These were the last words

Of my grandfather.



He and my grandmother died

Just ten days apart o’er sixty years ago, now.

Six  decades later, I muse as I render unto Caesar.



Grammy suffered horribly.

He kept up the family tradition

And died suddenly of a stroke.



The kitchen mammies were busy

Stuffing smoked ham with kale,

A Maryland tradition for funerals.



We were filling up holes back of St. Mathew’s

Fast as they could dig them close by the unmarked graves,

Lost babies to Grammy’s salad years.



I muse to just how many more tax forms I’ll file-

Tedious American rituals, these

Taxing matters!
                                               E. D. Ridgell
                                                  Revised 2019

_________________________________________________ 

Medez,

Nights in the gardens of Spain
And I was falling in love with you-
The thrust of the matador
With the perfect ass.

You drifted away.
I was unsure.
One call, but
You did not persevere.

Perhaps it was best
Sexy Spaniard.
At least we had Madrid-
The Alcazar, Toledo.

The deep red wine-
Love in front of the mirror.
The blood raged
On to Paris.

You drifted away, yet still
Whenever they 
Send in the clowns
I think of you.
                     E. D. Ridgell 2019

Last Rites

 

Stormy Bay

Blowing hard

Drowning down

Risky takers

 

Little warning

Hard swallows

Shaky wheel

Rogue wave

 

Buoy bobbing 

Warning bell

Tipping over

Death knell

 

Body bloat

Shallow grave

High tide 

Peace eternal

     E. D. Ridgell 2019



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