The Turtle Dove

The geese were overhead

Migrating south and making those

Sounds I love so much.

I thought how lucky we were

You and I, together,

Doing what we loved most,

Following our Bliss.

Geese, swans, ducks,

All forms of fowl

Came with you.

You shared your darkest secret,

Lamenting how you could do such a thing.

You hosted your Dad's touch of sadism.

I knew he burned the whiskers off the kitten-

A strange old Polish man, not evil but hardly good.

Sadly, you related how you took your peeps 

To the zoo for them to care for,

Only to learn later they had fed them to the snakes.

Then, there was Poopsie, that silly Parakeet

You almost threw out with the Christmas tree.

The poor parakeet ended up dying in Sandy's lap. 

All forms of fowl came with you,

You were the kindest man I ever knew.

If ever there was a turtle dove,

It was you my love. It was you.

                                          E.D. Ridgell

The Turtle Dove The geese were overhead Migrating south and making those Sounds I love so much. I thought how lucky we were You and I, together, Doing what we loved most, Following our Bliss. Geese, swans, ducks, All forms of fowl Came with you. You shared your darkest secret, Lamenting how you could do such a thing. You hosted your Dad's touch of sadism. I knew he burned the whiskers off the kitten- A strange old Polish man, no evil but hardly good. Sadly, you related how you took your peeps  To the zoo for them to care for, Only to learn later they had fed them to the snakes. Then, there was Poopsie, that silly Parakeet You almost threw out with the Christmas tree. The poor parakeet ended up dying in Sandy's lap.  All forms of fowl came with you, You were the kindest man I ever knew. If ever there was a turtle dove, It was you my love. It was you.                                           E.D. Ridgell Love Like Life The blinders, blinded  On both are parts even Before the nuptials. It continued On both are parts after. Love like life is complicated. Oh, we loved one another  Of that I’m sure, but we both were Adult children of alcoholics- That clouds fidelity which in turn Undermines intimacy. Love like life is complicated. I wasn’t straight to begin with  And we both brought weighted secrets. I think we both meant for it to work And the baby trumped all considerations. Nevertheless the stress took its toll  And...Love like life is complicated. She’d spent a fortune on nylons- Then quit her job when the baby came. I taught all day and drank all night. We fought. I drank a lake of Chianti. That day, I doubt she’d thought I’d go. I went. Love like life is complicated.  I  had nowhere to go so I decided to go  Somewhere. I came out. In those days being queer  Meant hitting rock bottom. The nice thing about a bottom is the only way is up. Love like life is complicated.                                                            c.  E. D. Ridgell One More Hero Here comes the rain again Falling on our heads like a memory Falling on our heads like a new emotion Fascists on the march again. Remind us of the price of freedom We’ll pay the price and more For this sacred land; For our Ukraine. Make ready the martyrs And lay them gently down. They’ve given the full measure, Each reflected in a mother’s tears. Push the invader back. Give him no sanctuary, Be strong before the foe Another unbowed Ukrainian hero.                                       E. D. Ridgell      ________________________________________________              The Turtle Dove The geese were overhead Migrating south and making those Sounds I love so much. I thought how lucky we were You and I, together, Doing what we loved most, Following our Bliss. Geese, swans, ducks, All forms of fowl Came with you. You shared your darkest secret, Lamenting how you could do such a thing. You hosted your Dad's touch of sadism. I knew he burned the whiskers off the kitten- A strange old Polish man, no evil but hardly good. Sadly, you related how you took your peeps  To the zoo for them to care for, Only to learn later they had fed them to the snakes. Then, there was Poopsie, that silly Parakeet You almost threw out with the Christmas tree. The poor parakeet ended up dying in Sandy's lap.  All forms of fowl came with you, You were the kindest man I ever knew. If ever there was a turtle dove, It was you my love. It was you.                                           E.D. Ridgell Cat Nap    In truth,  I haven’t the patience  For breaking news anymore.    Nearing the end  I muse and remember it all-  So vivid and clear is yesteryear.    How did I not break  Against the shore?  How come I end this well?    I treasure much  But much treasure is spent. That’s the fare.     The world is as tilted  As ever it was,  But I am only half here.    It’s not a bad place. I treasure each day   And nap with the cat.                                E. D. Ridgell                Open Carry    So what comfort do you give  To that shaded friend who has planted  A slew of folk: sisters and aunts-  The odd cuz or two  Lost to something they   Did not understand   Even as it choked and robbed   Them one last time.    All lives matter or so they say,  And say, and say , and say  And will say to ears not listening.  How many were not shot: my innocents  Now fully grown that did  Matter to me, still do, and always will.  Did toppled statues fall on them?  Were there lives celebrated:    Dark kin to tagged toes  Shipped back from Nam  For chitterlings and hog maws  Fixed by Church Ladies  Singing on high  The old refrains cherished  And handed down disguised  Less the chapel be bombed.    Don’t answer.  Don’t even try.  I’m not peddling bullshit-  Not then, not now.  In case you haven’t noticed  I’m armed and I hope  This shot finds its mark:  Open carry for all to see.                                   E. D. Ridgell  _________________________________    _________________________________________  Yerushalayim   In life we are in death.  Each second of a heartbeat Is the only promise. Boom! The sound of every second you are alive.   There is no fixed right or wrong- Just a consensus. Live and let live is the only ‘fair’. In the end  The only thing that matters is kindness.   There is a reason  Why Palestine has four quarters And eight gates.  We are our brother’s keeper.   Keep your brother in your heart. An eye for an eye is only as good as two. “Love one another. As I have loved you, So you must love one another.”                                                        E. D. Ridgell 2020 __________________________________________________________ The Days If Elijah    I’ve got dreams to remember, Residual nightmares- demons. When I’m tired the demons Grow brazen, Harry the flank or the back.   I have reserves. These times are hard. I’m angry. I can still mount  Imaginary chariots and throw Elijah quotes about.   I mustn’t control anything but me. It seems like I’ve been serving forever. I only have service. Everybody serves somebody. Who said that? Is that another quote from your pop tart repertoire?   Don’t forget to be kind to yourself. In the end the only thing that matters is kindness. You’re not Elijah after all.                                                   E. D. Ridgell 2019 __________________________________________ Manchukuo  See my little wing quiver so As I lie here atop the snow! Water is surely free I think. I only wanted a tiny drink. Something is awry I cannot rise to fly- Happy was I on the brink, Eager at the dawn’s beckoning pink- Frightened and alone, Lamenting others who have flown- Fled they high into the sky Nevermore into will I fly. What so rudely broke my wing Swift and sudden came the sting, Dropping me from that upward lift Leaving regal feathers rudely rift? Something struck me swift and cruel Sharp tipped from ‘side a northern pool, Amidst the warnings of swallows Urging me to follow. Where’s gone fidelity In the face of  pity, Here now in the shadow of Showa Falling with a  final “Q                                            U                                               A?”                                   E. D. Ridgell 2019 ________________________________________________      Cement Griffins! Home from the Bahamas I was met by my own car And so I stopped to drive  By that house where my life Diverged and changed course. The house burned down now Seemed strangely distant Divorced of further heartbreak. The road was overgrown and The field unused but mowed. The stalwart soccer players Who had cried “Pushkin” Decades ago were likely Dead or fast fleeting Jockstraps hung up long ago.    On to Cylburn I let  The others Circle the house. I still have photographs of The stately statuary shot long ago. Memories of Cindy’s Karen bit me!   It’s a few years since and Death is certainly circling, But I am content and aware Of just how full a life Is the measure of my kindly soul.                               E.D. Ridgell, 2017  ************************************   Joseph Campbell Musings! Four thousand miles  For o’er forty thousand years ‘Fore spewing into the Mediterranean- O’er there were the Minoans, Minions of Nestor’s Pylos On its journey to Troy! Did Homer lie Or was he deceived By Mycenae? A German dug himself  Into a hole and a Brit spent his Fortune on an amusement park- Such is the allure of  Myth and mythology- It is a Trojan mystery!                                  E.D. Ridgell  __________________________________________  Johnny Blue! Kin to Kin, brother to brother, That war married us to death. A bureaucracy would swell up Our boys eyes glazed in sockets Staring skyward, seeing nothing.  Sorted in plow rows, suits for soil. Battle echoes of shrills of bullets- Dark-dyed blue uniforms, Holes shot clean through. Moist eyes drying under gray skies- Needing records and letters to where  No-one could read but would know!                              c. E.D. Ridgell, 2016 ____________________________________________    Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death! I'm sixty eight Or is it sixty nine years old, This July the fourth, And led around by the nose, As I am by this-here oxygen cord I can't be sure, it won't be my last. Mind you, I've no fear of death, Long as it comes tiptoeing  In the blue, black dusk of night. I crave nothing riding roughshod  Out of a dazzling, blinding sunlight! Being so old, I've little to offer, But hard wrought wisdom That bids you cherish Liberty,  And a sharp pen, that is but a metaphor, Before this age of excess fonts. Keep you a daily vigil on your personal rites! Guile is as fleet-footed as Mercury, And there's guile in these here parts of late, That would promise you much and give you little. Nothing is free. We've ensuing bodybags enough  To warrant that allegiance fought and died for  By the original Sons of Liberty.  You've one vote. Use it!                                              c. E.D. Ridgell, 2016 _______________________________________________________ Facebook! They don't get it or  Don't they like Anything I do? They're supposed to peruse  Offerings, replies, Commentaries, witticisms,  Forwarded items, in-return, And check them or return them, So as to pass them around accordingly, Or stop their momentum- Impede them in some way, there, at that moment, As they lay there Expectant of them, and hoping as I do that they Will contribute to help muster and motivate This device of Zuckleburg's in its intended use, But I swear it does not!- The great number of them- massed participants, Don't work at checking Anything that does not touch them, Forgetting to motivate anything not about them! Facebook seems to be some unscripted device, Some common sort of communication with Education and socialization buckled to it,  Enhancing it and changing the dynamics of it. It is, I think, very splendid in itself, Even if the participants do not seem to get it at all!                                                        E.D. Ridgell, 2016  ______________________________________________________ Caspar, The Ghost! On Goldeneye All seemed right with an unrighteous world- Yet Caspar was kept at arms length  For fear the fishes might eat him. Ian and Ann were oh so protective and Oh so not at hand. Whereas his peers Collected Cricket bats and soccer stuff, Caspar hoarded firearms. Loved from afar, wanted but not too near, Caspar could not charm Eton enough, And they sent him down. Still Caspar acted out, Charmed the girls, beguiled his fellow men, And When Daddy had the prescribed heart attack- Well, Caspar, went into a slow tailspin that  The laddie boy made no attempt to hide. He said it all in the note- 'If not this time, it will be the next.' Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang, for Caspar, the Ghost!                                                            c. E. D. Ridgell, 2014 Michael Moore at the "Occupy Wall Street" march October 2011	Make America.....   Everything and everyone he touched was manhandled Including a pussy or two or three. Who’s counting? He came in an aberration and left an anomaly.   The blessing was he wasn’t adept or subtle at anything. He cheated at golf and confefe’d his misspelled tweets. The nation had a clumsy bull in it’s China negotiations.   He might as well have been mustard gas Judging by how blind his followers were Loosing all sense of propriety.   He put himself before anything and everyone Declaring his detractors fake unworthy to don his Red hat reading “Make America Great Again.”                 Make America.....   Everything and everyone he touched was manhandled Including a pussy or two or three. Who’s counting? He came in an aberration and left an anomaly.   The blessing was he wasn’t adept or subtle at anything. He cheated at golf and confefe’d his misspelled tweets. The nation had a clumsy bull in it’s China negotiations.   He might as well have been mustard gas Judging by how blind his followers were Loosing all sense of propriety.   He put himself before anything and everyone Declaring his detractors fake unworthy to don his Red hat reading “Make America Great Again.”                                                               E. D. Ridgell  Crown And Post   I am heavy as a sink box decoy I bag nothing but woe. Each year adds to the weight As around and around I go Falling into the bardo.   Absent any reprieve,  Life’s sentence. Loosing value each ensuing year, A shard of metal here an implant there My costly burden.   Spent shot, Barrel clean and hollow; Shot wide the mark My crooked cane Bent to the strain.   I watch the sand run Down and down Each grain through Heartbreak after heartbreak  Waiting at my woeful wake.                                E. D. Ridgell   Bye and Bye   I recollect sunlit days Tossing horseshoes,  Cracking Maryland Blue Crabs On newsprint diapered to the table.   We drove South to visit your sister On Steven’s home turf, Through Georgia on to Savannah- The hottest most humid place on earth.   We staked love  Sealed with a partnership. We hunted for glass Cut, pressed, colored or not.   Danny showed us matching globes With a lifetime’s price tag ‘fore lying down in the  Garden of Good and Evil.   We headed home- Charleston, Raleigh, Richmond Meandering in a sunny limerence Tip toeing on the right side of love.   Twenty years later I’d lose you to Tedious rituals of dying. I broadcast You up and down that Palace Green Where bye and bye I’ll come to you.                                          E. D. Ridgell _________________________________________________  Moby Doc   So the doc  Switched up my meds  And I’m adrift In dreams.   I’m too old to be Set to sea like this- I’ve no legs for land Let alone sea.   What knaws at him, The suggestion? The patient must never  Presume. Why?   Is not the mariner Best judge of the sea? There is no better experience Then first-hand.                                    E D Ridgell ________________________________________________  Funeral Pyre    The table  Side my bed  Is crowded with a  Myriad of  Prescription bottles  From out a  Larger horde  That boggles  Sorting out.    Old age  Drapes the bed-  My funeral pyre  In need of a light.  When I reflect  Upon this life  I am content  But most of all,  I'm tired.     I feel I'm   Sorting out-  Hopscotching, A one-legged hawk,  Through a mire's nest  Of cattywampus  Memories, Dust unto dust.   Pray for me.                      E.D. Ridgell ____________________________________                Make America.....   Everything and everyone he touched was manhandled Including a pussy or two or three. Who’s counting? He came in an aberration and left an anomaly.   The blessing was he wasn’t adept or subtle at anything. He cheated at golf and confefe’d his misspelled tweets. The nation had a clumsy bull in it’s China negotiations.   He might as well have been mustard gas Judging by how blind his followers were Loosing all sense of propriety.   He put himself before anything and everyone Declaring his detractors fake unworthy to don his Red hat reading “Make America Great Again.”                                                                                      E. D. Ridgell _______________________________________________________________________________________  Sky Dragon   This doppelgänger  For a last time  Spent a lifetime  Weaving minds and opinions Into shapes and forms  Conducive to their own means No matter if they were right or wrong So long as the end justified the means.   The spotlight has gone out. The weft has frayed and  The warp gone limped. The celestial dragon will no longer Transverse the night heavens. No dawn awaits another day. The tail of the kite rises on the wind Only to fall fast At the last and final word.                                                 E D Ridgell __________________________________________________________            A Free Speech Thingy   If that petty power play puts Me away one more time, It’ll be one too many prison AKA FBJail stays for this ombré.   I never have figured out how You teach against prejudice, fascism And its ilk on a shoestring vocabulary Not to mention no images or pics.   Arbitrary, misplaced and freakish rules Propped up by a loopy-loop arbiter May fool some of the people Some of the time, Daddy-0 but…   Any who, I’m sending this your way In the hopes the pigeon gets through With every intention of doubling down Ere I be shot-down for the free speech thingy!                                                               E D Ridgell ___________________________________________________________________  The War And so, evil came to traverse the continents And with it the war. A uniformed arm jerked back At a gentle squeeze, And another yellow star Fell o’er a precipice its lapel Had helped to dig an hour before. The bittersweet smell of powder Briefly masked the stench To perfume a new order. Arias and choruses alike arose In screeching screams, perverse serenades Of the sons of the Rising Sun At the raped daughters of Nanking, Dressed in dragon embellished, Ripped and torn, silk kimonos Donned for their defiant death. Time teetered on the edge of One of many black holes, Singularities consuming The particles of mankind; Extraordinary formations descended Of that Big Bang that began it all. Courage and valor willed the chosen Fall up into the bright light, A light intended to trump evil And beguile that war, Again, and yet, again Until two dimmer and lesser bangs Than the biggest bang of all Finally ended the war!                    Dedicated to the citizens of                       Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan                                                        E. D. Ridgell __________________________________________________________________    A Bump Stock Tune in The Top Ten! The honeybees don’t visit the garden anymore. Instead there’s a lumbering drone of a thing- Not a bumble bee but nevertheless a nectar seeker. It will have to do, another of nature’s manifestos. In China in hands of two, scores of hands paint in pollen. Surely this is an inscrutable rebuttal to “The Good Earth”. What goes around comes around or so they say. Red worker hands at minimum wage to provide billions honey. All about my September years there is an irony and I’m hard pressed to keep the rows with such a tug on the plow. The grandchildren like the honey bees, seemingly safe are not- Their hives hum in rapid fire to a bump stock tune in the top ten!                                                                      E. D. Ridgell, 2017 City Hospital’s cancer unit was my Nam… Hopscotching through hell… There was so much pain… Mommy’s pain was not alone… Not in a ward… You’re not alone when you’re in a ward. The fat old woman, Italian of Greek- Imploring God, arms outreached  Begging, pleading… Her voice foreign, yet understood. Mommy screaming Junior! Junior! Junior! From behind a white, curtained surround... Men in white coats circling her… Probing, jabbing my mommy. When finally they were gone She pointed it out to you… There under the white hospital sheet. What could you do? Then taking on the shame Of her drug induced blame: Junior, I don’t love you anymore. Come be my anger dump… Be mommy’s little anger dump.                                           E. D. Ridgell  ___________________________________________ We’re In Overtime, The Baby Boomers! What is this mercury, silvered backlash, Staring at me, matching my every move? The aged player here knows everything needed now ... Except what is to come. All that went before Is but a prelude to something expected, Grand and heroic, befitting an all star, But tenuous and just out of reach. Parallel fingers touch, exactly upon the Surface at a horizon that is unfamiliar landscape. There is no precedence. Eyes glaze over at the Fog and steam of mildew, stained, Shower stalls, burning to the Stinging images within Minds made moody by the marching pills, Added to plastic cubicle calendars that divide the Remaining days. They feed a team Held together with replaced Organs and body parts for the Profit of companies, Cloning things, disposable. Everything is reflected in the rushing of innings, Piling one upon the other, Tumbling into time far past the prescribed nine. The score is kept in Quarter time in a game whose Rules are made up in mid-play. Starting in the end zone, I care less about the final score than the Dignity of aged, kept firm- the testament to the Memory of my former glory. It is the Principles of fair play onto which I fall back upon- That fame that was and still is shimmering upon the Silky surface of my retired jersey. Rising now, to pick back up the ball And hand it over to the rookies of the players who Block, I hesitate at the flag upon the field Hoping for a call from some checkered judge Who stands silent with arms down. I do not know my way here Upon this field, but I am Game for any meet, trained in the shadows of Bulldozed coliseums, ever ready for another Try at one last kick for a winning goal. Sign me up, again. I’m wrinkled but not too warn to Walk in front of linemen, tease the shoulder pads, And feign a foul. If they push me back too hard, I have nothing to lose. It will gain you time to Reconnoiter and regroup, stepping into shoes, as you do, Of a benched generation; ill-seated and illsuited on the sideline, Distracted before the scores on the silver screens, Growing ever larger and better in resolutions that Dim and flicker when challenged by spare time. This is our fault. We are distracted by disillusionment And corrupted by coaches taking bribes, congressmen, The men behind the curtains we should know better than to trust. Extra time, too, brings extra grief, And the need to heal and huddle awhile-excuses. There is time yet though to amend these things- We are their Frankensteins. Fear not. We have more mettle Than you know and more love for you than you suspect. We’ll win together yet! We’re in overtime! © 2008 by E.D. Ridgell         Mount Calvary Did you or did you not  Have sex with the priest In the early morning hours And in-between masses? The good father would  Have me to dinner the evening ‘fore Then for dessert the next morning. He was Episcopalian. It did not matter. I saw him years later Between acts at the Hippodrome. I came that close to embracing him-  That’d be a big no no, though. It matters not if you sin So long as you do not get caught. My Pinto was parked in front of the vestry. No one put two and two together, however. My youth is flown But my memories are grounded. I feel no guilt and so No sin is sewn.                                      E. D. Ridgell 2019 _____________________________________________________________________ "I Am The Light" The bright lit days are over, And now I live in shadier times- Circling round and closer to A big black hole. I've always known the hole Was there, waiting to enclose me. There was a time I feared it. Now I know better. In and down this big, black hole, I know the light I seek awaits me. Eternal peace- A 'light' like no other. E.D. Ridgell, 2013 ____________________________________________________ The Trump Presidency Dot Dot Dot! The never ending Presidency When everyday seemed like two, And ‘Fake News’ entered the vernacular  Of a freedom loving people- We will endure! The greatest show on earth, A three ring circus, Executive, Legislative, and Judicial, Three battle lines- We will endure! Democracy on thin ice, Freedom under siege, A people besieged by corruption,  A wall carried to the home front- We will endure! We will sing  Happy days again. We will clean up our  Land, sea, and air- We will endure! The Trump Presidency, dot, dot, dot ________________________________________________  Forty Five   And so comes the narcissist, He who must be obeyed. Empathy eludes him, his feelings superficial, There is no one he will not belittle. His spite as is his bite are vindictive. He is the worse, if not the last. “All are punished.” Act five, scene three, History repeats itself much to our woe.                                                   E. D. Ridgell 2019 _______________________________________________________________
_________________________________                      Georgia Gal   I am the waterman’s shepherd Guarding this vacant house In company of scents grown weak, Some of his lot, some not. . I have no way of naming these- Each and everyone is in confusion. He and his breed are gone. They sped away in the dust of the Twirling-footed things Emptying the house of everything ‘Cept fading smells and scant trails Haunting the property. .  If I walk in the day or bark in the night, My scent is long gone. What is left  Betrays no scents. I lie in my shallow hole by day Only to come out at night to chase The living lightning bugs away. .  I dragged my hind legs  Until one of the waterman’s pack, Shot something quick, and sharp  Into my hide spurting away my pain.  He lay me gently down Into this hole with tears drowning down. Did he mean to cover me from a cold  I no longer feel? .  I miss the waterman. I gaze to the end of the drive Hoping to see him come home. We used to walk sandy beaches In the brisk, morn, before we breakfasted, He on his stool, me at my bowls  On the clean, linoleum floor. . The scents, smells, and feelings Seem to be faded. I miss the waterman that cared for me  As I guarded him. . Somewhere someone remembers. Until all memory is gone, I can’t break free To run in search of  Some misty cloud that is the waterman.                                                               E. D. Ridgell Not Enough! Outlaw bump stocks alone? Not enough! They pretend to not understand. We don’t want a chunk of the constitution- We want a little self control  At the expense of LaPierre dues... We want gun control. And that’s all- It’s such a small thing to ask For the sake of our children In this wake of death Outlaw bump stocks alone? Not Enough!                             E. D. Ridgell, 2018 __________________________________________    R.E,M. X I am a  Post traumatic stress syndrome  Childhood survivor- The sum total of shock and awe. Burton hurled it into the sea- “Boom, the shock of each moment Of still being alive!” Tick tock, tick tock... A writer writes Because he is lonely. Where do all the  Lonely people come from? My mind is full- Filled with tidbits Of this and that’s  Out the shite hole of childhood. Consciousnesses drippings- Diarrhea down a wooden leg, Paul Scofield scolding John Hurt Down the Thames. Everybody hurts Sometimes- Everybody’s gas lighting A childhood. Hang on!                                E D Ridgell 2018 _______________________________________________  So   The Eagle is wounded. Dying a slow death- Or am I a footnote to history? I hope so.   I remember the possibility Of feathered ghosts. Were they not saved? I thought so.   The tribal chiefs Always squabbled. It was in the DNA. I worry so.   I am an old patriot, A tired hippie Used to street fights. So?   These braves They know the words. Bowls teach them the basics. Is that not so?   Truth is it’s never easy. Rows, white crosses in Lovely fields of France Attest so.   I have offerings. Words on wings Not carcasses yet Soon it will be so.                    E. D. Ridgell, 2018 ________________________________________  Cape Fear! Cancer! Now that I have  Your attention. It’s visited mine Throughout a lifetime. I cannot help but fear Next visit is mine! ______________________________  Secrets!   It’s interesting- You secluded those Secrets within, Safely securing them So that no one might surmise the truth.   Secrets are two-edged- Some stay secrets While others separate To sprout or wither in the shadows of silence. We are as sick as our secrets!   She unburdened her secret on a sky-ride High o’er head an amusement park- Filicide in the cold environs of Canada When she was a child, watching her parents smother The baby they could not feed. She suddenly let fly This secret and I stooped to catch it. My job is to search out and cull Secrets! _________________________________________________  Somewhere In The Trenches Of America  I feel I won't be long, now. We'll be mingling again, Dust and bone under the footfalls Of the next in line. I haven't heard. Have you had snow, And does the drum and fifes still Pass the green? Who won best door? I hope all worry and fear For those loved and leave behind Falls away with the sweet embrace Of eternity. I hope too you are spared news-  Precious patriot that you are or were- Of the tedious rise and fall of caliphates, Here, there, everywhere the din of protest of war! Remember, you refused to bayonet Their silly straw man? They could not understand a heroism That refused to shoot the dove! You wore them down in the end- Hit the bulls-eye on the range so often They just pushed you on, Never knowing another faggot got his orders. Rudy who will follow had to go over- Won the distinguished service medal under fire. All my best queers are heroes. I've done the best I can To temper an ecstasy for 'Mad Dog' saviors. I feel I won't be long, now. We'll be mingling again, Dust and bone under the footfalls Of the next in line.                  c. E.D. Ridgell, 2017 somewhere                        in the trenches of America. _____________________________________________________ A Sad Haiku One last woeful turn- Who has not left their guard down? Brace! "All are punished!"                             E.D. Ridgell, 2013 The name Horsey in the poem is of English origin. I have a number of Horseys on my Dad's side...LOL                         The Deserter’s Sonnet   Steady on, Shyaway; We’ve only a small trek yet, ‘fore the warmth of a blanket and a meal of cured hay, Safely out this storm and nary so wet.   Horsey’s spread is ‘ever an envy’, With its sturdy barn, Amish built and reddish painted, With acres stretching clear up to the tide In a hewed expanse felled and untainted.   The battle did not fare well, And lucky were we to survive that rout. This war is like a rung of hell. I’ve no more stomach for it. We’re out!   To be cowardly is unmanly wrong, But heroes, well, they seldom live long.                                   © 2007 by E.D. Ridgell	A Murder Up in the tall trees On the high mountain cawed A murder of crows Challenging any, all. Scattered the odd, mating couple In a ritual, bonding dance- He picking her feathered neck, Company his soft, low cooing. There grouped in community  Many years nesting, The young assisted fledglings Until they in their turn. Ferrels, fox, raccoon- All manner murderous, Feathered prey  Stalk the roosting ménage. Up in conifers Atop the misty hills A murder of crows Signal the valley below.                            E. D. Ridgell 2019 _________________________________________________  The Police! I have pulled bodies from cars lied to people dying- Said you are going to be fine and watched life fade away. I have held people who were mentally ill and who Tried to shoot me. I've been attacked by women- Their husband having just severely beaten them. I have held towels to bullet wounds- Done CPR just to make family feel better.  I have chased fugitives through the woods.  I have been in high-speed chases, Foot chases through rush hour traffic. I have waded large angry crowds,  Drove like a madman- Let little kids sit in the patrol car pretending they are me. I have taken people to jail, given breaks, prayed for people I don't know.  Yes, and I have been violent. I have been kind when possible I have driven to some dark place and cried, I was so overwhelmed. I have missed more Christmases than I wanted to. Every cop has done these for low pay, long hours, and a short life expectancy.  We don't want your pity. We’ll make it without your respect.  Just let us do our jobs Without killing us. The police.                                                            E. D. Ridgell, 2019 _______________________________________________________________________  Waltzing Amigo It’s good to see the people  In the streets again protesting. I am the class of 65. I was weened on this rub Hewn from the blows of cop’s Bigoted billy clubs. Who are you If not the sons and daughters  Of foreigners come in search Of refuge and safety? History turns round and round To these waltzes for liberty.                          E. D. Ridgell 2018 _____________________________________________  checking mornings obits like courbet im in the rear view so little time too little time to  catch up  but im cruising now just biding time eggheads debate time juxtaposition it shapeshifting i dont want to im dropping the  punc tired nod off nap wheres that thing they call god theres a million ways to leave your lover it only takes a moment to die sagan did it and someone delivered the newspaper everybody does it or somebody does it for them crucify them and line the apian way feed the lions in the end all the emperors  die                                e d ridgell 2018 __________________________________________________________  Osiris, I implore Accept me, Fire changed Boned ash Shapeshifter. I Claim A place  Even as My Ka Takes flight. Osiris, Lord of  The Underworld, Grant Me Your pardon.      E. D. Ridgell 2018 _______________________________________  Alice’s Headache! Time and space refuse all entreaties to cooperate. One might even say they are rude for if I decide to venture From here to there the very first step presents a mathematical problem. How long is ‘it’ and what is one half of that? That is the problem because you see Every time I divide ‘it’ I can in fact divide its result again by two. The ability to divide  By two is infinite and so space can never be corralled so as to name it! Furthermore, It was audacious of me to give any measure the significance of ‘two’ to begin with- Spewing forth as it did into a vocabulary to do with halves and distance. To place  Alice in Wonderland in her place would be to point out that everything is Taking place in Alice’s rather runaway mind. It makes her head hurt!                                                                                                  E.D. Ridgell, 2017 __________________________________________________________________________________________  Tread Gently No! To the degree that we seek revenge That is the degree to which we stray. We would have justice and let it hesitate if it must For “the quality of mercy is not strained.” Laws should be measured instruments Designed with aforethought, their consequences Above all fair, equal, and just, Lest we loose the reason and dignity we wrap ourselves in. We are not so base as that baseness we would route out Separate from the community as a whole, A community based on equality for all- The pursuit of happiness for all who prove deserving. There never is any shortness of darkness and  There never will be- Where the light fails to shine “All are punished”, “Everybody serves somebody”, “Everybody hurts”! “And in the end The love you take Is equal to the love you make.” No!  To the degree that we seek revenge That is the degree to which we stray. We would have justice and let it hesitate if it must For “the quality of mercy is not strained.” “The thief comes only to steal And kill and destroy, l have come that They may have life, and have it to the full.” Tread gently.                                                    E.D. Ridgell, 2017 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  Remember Our Roots!   Ellis Island could just have easily been a turnstile for me. We are a nation of immigrants more compassionate than this! I agree this wave reaches to their sand castles, But I’m not going to take it out on innocents For the sake of a few who got lucky and caught a wave Convinced they did it all on their own. No one does!   It’s a long border not easy to guard, But in no way will I start sharp shooting children off a fence. That was for East Germany to do when Russia yanked its chain. Saner heads than these will prevail as long as we Remember our roots!   What are we to do with these children? Their homelands are rife with violence and crime. They seek a land of milk and honey, a fairy tale. Well, we’ve got milk. We’ve got honey, And I never knew a soldier boy who didn’t have a snickers bar In his back pocket for any kid that looked hungry, Slit eyed, high yellow or even white. Remember our roots! _____________________________________________________________________________________________  Corny As It Sounds That abandoned, forsaken,  Shy-away look  In my frightened, friend's face Is that feeling we all carry In the bowels of our being- That there might not be somebody To care enough To pick us back up,  To gather together  The scattered pieces Of the inevitable fractures that  Shatter us periodically in our  Long, long lives. Everybody needs somebody,  Corny as it sounds, Could not be anymore true. I am here for you, Tried and true  As I've always been  In all things to do with you. You are the other side  Lifting the table, You are the shoulder  That bolsters me When I'm bent over.  You are like a brother to me. Together we will withstand The tides of time.  Together we will reach The promised land. Brother, can you Spare a dime?        E.D. Ridgell, 2013
Al Gore’s Lullaby  I’m Dalharted depressed tonight-  Black blizzard'd. I listen to Gore air out the truth- Ten years to save the children  From a wrath fast blow’n down on 'em. What good is a poem to 'hem, huh? Christ! It’s Easter Island all o’er again! One clan again another,  All hoard’n the little left! A decade, only a decade, you say?  Wars waged win wastewater,  And starvation bloats the bellies.  Religions ferment discord and  Hastily ‘rected crematoriums  Sick'n the stink’n air, what’s left! I’ll pull the sheets up o’er me tonight;  Cuddle in this warm’n blanket, Powered by ‘lectric, pay’n higher and higher dividends,  With the flat screen timer set to sixty minutes- I’ll sleep away one more precious deny’n night! © 2007 by E.D. Ridgell	Boom!   Words, like hanging chads, Hang loose over our catwalks; Feeble attempts to recapture some misspent moment.   Even a flash cannot suffice to fix an instant. The instant depends on time, And time does not hover to be netted.   The pictures and words Configured into works of art Are inadequate substitutions. We call them art and disseminate the pieces, But nothing suffices a moment gone wrong, misspent!   Live in the moment. Be kind at all times in all things. The rest is decoration.   Boom!- The shock of “every minute of being alive”! Feel it? Gone!                                           E.D. Ridgell, 2006                                                         _________________________________________________
The Alley   Blue, black, harbor Safety from another vicissitude of strife That periodically marks a solitary life. My entrance fee, again, a shining token Minted of misfortune's rife. Shrouded in its dark and cold comforter, Off lit, moon lit, a stage for a forlorn tryst- Think that I do not appreciate this deep and narrow place? I have no will but to stay nestled in its hard embrace. Pardon another sojourn into the thoroughfare of day, Whence, once again, I return My father’s seed. Meanly, roughly sown, green grown, © 2005 E.D.Ridgell. _______________________________     Just ‘fore the Commercial Break She was speaking of a duopoly, the particulars peculiarly bertrand. Her brown hair faint with false highlights fell flat, meeting the lapels of a bespoke pinstriped suit. Botoxed badminton eyes, the lids wizened, were worn weary bespeaking years stylizing her sex. Curried by decisions culled all her own, she'd arrived at this moment in the spotlight; a few clipped minutes of views aired on the morning news. And with something significant seemingly won, finished at the signal to wrap, just ‘fore the commercial break, I sipped my coffee lying pillowed pondering, wondering if I'd not just seen someone proven undone. © 2006 E.D.Ridgell	Scrooge 2007! My universe was created with a loud, commercial Bang! advertising rich elements and resources spiraling out to serve you. These are very profitable if you’ve a stomach for commodity puts. Everything living feeds off of something living; dwindling crops, more manna from Heaven for me. Eat your fill this holiday season. I’ve options on the grocers. The goose is very plentiful and reasonably priced. Everything dies to be sucked into a Black Hole. Yes, there is a fee for this as well. Everybody serves somebody. How do you do, my name is Scrooge and that somebody is me. This insignificant orb is dying quickly. Only greed can save it…..that’s me. Goodie, goodie! You’re back is to the wall. Worry, then worry some more. I’m directly between you and ruin manipulating markets until I send you happily skating and sliding for a fall. Make it profitable and I’ll dip into my many, moneyed, market funds. I’ll clean up the coal for you at a variable rate. Nothing is fixed. I’ll gas you up, naturally, when I’ve had my spoils from the rich fields of black oil you guzzle daily- choking until due to the holiday you come up short, then, self righteously, calling on me, that greedy, greedy Mr. Scrooge. Stop griping. Everybody’s got a job or a dole check-some have two! “The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigor…'' I’ll have my mortgage or my rent or you’ll feel my boot. Children don’t want to go caroling in the cold singing archaic songs. They’re whining for the latest iPod and insistent for the Nintendo Wii. They text you with their lists; you know, like everyone else, they’re busy. So is Granny and she isn’t baking pies, not anymore. Get with the program. What would you have, a real tree? Put the cookies and milk under a facsimile. Bah, humbug! “I don’t make merry myself at Christmas”...a small, spoonful of more gruel. “Keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine.” What’s that you’re babbling? Someone needs a new crutch, tinier than most? We’ve a hot, titanium model, adjustable, fresh off our new, Chinese line. Merry Christmas to You and Yours and a Profitable New Year! © 2007 by Scrooge, LLC …all rights reserved to me. ___________________________________________________________  Interview: Mitchell is sixty eight- Only a year. She fades ever so slowly. "I am melting" ever so slowly. Joni always does her own album covers, Mixes it up. Mixes her media. She paints in L.A. and B. C. Like her I am flipping- Making these word-songs, Though I still shoot a hidden photo or two. 'Love Has Many Faces'- New tunes to ballet dancers, And I am finished the revisions.                           c. E. D. Ridgell, 2014 _______________________________________________________  The Alchy Blues     Snow Mountain blues,  Bipolar blues-  Can’t shake them  No matter what I consume.    Got them DT blues,  Delirium blues-  Can’t sake them away   No matter my tremors.    The Van Sant blues,  Towns blues-  Can’t shake them away  No matter what I play.    The GABA GABA blues,  Alchy  blues-  Can’t shake them away  No matter how hard I try.                            E. D. Ridgell ___________________________________________                      Pushing God   There are questions: If the Big Bang happened Didn’t it have to happen within something? I can not bring myself to believe That something can come from nothing Isn’t nothing nothing? Nothing from nothing leaves something?   Whether or not there is a God is irrelevant. Our need for one is not. I need one if I am to believe Something can come from nothing. Furthermore, mathematics it seems to me Is a God pusher if ever I saw one. Don’t push me without a reason. Otherwise, Push your God on someone else!                                                      E D Ridgell 2020 ________________________________________________________________
A Recent Quick Sketch Of Easter At The Foot Of The Bed. Easter It needed patience and trust- faith to wait for the void to be filled. After a year of grief, one miracle had occurred and I set sail again. Then “Kitty” up and died suddenly; she’d always had that murmur in the heart. I rushed her to the vet in vain listening to her pain- pushing peddle to the metal. The box became so still and quiet. I bent and kissed her goodbye in some vet’s office. She had died in the van. I’m a man. I cry in public and expect that recognition when breaking this taboo. Intruding rudely on my grief they wanted me to buy her ashes. I’d had ashes enough, thank you. I left her remains there, for them to do what they would do,but I kept ‘Kitty’ in my heart. My heart is near filled up now. I’ve of a healthy heart. I seem to lose those I love in early spring and then spring back as the rains end. I’m a gardener and I understand the need to mulch and patiently await each resurrection. Love is forever a perennial thing. It will rise up, again. The planter awaits his mark. I can not love annually. Commitment is unconditional and everlasting, at least for me. Come that Easter morning, I went to climb up into the van when what brushes the leg but a bit of fur no bigger than a bunny? This is courage and desperation, the things miracles are made of. I’ve no fear left. I pick her up, this meow crying out to me. I named this new kitten “Easter” and she sleeps here at the foot of our warm bed made warmer by mutual consent. Three of us occupy this safe and resurrected place. Don’t look to lilies or chocolate bunnies to fill the voids. Look to eternal resurrection and tend to your garden patiently. © 2007 by E.D. Ridgell	Bouquet of Poetry, compiled by Jean Lewis and S.M. Zang This anthology in which six of my poems appear and in which you will fine many accomplished poets shown above is available at Lulu; Publisher It is also available at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1430326778/sr=1-9/qid=1269309643/ref=olp_product_details?ie=UTF8&me=&qid=1269309643&sr=1-9&seller== I recommend it and I ask your support for all the artists represented. Thank You.
_____________________________________   Mystery Here at the last chapter, I wish It the penultimate, And no wiser in my ways, I still doubt my way. I’m no longer young enough  To know it all, and I struggle For that faith that some  Wear so effortlessly. The body ages yet the mind Seems somehow sharper Ferreting out the smallest detail Stored away in the grey cells. Most of mine are dead or dying. The young waiting in the wings  Come forward to take their turn In a well oiled and worn turnstile. I used to kneel staring up at her With a certainty and trust  Untested and untroubled- Doubts waiting in the wings. Came the learning  Turning as it did on reckoning and Belief posited not upon that field- Faith encumbered jarred the door. In that land once dubbed The jewel in the crown I learn  My mentor proves wiser dumb With a panache for mystery.                                 E. D. Ridgell 2017 ____________________________________________________________  Don't Hold Your Breath! And while all the edges  Of empire were suddenly Cattywhompus, The tribes within Never, so restless, Yet paralyzed, seemingly Dumbed down from Grace, fidelity, And other virtues,  Once their rock bed- Grabbed, hoarded, Swindled even shysters, To stay on top.   Emperors came and went, No thumb, thick enough To plug the sprung leaks, Patch the cracked, water lines. The arenas sold out, Tickets were forged, then hacked With Monopoly money. Commerce came to a halt. Foodstuffs once graciously distributed To the poor were cut willy-nilly- Some, scapegoating scheme Of fattening Senators, Seen to be saviors! Everyone held their breath,  Even as the poets did not!                              c. E. D. Ridgell, 2014	checking mornings obits like courbet im in the rear view so little time too little time to  catch up  but im cruising now just biding time eggheads debate time juxtaposition it shapeshifting i dont want to im dropping the  punk tired nod off nap wheres that thing they call god theres a million ways to leave your lover it only takes a moment to die sagan did it and someone delivered the newspaper everybody does it or somebody does it for them crucify them and line the apian way feed the lions in the end all the emperors  die                                     e d ridgell 2018 __________________________________________________  ________________________________     One Final Prick! Old age envelopes me- Wraps me in a cocoon  Of wrinkled flesh No eye tarries on. Everyone is here, Gone or going- Some sweet or sour memories, Others daily devotees or critics. I count my worth in  Item counts or The number of likes On a flickering screen. I’ve come all this way, Waded through trials and tribulations  Only to be told that by the way There is no God! That faire lad At the foot of the bed, Just some childish apparition A lonely, only boy would have craved? Oh, my Michael, How could you, When we’re so close To the secret curtain? Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust- Will no one rid me of Cosmologists?                     c. E.D. Ridgell _______________________________________________________