“the mossty boys all wore a hat”…my poem

“the mossty boys all wore a hat”…my poem

the boolies mimed…

 

 

ronday vue

 

It was time for a furling gat,

the mossty boys all wore a hat,

they rumbled when the clepsys chimed,

they crumbled when the boolies mimed,

and on their way they ratlinged fine

   and mortled as they kept in line.

 

The mook they made was loud and blam,

the dancing was appoint, and skram,

chandilling as they jamped each step,

so trilling as they klamped each rep,

their ronday lasted all the night,

at morning they were flamp and skite.

 

October 22, 2024

 

I’m learning from my friend Mike…

*   *   *   *   *   *

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

How does a poem end?

Finis,” my thoughts (my poem)

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Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

don’t cross the buck’s trail…my poem

don’t cross the buck’s trail…my poem

blinking, not blinking…

 

 

Owning the trail

 

The sun was high,

the patient rays

   striped the forest floor,

tree tops swayed enough

   to nudge the shadows,

a bird sang half a song

   way down the hill,

an angry squirrel

   sailed across the trail

      and stared at me,

he didn’t blink.

 

I walked the next turn,

and stared without blinking,

an eight-point buck

   looked back at me,

he stood still

   as his woman and kid

      rambled across the path

         and disappeared

            in the hydrangea,

he didn’t budge,

he seemed to be daring me

   to make a move.

 

He showed no fear,

he owned the trail,

I was the stranger with two legs,

I looked at him for moments,

I faced him moments more

   as I shuffled back

      around the turn,

and shambled from his world.

 

The sun was high,

the shadows trembled,

I walked away through empty woods.

 

February 6, 2025

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

 

Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,

and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)

and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

background noise, hear it?…my poem

background noise, hear it?…my poem

the flower, so pale…

 

 

Taking my time

 

I hear every conversation,

I hear the fuzz of background noise

   that so easily comes to the fore,

I see the folds of the curtain,

suddenly of interest,

I see the flower,

so pale, in the rug,

theatre seats aren’t really comfy,

this waiting is for learning…

 

(I forgot to take my phone)

 

December 19, 2024

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: An Empire Divided

King George and his ministers

wanted the Caribbean sugar islands

more than they wanted the 13 colonies…

by Andrew Jackson O’Shaughnessy

click here

Seeing far: Selected poems with 47 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

The Book of Days…part l

The Book of Days…part l

The Book of Days

 

The dawn’s early light can be pleasure enough for the whole day.

There are words enough to tell the story of “the temptation of day to come.”

It is my delight to write some of them for your delectation.

 

 

Scant

 

A low montane bank

   that has nowhere to go,

the weight of sky above it,

unyielding earth below.

 

It does not block the sun,

nor beckon for the day,

it is a vestige, aye,

and soon to go away.

 

December 3, 2024

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: Forced Founders

by Woody Holton

The so-called “Founding Fathers”

weren’t the only ones

who helped to shape our independence…

click here

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 52 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

Hand me that hammer…my poem

Hand me that hammer…my poem

Too many gulfs…

 

 

Hand me that hammer

 

This lightening sky pulls my eye

   upward from newly darkening earth.

Our troubled plain

   has no points of light just now.

We face fears, terrors, hates, imprecations,

   repudiations, exclusions…

Too many gulfs appearing,

   too few bridges imagined

     in the grim thoughts of too many.

 

I will build one bridge today,

   I welcome this lightening sky

      to ease my work.

 

November 9, 2016

I work on building a bridge every day.

I try to do a good thing every day.

That’s good for me and for America.

It helps to keep me sane.

*   *   *   *   *   *

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: All The President’s Men

The men and women

    who crave power…

by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

click here

Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

treadmill thoughts…“and old sneakers,” my poem

treadmill thoughts…“and old sneakers,” my poem

again is anew…

 

 

…and old sneakers

 

We move, we huff,

we quiver, we chant,

thoughts galore will tumble

   as the hot routine deepens,

 

the workout is good,

no doubt,

we mime the young

   as we get old,

we walk the track,

the countless reps,

the 1-2-3, the look-and-see,

the bobbled step,

the front and back,

the in-and-out…

 

This cheerless time,

this silent gym,

this jumbled gear,

the shadowed clock…

look the same as yesterday,

but…

 

I conjure me,

a brand new thought,

a slower step,

I see a different future,

the silence is a private tune,

 

I whisper behind my eyes

   that more is more,

again is anew,

the moving is progress,

it is long moments in my life.

 

November 24, 2024

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.

 

Movie review: Same Time, Next Year

it’s all-American adultery, oh yeah…

click here

Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

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