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Posts Tagged ‘texas poetry’

 
 

Courtesy of tatoodonkey.com

I recalled this memory.
I was five or six
it was the middle of morning
when I hear my Mother moaning
in the lowest of voices
as to not wake my Brother or me.
“Please John, don’t hit me again.”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Please….Please, you are hurting me.”
 
It has been sixty-five years
since that memory.
Still every once in a while
that memory returns
to haunt my very soul.
My Father came in late that night.
He had been drinking.

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Picture taken with Samsung smart phone on December 10th, 2014 at 706 at Northwood Shores on Cedar Creek Lake in East Texas.  Copyright 2014 by John J. Rigo

Picture taken with Samsung smart phone on December 10th, 2014 at 706 at Northwood Shores on Cedar Creek Lake in East Texas. Copyright 2014 by John J. Rigo

View from “Oz” at 7 a.m. on February 25th 2012 on Cedar Creek Lake, Texas
  

View from “Oz” on Cedar Creek Lake, Texas, February 25th 2012 at 7 a.m.

 

“Another View of God’s Church”

I have been to many churches in my lifetime.
None can compare to the beauty of my church.
My church lies outside my back door.
 
Before me lies miles of beautiful water
its beauty more clarifying upon a Sunrise morning.
The clouds above this church of God’s home
are higher than any church steeple.
 
There is no wall or ceiling painting to equal
the clouds above my church.
No gilded statue that equals the sun’s glory
as it breaks forth upon the horizon.
 
There is no choir that rises above the sweet sound
of the wind that sings across my ears.
There is no preacher, preaching to me
nor a basket asking for my coin.
No where else can one
be any closer to God.

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Proposed Cover for my third non-profit poetry book.

Proposed Cover for my third non-profit poetry book.

Working toward simplicty of thought in poetry is the task of great writing.  When one can place a few words to express the wisdom of a bible, then and only then, have they reached the top of the mighty mountain of eternal thought.”

Quote by John J. Rigo, Texas’ Commentator and Poet

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Image courtesy of Google image search. Author unknown.

Image courtesy of Google image search. Author unknown.

I know you find my poetry boring.
Like many you are a leaf counter.
You never see the beauty of the trees
or the magic of the forrest.
 
I do know there are many who have found
the answer in the words of my God-given work.
To those who shared their discoveries in the work
“Thank You.”
 

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"The New America under four and half years under Obama" picture courtesy of AP Rendered by John J. Rigo, Texas' Commentator

“The New America under six years under Obama,” picture courtesy of AP Rendered by John J. Rigo, Texas’ Commentator

Precious Freedoms
Freedoms that my Brothers
and my Sisters
died for on the battle fields
of America.
 
Let not these Freedoms
be wrenched from our bloody hands.
Stand with our Lord and Savior
against these souless Evils.
 
They are attempting to destroy
America’s holy land.
A land that I love.
 
Across this land
let our voices ring in one cry
above the roar of their falsehoods.
Freedom…….freedom.
We will defend her to the death. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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copyright 2014, John J. Rigo. Photo taken on Cedar Creek Lake in Texas on afternoon of 9/11/2014

copyright 2014, John J. Rigo. Photo taken on Cedar Creek Lake in Texas on afternoon of 9/11/2014

View from “Oz” at 7 a.m. on February 25th 2012 on Cedar Creek Lake, Texas
  

View from “Oz” on Cedar Creek Lake, Texas, February 25th 2012 at 7 a.m.

 

“Another View of God’s Church”

I have been to many churches in my lifetime.
None can compare to the beauty of my church.
My church lies outside my back door.
 
Before me lies miles of beautiful water
its beauty more clarifying upon a Sunrise morning.
The clouds above this church of God’s home
are higher than any church steeple.
 
There is no wall or ceiling painting to equal
the clouds above my church.
No gilded statue that equals the sun’s glory
as it breaks forth upon the horizon.
 
There is no choir that rises above the sweet sound
of the wind that sings across my ears.
There is no preacher, preaching to me
nor a basket asking for my coin.
No where else can one
be any closer to God.

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Picture couresy of Bing

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Multicolored lighting amidst the sound
of rhythmic thunder pounded the huge hall.
The laughter and droning noises had a hollow metallic sound.
 
The human Ferris wheel was in motion around the center spoke.
Quick glaces, smiles…some real
other’s set in concrete faces.
There was quiet desperation set in the eyes of many.
 
Touching in passing moments of movement
were soft warm bodies
pressed against arms
hips brushing fingertips.
 
Out of loneliness did I seek this place
a passenger on a self-made time machine.
I am tired of too many futures coming to this moment.
 
I want the warmth of my youth.
Child-book romance where just the touch of a hand
freezes time in its beauty.
 
Primitive drums change tempo
the words are lost to the sensation of physical self.
Reality is moved to the edge of pulsating light beneath
the feet of bodies in tune with the sound.
 
Paired dancers locked in self-love
unaware of each other.
A checkerboard of kings and queens without mates
in a game without end. 
 
Surrender whispers the voice within.
A reflection on a mirrored wall looks intently
at a standing figure.
 
A misplaced look of aging shown in
salt and peppered hair with growing signs of age
around the eyes.
 
The dream of youth shatters.
The Guardian of Time Present
leaves through the portal marked “Exit.”
The dream is no more.

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Courtesy of bg-bg.facebook.com

 
 
 
Last night a dream entered my peace.
It was you sobbing.
Crying for what could have been 
but it was not.
 
Outside of your world everything seemed perfect.
To others your world was without want.
It was not.
 
A part of your soul was seeking
but not finding
some special part of understanding.
 
The part that was compassion
of tenderness
that was not in your moment of being.
 
Was there hope to bind this wound
a wound so deep?
My arms reached for you.
 
Held you tight with lips to your ear.
Whispered I love you
I care
I know your pain.
 
I will always be here for you.
You slowly smiled.
Sunshine filled the room.  

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Courtesy of mcguirehimself.com

Courtesy of mcguirehimself.com

Chains of sorrow upon my neck
reaching for the ones I knew
unable to touch.
 
A slight breath of air
words spoken
but not heard.
 
My world is full of “If I could’s”
no clock to turn back on my regrets.
I offer only a prayer to my unseen God
to let this end.
 
I say to you
there is no time left
but the time of this moment.
 
Time to forgive
time to say, “I love you.”
Time to give of yourself
for all that you could have done
with this precious thing called Life.
 
In so doing
perhaps you not also be
on this ghostly path
that may never end for me.

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