Wednesday, May 10, 2017

The Crossing of Paths

by Rick Williams

There once was a cute redhead named Brenda,
and we both, the same school, did attend-a.
Now that we're older
I am able to hold her
and we are finally boyfriend and girlfriend-a.

Many years have gone by and gone fast,
and though many experiences have passed,
we've found that we are
quite alike--it's bizarre,
I'm so glad we're together at last!

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Limerick for Warren

by Rick Williams

A "planner-turned-screener" named Warren
Who, in thrift stores he likes to be porin’
He has roving eyes
for collectible ties
The rare ones are the ones he likes scorin’

Monday, November 7, 2016

Sun and Shade

by Rick Williams

How tragic it would be to have the love of your life actually allergic to the sun's embrace?
What else could you do but adjust and be appreciative?

Naked on a blanket there;
lying down, without a care.
He is baking in the sun
but she: alas, enjoying none.

Because sun on her does not agree,
and affects her skin so awfully,
she lies and rests within the shade--
ducking the sun she must evade.

She has to hide from steady rays
lest her skin rise up and health betrays.
Still, she loves the feel of clothing-free,
so does with help from a shady tree.

Though easier separate blankets might be,
they'd be out of each other's reach, you see.
So, their blanket must be placed just right--
placing her in shade while he's in light.

Still, she smiles and feels complete,
and revels in the lazy heat.
The sounds of birds are all around,
and whispering leaves add to the sound.

Idyllic there among the trees,
and cooled by nature's loving breeze.
She looks over at him lying near
and sighs--so glad that she is here.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

The Hundredth Post!

By Rick Williams

Wow, it appears this stupid rhyme right here
means a milestone has been logged.
This entry makes the hundredth post
of my ramblings on this blog!

I had many written when it began;
just crap I wrote over years of time.
this blog was started to keep them safe;
these bits of limerick, prose, and rhyme.

As time went by more things were added;
some from pain and some came easy.
Some of them were very thoughtful,
and many humorous and cheesy.

While a hundred posts in the blogging world
is a fairly easy goal to meet,
the fact that I'm not any kind of poet
makes a hundred seem like quite a feat!

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Sixty Years Old?!

By Rick Williams

It happens every single day;
no preparation does it take.
Sleeping when our day is done;
we're older when we wake.

This birthday felt a little weird;
it was different in some way.
I felt the same way physically
but my mind felt... disarray.

I guess the thought of saying "sixty"
is mostly what's to blame.
It feels like now it's fine to say,
"I'm old, you play the game."

I'm fine; it's just a thoughtful time
to reflect on all that's past...
especially since I never thought
I'd arrive this far, this fast.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Wondering Aloud

by Rick Williams

I grew up like so many boys:
told, "Shh, big boys don't cry!"
What did I know--I was just a kid;
Who started that? And why?

I wonder who I'd be right now
if things had gone a different way.
When I was young--instead of rules--
was allowed to think and say.

Childhood filled with "Pay attention!"
and things I shouldn't do,
rules of some kind all the time
would constantly pursue.

Would I be a different person now?
Would relationships work out?
Would I be rid of loneliness
that I seldom am without?

Who knows, I may be even worse,
unfriendly to folks I know,
a surly, asshole with a grudge
that has nowhere to go.

I guess I'm comfy where I'm at
and my life moves pretty well
though it's interesting to ponder
what the "what if's" might foretell.

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Butterflies in Spring

by Rick Williams

Oh, to be a butterfly!
I'd be no threat at all.
I could fly most anywhere;
from fence to treetop tall.

I could dart around the land
bringing smiles to all who see,
always barely out of reach
when they'd try to capture me.

I could land on someone sunning
and they would let me stay!
They would feel a special bond
to nature as they lay.

I'd fly around in search of ladies
that were naked in the sun,
and catch their eye just to be safe--
I'd hate to scare someone!

Her nipple would be a perfect spot
to stop and take a rest!
She'd laugh and feel me tickling
as I walked around her chest.

I'd be no threat at all of course
we all love butterflies in spring!
when (or if) one lands on us
we feel good luck they bring!

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Cloud Dance

By Rick Williams

to dance
among the clouds

Close eyes
think skies
and smile aloud.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016


By Rick Williams

When I learned of motorboatin'
my mind just reeled with thought.
In daydream I was floatin'
my concentration: it was shot.

I thought of all those times
of motorboatin' that I've done,
I was young and in my prime
when I experienced all that fun.

Now that I know exactly how
to do the right face-plants,
I want to do them over now
but doubt I'll get the chance.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Yet Another Sunday Morning

By Rick Williams

Wandering blindly in the morning darkness
I walked--still naked--into the living room,
my hair a ratted mess from flannel sheets.

The furnace roared as house warmed.
Then the house whispered,
"Psst, the hot tub--it beckons."

I turned on a small light in the kitchen.
To exit the house means I must return,
and I wish return to the smell of coffee!

I adjusted the thermostat for my return,
and with coffee brewing, I slid the patio door open.
I tried to go slowly and make no sound,
but the aging rollers under the door betrayed me.
They screamed into the night,
threatening to wake the world.

The freezing cold air enveloped me,
chastising me, ridiculing me for being bare.
I didn't care.
I knew what awaited me.

The pre-dawn darkness still prevailed
as I slid myself into the steaming water.
I inhaled at the sudden attack of heat.


I gazed upward at the dim stars,
wishing I lived in the country
so I could see them all.

The lonely wail of a train engine spoke
from somewhere in the distance,
acknowledging me, celebrating me.
I could even hear the clacking of its wheels
in the dark stillness of the morning.

The stars were slowly fading from view
as the arrival of the sun grew nearer and nearer.
As if on cue I heard the drone of an airplane.

The world was waking up.

The animals next door began to talk
the geese honked and talked among each other
and one of the roosters announced his presence.

But there was just one more thing I wanted.
I wished to see the morning crows.
Every morning they leave their roost
down in the valley where the trains pass,
and return to places where they spend their days
begging for french fries in parking lots.

Ah, there they are--the first ones show,
with mocking cries as they pass overhead.
They're telling me, "It's time. Go back inside.

Your coffee awaits."