Dreams, Goals, and Heroes

By Rick Williams


Evaporated are the dreams
I may have had when young.
No fame or fortune did I reach;
no stars were I among.

When I was just a toddler
my world was family;
Nothing mattered but the things
that were in front of me.

Of course I had no dreams or goals
or knew what such things meant;
My world was very, very small,
and I was quite content.

My parents were my heroes first;
they clothed and cared for me.
They kept me fed and safe from harm;
no better could they be.

Like any boy of age
I idolized my dad,
so he was probably
the first real hero that I had.

He was a mechanic then
but to my bright, young eyes
he was the greatest one of all--
so talented and wise.

Like most young boys I watched TV
and loved the heroes there.
When Superman was on I'd sit
and glassy-eyed would stare.

The Lone Ranger was another of
my heroes of those years.
I loved those men that wore those masks
that hid them from their fears.

Then my hero worship
during teens was put away.
Hormonal issues took the lead
of thoughts I had each day.

In my twenties I'd sometimes sit
and at myself be pissed.
I'd reflect on time I wasted;
opportunities I missed.

If only I had studied hard
and set some goals instead;
I'd probably be much better off;
financially ahead.

When I finally settled down
and married with a home,
I seldom pondered things I missed
or where I yearned to roam.

But then I found myself again
with heroes on the mind,
but this time it was more along
the philanthropic kind.

I love the feel of giving
and wish there was no end
to the needy people I could help
or how much I could spend.

Occasionally I still have thoughts
of how cool that it would be
to be so good at something
that the world would worship me.

Looking back at all I've done,
and dreams that I have had
notable accomplishments are few
except that I'm a dad.

I Like to Rhyme

By Rick Williams


What is it that makes me like
to tell a tale this way;
to format it in rhyming lines
when I have words to say?

It's a style of story-telling
that's hard, without a doubt.
To make the flow and syllables
sound right when sounded out.

I guess I like the challenge;
to see if I can tell
an interesting story
that's fun to say as well.

Sometimes when I start them
they don't go anywhere.
No matter how or what I try
I sit and blankly stare.

After trying many things
that never quite work out,
I use the mental garbage can
then try another route.

Sometimes even I'm surprised
when words seem to cascade.
Instead of simply killing time
a masterpiece is made.

I've dabbled with many varieties
of poetry and verse.
Some were mediocre tries,
and some were even worse.

The difficulty of a poem
can vary with its style,
but struggle followed by success
can make it all worthwhile.

They come in many flavors
these poems that I build.
Some are very hard to rhyme;
some leave me unfulfilled.

But limericks are my favorites;
they're whimsical and fun!
Although they're harder to complete
they please me when they're done.

If you've tried a poem yourself
but failed each time you tried,
try yet again--Don't quit just yet;
success will bring you pride!

This one took me weeks to make
but now that it is done;
Who knows--I may just clear my head
and start another one.