The Rain Song

By Rick Williams


While in my house one quiet day
I heard a sound--a sort of ringing
My ears reached out with probing wonder
I realized then: the rain was singing!

The random raindrops played a tune
as they splashed against the chimney tin
I smiled and closed my eyes as I
enjoyed it--safe and dry within.

Hot or Cold?

by Rick Williams


The heat, oppressive as it is
in August, people languish
they forget that only months before
they spoke of cold in anguish.

"Give me warmth to thaw my bones
I can't take this any more
I must have sunlight--bring it forth
I'm frozen to the core!"

How quickly they forget those words
though heartfelt they were then
now that it's both hot and dry
their tune changed yet again.

"Give me winter, where I can layer
as much as needed to feel right--
a time when I have full control
of comfort--'specially at night."

The scene repeats two times a year
and why?  There are two reasons:
Winter and summer both, and
people struggle with both seasons.

By the time six months have passed
the memory of their hate will wane
and they forget how bad they felt
the last time they professed disdain.

But every year the same old cycle
comes and goes as it has always
and every year the same old song
will echo down the same old hallways.

Soldier On

By Rick Williams


Sometimes, alone, my tears will flow
and after, some relief I'll know..

While depression isn't on my list
of things, which, in my life persists

Still, occasionally it does present its face
and causes anguish while in its embrace

I have to wonder how those cope
When they can't run or have no hope.

To rise from bed and sleepless night
shielding eyes from screaming light

Stubbornly, their dark and weary faces
manage to bend and tie their laces.

What drives them is a stubbornness
Apparently most of us must possess.

It's one of those unwritten human things
to soldier on, no matter what life brings.

The Dream

by Rick Williams


I looked in the mirror
and saw a flat ocean
all the way to infinity
instead of me.

I stared hard for something
or some kind of meaning
but colorless distance
was all I could see.

I reached with my hand
for the smoothness of glass
but instead I found air
where the mirror should be.

I felt I was falling
and was suddenly scared
I cried out, but in vain
for no one heard my plea.

I awoke in my bed
my heart beating loudly
my mind was still there
though it tried hard to flee.

Our Silent Classmates

by Rick Williams


Years of life have come and gone
since days we laughed in class.
Fewer of our friends remain
as sadly--some have passed.

Some were known by everyone,
and others: known by few,
but popularity aside
still missed by all they knew.

Though each reunion that we have
brings news of classmates lost,
the news brings welcome memories
of times our paths had crossed.

During time they spent on earth
through good times and through bad
they shared portions of themselves with us
and we treasure the times we had.

For Mom on Mother's Day

By Rick Williams


Thanks for all the times we shared
and thanks for all the wounds repaired.

Thanks for meals we always had
and healing us when we felt bad.

Thanks for all the times you pretended
and for all the broken hearts you mended.

Thanks for all the sleep you traded
when we were sick and felt deflated.

Thanks for giving us the space
to learn things and to find our place.

Thanks for coming to concerts and plays
even though they were bad most days.

Thanks for times you drove me around
on my paper route when the rains would pound.

Thanks for keeping us together
through thick and thin and stormy weather.

Thanks for being the best mom ever.
I love you now and I'll love you forever!

Class Outside

By Rick Williams


Working in a building here
far from window, far from door
so much is missed when days are clear
the air is stale and semi-poor.

I remember school days, back
when springtime sun would shine;
we'd have a nice day "sun-attack"
and have outdoor class divine.

I loved those days we sat outside
with sun, and birds, and bees;
it made the classroom big and wide
with grass, and clouds, and breeze!

A Forgotten Limerick to Melinda

By Rick Williams

[I just discovered this on one of my hard drives.  It's from several years ago and unpublished until now!]


The favorite cousin of mine
who loved to have guests over to dine
her hugs felt so right
and she held me so tight
that between us no daylight did shine.

She loved a good laugh and would flirt,
she liked to have fun but not hurt
"We'll be married," she'd boast,
"if our spouses are toast"
"and I don't care about gossip or dirt."

I knew it was wrong for such thoughts
tried to push them aside but could not
It was obvious to me
I'm as naughty as she
Besides... She has always looked hot!

I wonder why she's never asked
for a ride on my Hog, slow or fast
Perhaps if I dared
or maybe compared
the vibrations to orgasms past?

I like to give rides to good friends
but only to ladies, not mens.
The way they hold tight
feels amazingly "right"
and makes me go agains and agains.

The parties she held were all great
The food and the drink were first rate
The guests she invited
always pleased and delighted
and everyone laughed as they ate.

Good ol' Milt was always a blast
He always dressed well and with class
We'd laugh and we'd joke
and the stories he spoke
They were interesting things from his past.

The old relatives would usually show too
reminiscing the whole evening through
But they're family you know,
so no dismay would we show
As their numbers are getting to be few.

It's funny how as we get older
we speak and we act so much bolder
perhaps it's the fire
of hidden desire
that burns after enough time to smolder.

O' Ireland!

By Rick Williams


Ireland, so lush and full of green
we loved you more and more
as days went by and more was seen
though sun did shine and rain did pour.

Your country lanes have so much feel
with all the fences made of stone
though a bit too close when at the wheel
with ivy, overgrown.

Your fields; their shades of healthy green
some empty, some with grazing sheep
were all so neatly kept and clean,
no matter flat or hillsides steep.

Your Irish people, so eager, they
no matter what we asked;
So happy to talk and so much to say
with friendliness: unsurpassed.

Your colorful villages with cheery stores
Seemed to extend a friendly hand.
We wanted to stop, to walk, explore
each village in the land.

Our favorite: your rugged, windblown coasts!
Some places: sheer and rocky drops.
The misty rains sometimes made ghosts
of shots we took on camera stops.

The broken backs of remains, once grand
castles, abbeys from the days of old.
We found them all across your land
Some hidden, most with tales untold.

The beautiful sound of Irish speech
makes music of the spoken word.
I loved to hear you talk, and each
time I smiled when it was heard.

Let's not forget the foods we ate
all home-grown or fresh-caught
everything we tried was great!
We looked forward to meals a lot!

We found your pubs inviting, all
when we needed to take a rest.
Your soups and breads enthralled
we said each time, "That was best."

We truly fell in love with all we saw of you
and we saw such a great many things
we left Ireland with fond memories, true,
and to those we will always cling.

Train of Thought

By Rick Williams


Eyebrow cocked, I'm trying hard
but where's my train of thought?
Is my brain abused and scarred?
Is that what reckless life has fraught?

I'm groping for any kind of thread
But, try as I might, I can't think what.
It's like my once clear mind is dead
or deeply mired in a muddy rut.

I try not to get uptight and fret;
just sigh and move along.
No use in getting all upset
as years creep up things will go wrong.