Welcome to my blog site!
You will find many of my recent poems published here.
My first Chapbook has just been published! You may purchase it, or read it for free, at:
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http://poetrandy.weebly.com
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we face a fearsome omen
harbinger of continued war
vile disturbing omen
or portent of the future
our wicked oaths of
democracy for all
noisy blasts of patriotism
shriek of death, destruction
squadrons wither in fratricide
legions maimed, dead from ied’s
desert baked muslim sects
leave charred bodies in the sand
will evil and hatred continue
we face a fearsome omen
- poetrandy -
Revised May 3, 2008
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
before freeways
life was predictable, happier
when we made the seven mile trip
down the straight county two lane road
from Costa Mesa to Santa Ana
it took a minimum of an hour
unless it was so foggy
like it was often
when I picked up Sandy from work
she walked beside the car
for me to see the white line
fog like this could cause
a delay of two, maybe three hours
before freeways
people usually had only one car
a ford, plymouth, chevy or
Dad had a studebaker
if your father was a tradesman
like my Dad a carpenter
or was a farmer like Grandpa
you might only have a pickup truck
we knew nobody with an RV
or air conditioner
before freeways
gas stations had mechanics
no food marts though
they all seemed to have a toilet or two
cars and trucks boiled over a lot
you always carried water
in a burlap bag in front of the radiator
when on a long trip or a vacation
through the desert or to the mountains
before freeways
on the trip to San Diego where Dad
went for reserve marine corps duties
or to get a discharge and turn in his rifle
we took Pacific Coast highway
along the beautiful southern California
coast passing through Newport Beach
Corona Del Mar, Laguna
by then Marty and I were often asleep
the narrow curved road was strewn with
more and more ugly broken down rusted out cars
the closer one got to the bases near San Diego
before freeways
you could buy a car
that would run say a hundred
or two hundred miles for fifteen
or twenty five dollars
so many service men on leave
bought one of these junkers
drove them until they broke down
when they failed to run anymore
they were left by the side of the road
no law against this then
The cops knew service men did this
so they ignored the roadside junk
these eyesores were not cleaned up
till interstate five came through
and pc highway became so little used
for a trip to San Diego
before freeways
it would be at least a four hour
trip to San Diego
along the way San Clemente
was a speed trap
dad used to get tickets there
before freeways
I lost my ragged, dad’s cast off wallet
in a roadside diner in San Clemente
the diner’s owner drove forty miles to
return it the next day
before freeways
the trip to LAX to pick up grandma Roberts
took the best part of a day
we went up Pacific Coast highway
to Long Beach where
we usually had a bathroom break
and a bite to eat
then took Figueroa north
all the way to Los Angeles
before freeways
our speed seemed to never exceed
35 miles per hour
people were polite then
said hello to every one
stopped to talk to friends
even in the middle of the road
before freeways
Mom stayed home
didn’t work
didn’t drive
wore a girdle, garters,
stockings, heels
men always wore hats
Dad a shower
everyday after work
and before dinner
everybody we knew smoked
before freeways
there were no big stores
we had a pharmacy
with an ice cream counter
a privately owned grocery store
a small complete hardware store
where the owner would help
solve your household problems
or discuss the weather with you
before freeways
I was just a kid
we didn’t have a tv
we had to visit a neighbor to see tv
we always paid formal visits
to old shut-in ladies and gentlemen
to check on their health
or to see if they needed any help
before freeways
we knew every cat and dog
in the neighborhood by name
we rounded up strays and gave them
to grandpa for rodent killers
we spoke with every neighbor
even if we did not get along with them
when we had a party we invited
everyone we knew
before freeways
we kids played in the street
used back lots for baseball
cowboys and indians
skeletons of houses under construction
were used for high wire acts
trees were climbed at every opportunity
Mom was always worried
before freeways
we called and dressed up
in clean clothes before a visit
to anyone’s home
in those days our summer shoes
were sneakers with the toes cut out
you got no new clothes
until just before school started
Doctor Snyder would come to our house
when anyone was sick or injured
ambulances were non-existent
our Christmas presents were few
and received with tremendous
appreciation and happiness
before freeways
lots of people had horses
and larger than city-sized lots
a barn, saddles. maybe a wagon or cart
grandpa’s barn was swept
the tack room cleaned up
I mowed our front yard with regularity
Dad washed our car every week
we took pride in things
things were slower then
things were better then
before freeways
- poetrandy -
May 14, 2008
© 2007 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
Scotch Whiskey is fine,
yet I really prefer mine.
One malt or faithfully blended,
corn mash is what God intended
In Kentuck or Tennesee, my ancestors
found a way to escape revenuers.
Corn was freely at hand,
it seemed to cover the land.
Moonshine to some, it's called,
it's illegal, if caught you're jailed.
No royal warrants to guard,
just making it's so hard.
I'll tell you Scots blokes,
Americans are folks,
who love to drink, too.
So let that show you.
We don't have pubs here,
of that it seems queer.
We also drink beer,
enjoy whatever you hold dear!
- poetrandy -
May 25, 2008
© 2007 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
Sitting here in the almost black,
darkened little room,
my wife calls her study,
by the flower print hide-a-bed,
so darn uncomfortable, too;
thinking I'm going blind,
can barely see the whitish screen;
the computer thinks better,
faster than I do on this snowy dark moon-lite night.
Poetry is nice,
it beats drinking one's self blind!
Words come easy when inspired
by lovely early morning sunrises
with the little birds chit-chit-chitting,
the older quail guarding their covey
and the young'uns -- the snow lightly falling this morn
in soft watery clumps so white, wet, wispy.
This mouse and keyboard drives me insane -- it's really making mistakes
with my perfect big fingers keying the keys.
This PC so seemingly, silly and slow
will drive me back to that perfect
little, light, lovable MacBook on My Desk.
Ginsberg just entered my thoughts
and I can vaguely imagine him with a PC
instead of one of his old scribbled upon scruffy journals.
What would Allen do with it on a crazy snowed in at-home, lonely night like tonight?
- poetrandy -
December, 2007
© 2007 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
The wind blows away the leaves;
The wind allows birds to fly;
The wind blows in the snow;
The wind allows hawks to soar.
In the wind, our poetry
is too often blown away.
Poets may write and compose,
they are so rarely read.
The wind blows many things.
It is said that the wind scatters
the ashes of the dead.
Is that happening to our poems?
- poetrandy -
Revised January, 2008
© 2007 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
Snow
Snow on the ground still
Will melt completely and disappear
Leaving the quail homeless.
Birds
Small birds eating seed
Left behind for them to find
Seem utterly unaware.
Frost
Frost filled trees dropping
Their snowy loads for all to see
Their fallen broken bones.
- poetrandy -
Revised December 9, 2007
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
He had so many faces:
father, soldier, adventurer,
business man, retired fireman,
Leonard enjoyed life, family and friends
Married 56 years to the most beautiful woman in Anaheim.
Father to Jeff and Sheila, grandfather as well,
he was an exemplary man. A helper, a fast talker,
Leonard lived on adversity and had fun.
This man’s passions: fast cars, old fords,
christmas trees, a paint business,
and radio controlled airplanes. Always a tinkerer,
Leonard had to stay busy.
Mother’s most loved, father’s nearly unwanted,
he grew to be powerful, strong, resourceful.
Tortured, in pain through his last days, he survived.
Leonard lasted seventy six years.
He was full of interests and varied goals. He loved making
deals and getting his way. Stubborn and insightful,
he inspired others. Always courageous and tough,
Leonard’s gone.
- poetrandy -
Revised April 21, 2008
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
I remember Darlene, what a beautiful girl.
She had just everything. Her hair in a curl,
dark brown, supple, shining and so smooth.
Sweet, soft, sexy she was. I knew the truth,
though. She only used me.
She broke my heart.
To drive-in movies and on long rides we went,
these fantasy trips became my love's lament.
So tender, so gentle did she ask for this and that,
all the while I thought I was a cool cat.
How bad can it be?
She broke my heart.
At school, in my Model A or eating, we sat together,
she was as unpredictable as the weather.
Until Sandy came in, I was gone on Darlene,
then I found out she was just plain mean.
Love is fickle, now I see!
She broke my heart.
poetrandy -
Revised March 6, 2008
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
Vapor trails in the sky,
Silvery in the afternoon,
Soon to disappear,
Silently,
Walking,
Wispy,
Wondrous,
Wandering slowly,
Straight across the sky.
Vapor trails in the sky,
They surely catch the eye,
Wonderful in their shining,
Silvery as a silken thread,
Slowly,
Willowy,
Winding,
Whipping,
In the wind,
Straight across the sky.
Vapor trails in the sky,
Up so very high,
They seem eerie,
And indescribable,
Wondrous,
Wanting,
Waiting,
For What?
To be Blown away,
Straight across the sky.
poetrandy -
Revised February 3, 2008
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved R. H. Roberts
