"Miscellaneous Poems"

Chapter 1

By CD Richards

I've no idea what brought us here
or how it all began.
It's rather glum, what we've become--
I'm not a massive fan.

It's sad to say we've lost our way
and don't know where we are.
Through many years and countless tears
we've not come very far.

Just when did need turn into greed
and so begin the rot?
Perhaps our curse is nothing worse
than "I want what you've got".

We once gave rest to the oppressed
and didn't call them names.
Will fighting cease when men of peace
are not shot down in flames?

Remember when we both were ten,
our dispositions mild?
Divergent views were hardly news
and didn't drive us wild.

No tribal fuss, no "them and us"
on peaceful school bus runs.
How time has flown. Now we have "grown",
exchanging toys for guns.

When folk are sad or feeling mad--
unhappy with their lot;
to find release, they'll grab their "piece"
and shoot you on the spot.

I'm over all the noisy gall
of loud and angry men.
So, to my shed, I've upped and fled--
a safe and cosy den.

I'll work with wood, make something good,
some highly useful thing.
A lifted weight, to contemplate
the smile that it will bring.

The joy of craft will drown the daft
and repetitious noise.
A bird house for my lovely spouse,
a train set for our boys.

Of human ills, I've had my fill;
I'm hiding from this hell.
It's time to play "crab for a day"--
a hermit in his shell.

When I emerge, if on the verge
of doom, our world is stood...
my cave I'll seek, therein to wreak
stern vengeance on some wood.

Author Notes
Thanks for reading.

Chapter 2
Darkness Descends

By CD Richards


an assassin waits
in silence contemplating
the moment to strike


Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 3
Rain on a tin roof

By CD Richards

rain on a tin roof
sweet music from above
my life is good

Author Notes Photo by Nur Andi Ravsanjani Gusma from Pexels (modified cropping and colour by author).

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 4
tanka (thunderclouds gather)

By CD Richards

thunderclouds gather

as gloom permeates the air

storms may wreak havoc

though rarely do they eclipse

tempests of our own making

Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 5
An apology

By CD Richards

I can hear the mothers' anguished calls,
responding to the mournful cries
of the children they will never see again.

I can smell the rotting flesh
on which the blowflies feed
in the blistering sun...
the carcases of those suffocated or crushed
before they reached their destination.

I can remember the feel
of what used to be someone's skin
as, in the summer heat,
it would stick to my own,
while I watched
a nature documentary on TV.

I can recall the taste of warm blood,
and find it hard to believe
I used to relish it,
like some ghoulish vampire.

I can see the cattle grazing
on the green grass of the field next door.
None of them will survive
more than a couple of years
of the decades nature intended for them.

Short years, full of misery
unseen and unimagined
by those who first encounter them
shrink-wrapped on foam trays.

I see them, and I want to say,
"I'm sorry".
Sorry that it took me so long to understand.
Sorry that it took me so long to care.

Author Notes If you got this far, thanks for reading.

Chapter 6
No time like now

By CD Richards

yesterday is gone 
tomorrow, not guaranteed
today's ours to share

Author Notes
Carpe diem.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 7
haiku (black hole consumes all)

By CD Richards

black hole consumes all

that crosses its horizon—

something to a void

Chapter 8
haiku (a raging torrent)

By CD Richards

a raging torrent

follows the same path daily

going nowhere fast

Chapter 9
Mountain Blue

By CD Richards

Ulysses imbibes

Callistemon's sweet nectar—

rhapsody in blue.

Author Notes Ulysses: The Ulysses butterfly, also known as the Mountain Blue butterfly, found in Northern Queensland, Australia.

Callistemon: An Australian shrub, commonly called Bottlebrush, for obvious reasons.

With apologies to George Gershwin.

Photo by Julie (,
used unaltered under Creative Commons 2.0 licence:

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 10
Free Minds

By CD Richards


minds choose their own path

and are not governed

by the expectations of others.

Author Notes Image by trajaner from Pixabay

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 11
Black Dog

By CD Richards

As thunder growls and lightning rends the sky,
within the house, the boy is safe and warm.
Then, at the door, a whimpered, mournful cry,
a small black dog seeks shelter from the storm.

For many years, together they will stay;
through thick and thin, remaining best of friends—
but canine lives are short, and one bleak day,
the boy is left alone, the friendship ends.

Some decades later, looking back on life,
an ageing man has little to regret;
but mourns the fact that neither friends nor wife
could fill the void left by his childhood pet.

There, in the dark of night, he finds once more,
a small black dog stands scratching at his door.


Author Notes After reading a wonderful poem about depression posted by Gloria, I decided, since it is mental health awareness month, to do one on the same topic. Mine is a lot less eloquent, but it's meaningful to me.

The term "black dog" has been used as a metaphor for depression for a very long time. Many know that Churchill used it with reference to his own state of mind on occasions, but it was used as long ago as the late 1700s by the English essayist Samuel Johnson, and before that, possibly by the Roman poet Horace, before the birth of Jesus (though this is sometimes disputed as a poor translation).

This poem is dedicated to Whiskey, Ebony, Misty and Bella -- the four black dogs in my life (so far) -- you are all loved more than you can know.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 12

By CD Richards

On Mount Olympus, Zeus's son
prepares his brutal wars to wage.
While Shaddai, Lord of Kingdom Come
shall blot his foes from ev'ry page.

As Allah bids the faithful fight
and through each jihad honour him,
see Ares motion with delight
to Horus, at the party grim.

While down below, for all they're worth,
men kill and maim those not like them;
for xenophobes were blighting Earth
before God came to Bethlehem.

So, in a holy name, we seek
to spread our own myopic views.
We kill the brave, enslave the weak,
then watch it on the nightly news.

Perhaps some folk may dare to dream
one day will dawn a shining light
that sees all humans on one team,
unburdened by the need to fight;

but I suspect it could well be
the Jester has the final word...
for life on Earth and fantasy,
in equal measure, are absurd.

Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 13
The Wrong Medicine

By CD Richards

A young lad from Dublin named Sean

was bed-ridden, sick and forlorn.

Asked if Guinness would cure,

he replied, "To be sure!"

and was drunk as a skunk in the morn.


Chapter 14

By CD Richards

His hopes,
on shifting sand,
are built. He's unaware
a turning tide shall wash away
his dreams.


Author Notes
Photo: Curt Smith from Bellevue, WA, USA [CC BY 2.0 (]

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 15
Less is more

By CD Richards

A perfect bloom's a fragrant, thornless rose
Beloved, the mind that does not harbour spite
Consider fields of corn, devoid of rust
Does peace erupt if no one's there to fight?
Enjoying life with less, our burden's light

Author Notes Photo by Julian Paolo Dayag from Pexels.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 16
Not my house

By CD Richards

The ultimate shame:

"House of God", a breeding ground

for Cardinal sins.

Author Notes It was revealed today that the Vatican finance minister, Cardinal George Pell, has been convicted on five charges related to the sexual abuse of children, including sexual penetration.

Equally as bad as the widespread abuse of innocents by clergy is the constant denial and cover up, by the Catholic Church in particular. Is it any wonder people are leaving organised religion in droves? These are the people who stand in the pulpits of their tax-free citadels and decry the apostasy of society, demanding repentance from those whose "sins", if any, pale into insignificance beside their own.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 17
Two's Complement

By CD Richards


Just as a flag can't fly without its pole

A furnace serves no purpose without coal

You are the one, my source of light and heat

No one but you can make my life complete

Each half of "us" contributes to the whole

Author Notes Please note:

This poem is not an endorsement of fossil fuels!

From Wikipedia:

Two's complement is the way most computers represent positive or negative integers. To get the two's complement negative notation of an integer, you write out the number in binary. You then invert the digits, and add one to the result.

This poem has nothing to do with computers or mathematics.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 18

By CD Richards

Deceptively wise words:
"I don't know."

Author Notes Thanks for reading

Chapter 19
I Wish I Were a Freeverser

By CD Richards

Time. Relentless, marching onward, 'til

my bones all turn to lime. Thoughts are

fleeting, each competing; muse

entreating, "Write them down!"

But I cannot, I'm

no hot shot— I

still need to

make it


Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 20
Mostly Love

By CD Richards

Measure greatness by achievements? Not

for those who rise above. Kindness

is their crowning glory — fits

them like a hand in glove.

When their time on Earth

is done, they've lived

a life that's



Author Notes I sat down to write an entry for the nonet contest. This came out, but I didn't feel it was appropriate for a contest entry; so I'll do another one - maybe :)

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 21
Behold, thou art fair

By CD Richards

Your dove-like eyes, so innocent and wide,
will sparkle, as upon them daylight plays.
Their purity and innocence help hide
the fact that they are pointing diff'rent ways.

Your hair is like a flock of roaming goats
atop the hill, they graze without a sound.
The wayfarer who passes by, soon notes
a strong perfume of wild oats all around.

Your teeth resemble freshly shorn sheep, who
are happy in their new, denuded state.
Of course, they're mostly chipped and broken, too;
just like a shattered piece of China plate.

Your lips are like a finely structured thread,
upon them, any man would wish to feed.
They look a treat when painted ruby red,
I'll leave it up to Freud how to proceed.

Your temples are a tower, tall and straight;
a fortress safe and sound, secure and strong.
Yes, surely, none so fine could e'er relate 
to wicked men, who'd do another wrong.

Your breasts are like a pair of fawns, sent out
to play and frolic in the gentle breeze.
When gales arrive, they swing and sway about,
and when you stand, they hang down by your knees.

My gift to you, this love verse I have writ;
in style that's Biblical and oh, so quaint.
I hope it's not a pile of steaming dung;
one thing's for sure, my friend—Shakespeare, it ain't!

Author Notes Inspired by Song of Solomon, Chapter 4.

This was going to be my entry in the Love Poem contest, but I discovered when I went to post, I had posted one months ago. Too bad, I'm sure this was a guaranteed winner with all true romantics ;-)

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 22
Fade to Black

By CD Richards

The headlong rush of moth to candle's flame
is understood by very few but he.
A fly, entrapped within the spider's game,
will come to rue his loss of liberty.

Why is it that we seldom can foretell
the sad conclusion of our errant ways?
Do pheromones control us with their smell,
ensnaring us within a perfumed haze?

No longer does the scent of you hold fast
the chains which bound my once impulsive heart.
These insubstantial dreams must now be cast
aside—there'll be no tears as I depart.

Watch as this moth evades the deadly light
and fades into the refuge of the night.

Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 23

By CD Richards

the last man standing
is seldom victorious
at musical chairs

Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 24
Shining Light

By CD Richards

one small candle shines

in darkness—

truth reigns triumphant


Author Notes Image: public domain, sourced from

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 25
A Mother's Son

By CD Richards

Enjoy your dinner
Last week I was someone's son
Now I'm a meat tray

Author Notes Thanks for reading.

Chapter 26
The rudderless ship

By CD Richards


I can't imagine going back in time

to live life as I did when I was young;

when failing to comply was called a crime

and blind obedience's praises sung.

Yet, some folk seem to need a guiding hand—

a father figure, showing them the way;

what's right or wrong, they cannot understand,

unless inscribed divinely onto clay.

Is forming one's own judgements mortal sin?

Don't brains exist so we can work it out?

A child needs their behaviours pencilled in;

an adult's one who's learned to deal with doubt.

Some Biblical advice for one who clings:

"When I grew up, I gave up childish things."


Author Notes There is a much thrown-about argument in apologetics that basically says if one doesn't believe in an almighty being who dictates what is right and wrong, it's impossible to have a moral compass. Another way this belief is presented is that the non-believer is like a rudderless ship, thrashing about in stormy seas, with no sense of direction.

This is a nonsensical argument, and my little poem is a response to that claim.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 27
Matthew 17:20

By CD Richards

With faith as small as

the tiniest mustard seed

(and some dynamite),

mighty mountains can be moved.

Trust things that are real.

Author Notes Faith is belief without evidence. Where there is evidence, faith is not required. I've often seen the material in mountains relocated thanks to explosives, but never once due to faith.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 28
The card game

By CD Richards

"Trump him now!" my brain commanded, when he played the Ace.
Ace just wasn't good enough; my Joker took the trick.
"Trick me once," my foe exclaimed, "but now you're out of time."
"Time to show you how it's done; you upstarts make me sick!"

"Sick of winning? Not a chance! Let's play another hand."
"Hand them over," I continued, "seems you're in a slump."
"Slump, my ass," he coldly glowered; this no-talent hack.
Hack — the word brought me full-circle, right on back to Trump.

Author Notes Trochaic meter, 13 syllables per line.

For anyone who may be wondering, the game is 500, which is quite similar to euchre. The Joker is the highest card in the trump suit.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 29

By CD Richards



creation's pinnacle


nature's parasites?


Author Notes There are three main forms of symbiotic relationships:

mutualism: where both organisms benefit;
commensalism: where one benefits, while the other is neither helped nor harmed; and
parasitism: where one organism gains, and the other suffers.

Where do we stand?

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 30

By CD Richards

How could we know this tiny, gorgeous pup,
a cheeky mass of gangly legs and ears,
would be a source of joy as she grew up,
and bring us so much pleasure through the years?

Why should our silly expectations sway
you from the better knowledge in your head?
The sheep were left to go their merry way,
it's more fun rounding chickens up instead.

Your pump was strong, the vet said, to the end,
but human ones are weak and prone to blight.
The loss of you, our loved one and our friend,
has torn our fragile hearts in two tonight.

Dear Misty, "Thank you" can't begin to say
the happiness you brought to us each day.

Author Notes Misty had been bravely enduring a failing respiratory system for several months. Last night, she lost the fight. My heart is broken. Thanks for reading.

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