The River Whispers

You sang your siren song 
tumbled over the ringing rocks

"come in and play", you whispered

your gentle laughter 

dancing under green leaves

But I am tender, old,  in my decline

I have no use for silly water slides

"come in and play", you whispered

splashing gaily at the butterflies

Then I desired you

young buck in love, 

hard and ready, 

ramming for desire,

 ideal man of action, 

"jump in and play" I shouted, overcome

invincible,  the bold power of youth

in my present condition.

The raft was too tiny and small, 

the water too fast

to chance it at all. I relapsed,

floating bean in the shallow end

"come in and play", you danced, your

sunlight prisms trapping the water ripples

A larger boat might suffice

I shall try again, said my youth returning that night

pushed my blow-up kayak into her moat

"Here to play now!"  said the young man goat

She tore at me, razor water flowing down

tossed me over,  a foolish clowning drowned

"come out and play", her words assaulted my ears

violent water whips pulling me beneath her

One more breath,  I shall die from

Rocks of giants, hidden under the river ride

knees and arms flail, racing to escape her wicked course

"come in and play" she taunts me, 

as I lay battered on her stony shore.

Nevermore and never mind, Id rather walk a desert mile,

tame the mountain spine, or perhaps, 

take a lovely summer drive

In that respect, I'd even find wings to fly.

"Come and play with me"  whispered a grinning sky.

Written by Rick Fisher  2nd Revision  Copyright 9/19/11 

The 1st draft can be found here

Revolution Riders

There is a center walk
between the lanes
on the Roosevelt Boulevard
full of grass
trees
cars racing from
one light
to the next
stop, start
stop start

Dog walkers
center lane stalkers
watch
a human race for
concrete space
cardboard cubicles
watch
the giant clothespin
the old-money clip
liquid lunch
members-only club
windows with
black steel bars


There
servants and dogs
laid down with horses
stables in waiting
for the revolution riders
on the grass
riding fast
racing
from one lantern
to the next
start, stop
stop start

Across the pond
London burns
young men
shatter structures with
clothespin fire
yellow flamed
funeral pyres
anarchy rising
in the ashes of desire

We are the native-now
the enemy hide
in the luxury house
behind concrete walls
we own the center walk
the grass
the liberty tree
our faded history

Govern us with your
mad hatter tea parties
bailed-out bankers
laughing, counting
sell us a dream
at twenty-six percent
then steel it black
steal it back
start, stop
start stop

We are the upside-down
the sinking
under the grass
under the hooves
of revolution riders
start, stop
stop start
light the lantern way









Revolution Riders, A poem
by Rick Fisher @fishfire
Copyright 8/9/2011