Drips, trickles, streams a cascade
Of life. Fresh water.
by R. A. Richardson
Before I announce the winner of “The Inaugural Rich100Award” allow me a moment to say this. If I had an orchestra of French horns, violins, and a timpani, I would conduct them in a rousing rendition of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.” Since I don’t, I’m going to cheat and use this rousing rendition from youtube to announce the winner, and yes, I know I used the photo again, but it is edited with the winners name.
And the winner is…Mr. Osama Iftikhar at poemsandpeople.wordpress.com. Please join me in a hearty congratulations to Mr. Iftikhar on this remarkable achievement. And while you are at it, you must visit his blog. He has a remarkable voice that beckons to us all.
Thank you sir for visiting and following this little blog of mine.
In a previous post, I discussed my failure to get on track with NaPoWriMo, so I decided to create my own challenge for myself. Well, here it is, complete with my very own fancy-schmancy logo for my very own challenge. And here is poem number one – so five more to go, since I set my goal as six by the end of April. Enjoy.
Let’s set the record straight. The drug addled mind
Is mine of course. It’s all quite legit.
Don’t think I’m a junkie, there is no abuse.
One doc wrote this script, another the others,
One pill now, another later, take two at bedtime,
And take all the blue ones, make sure that you finish,
So no need to worry, no pause for concern.
No meat wagon needed, my heart’s still tickin’
And if you please and you’ll be so kind,
Don’t call the police, no need at this time.
The pills won’t fix me, just help me feel better
When pain racks these bones, I’ll take one more.
These songs; they’re only words searching
For rhythm and timing, a hum or a whistle,
A catchy good chorus sung by the Angels
A guitar, a sitar, Entwistle on bass.
In these words are my songs, yet to be sung.
When I sing them, if I sing them, I’ll be happy
So, I’ve said it already, but just to be clear
Let the record be straight, let there be no confusion.
The mind that’s quite addled and “Dazed and Confused”
Thanks much Jim and Robert for singing the blues.
This mind is okay, not doing that bad;
Just works kinda slow and sometimes shuts down
So, I’ll have one more white one for this drug addled brain
Don’t fret, please don’t worry, don’t have you a fit
I’ll just have this last one, maybe one more.
A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.