PASSING

PASSING

 

Grieve not my passing,

For like a bird I’m set free,

Unshackled from earthly cares,

From aches, pains and heartache.

 

No Heaven or Hell for my Soul,

Bit, if Mother Nature grant my wish,

Like a shield full of warmth,

My spirits will be near thee.

 

In the breeze that caresses your cheek,

In the cup in your hands that touches your lips.

Gazing fondly back from your mirror,

Loving you always, please remember, my Dear.

 

Let the warmth of my passion

Forever keep you warm

As I bring extra warmth,

To your robes and your home.

 

Though the going maybe be tough,

And you weary from strife,

Chilled by the north winds,

Let my spirit give warmth to your life.

 

For no more would I be tethered,

By worldly rules and constraints,

And like a true Gemini my many Spirits,

Would then be free.

 

To be there when you need me,

And I would be honored and proud,

If in time of frustration, trouble and woe,

You remembered me fondly,

 

If my memory gives you pleasure,

And from the pleasure a strength

To face life with a laugh,

And a sparkle in your eye.

 

For giving joy to the loved ones living

Is the best gift, from those who have died.

 

Bob Richards

 

Grieve Gently My Friend

GRIEVE GENTLY MY FRIEND

 

Grieve gently my friend.

Open wide your heart,

Let sorrow take flight

Along with worry and pain

From the palm of your hand.

 

Grieve gently my friend.

Open wide your heart

To memories of happier days.

Remember the good times

Of love and laughter shared,

Of hugs and gentle touch.

 

Grieve gently my friend

Open wide your heart

For though they are gone,

You are never far apart,

For they are forever

A part of your heart.

 

Bob Richards

Dad

Dad

 

Ah Dad, You gave us more than love

Your passing will not erase memories

Memories of happier times of our youth

You taught us the love of the outdoors

Tried to guide us through the teens

Strove to give us the best

And when Mum’s health failed

You were there day and night

Showing us that love can prevail

That love Dad, was your greatest gift.

 

Bob

ANOMALIES OFTIME

 

Time, constant time,

Measured with dull regularity,

The steady tick of seconds,

Hours, days, weeks, years.

 

Why then does time fly

When you are nearby?

The aches of years slip away

When I gaze upon your face.

 

The years seem to slip away

My body and mind filled with joy,

Your smile, your touch, your nearness,

Heal my broken heart.

 

When we are apart time drags

Here weary feet, makes hours of minutes,

In days my body ages years.

Aches develop deep within my chest.

 

Thank you my love,

For those precious moments of time.

I fondly hold them in my heart,

Drawing upon their joy to face the day.

 

Bob Richards

The Aftermath

THE AFTERMATH

 

With tears and anguish in our hearts

We watch the images of terror repeat

As planes like evil birds of prey

Strike at the innocent of the world

 

Numbly we sit and watch

Images of unspeakable evil

Twin towers reduced to rubble

As fanatics rejoice in the streets

 

How can a man who claims to believe

In a god the creator of all things good

Feel any joy to see such horror

To celebrate the worlds sorrow

 

Yet even as evil rejoiced

Seeing victory among the ruins

Hero’s answered with care and love

Seeking to help and rebuild lives

 

Even before the smoke and dust

Settled in the eerie twilight

Good resisted the urge to strike back

At innocent in another land

 

Symbols do not a nation make

Nor their ruin, civilization destroy

The world did not fall apart in fear

But love and goodness still abounds

 

Ah! Evil your dreadful blow

Unites Nations, Religions and Peoples

Unites the forces of good and love

Unleashes the steadfast power of a dove

 

Like doves of peace we pray

For love, peace around the world

But we are not meek, just calmly strong

Ready to fight for justice, to right this wrong

 

We are ready to fight you evil

For the God you have forsaken

Will listen to our prayers

Will give us wisdom and patience

 

For the God of Islam, Catholic,

Hindu, Buddha and Jews

Is a loving and forgiving God

And will speak with one mighty voice

 

The Gods will grant our warriors

The gift of love and compassion

Do not mistake this for weakness

It is a sign of strength

 

It is easy to be a coward

And strike someone from behind

But we give you warning

We did not pick this fight

 

But we will use our weapons

If we must with bomb and gun

But also with prayer and love

And aid for those less able

 

And as the days and years pall

The masses will flock to Gods banners

Until there is no place to hide

For we know there is a Heaven

 

And it is right here on Earth

There is a key to enter

By people helping people

No mater what race or creed

 

There is a here after

But it is here and now

It is the sound of love and laughter

Not of violence and hate

 

So now we gird God’s armour

And answer his call

We will not rest till hate

Is vanquished from his hall

 

Bob Richards

 

Note written shortly after the events of 9/11

 

Leaves

LEAVES

 

Leaves falling,

Swirling, fleeing before the wind,

Torn fiercely from the branches

By icy fingers.

 

Leaves falling,

Releasing gently, as if on a whim,

Fluttering slowly as if in a dream

To sleep on the earth.

 

Leaves falling,

Brilliant gold, yellow and red,

Celebrate like a colourful part

Just before bed.

 

Leaves falling,

Reminding us our season too is short,

So face our fall season with zest,

Live life to the fullest as we prepare for our rest.

 

Bob Richards

Ironman

Ironman

Chilly air chases sleep away

Cold in upon the calf

The months of training

Over at last

Now into the wet suit

To join the crowd

Near the lake.

Chilly pebbles against the feet

Breathe deep and slow

And slow the heartbeat

With a clear calm mind

Looking at the buoys on the lake

Ready and confident

You have what it takes.

The starter’s instructions

And the gun

Cold water seeps into the suit

Settle into a strong rhythm

Got to keep this beat

Encouraged by canoeists

Think of the scuba divers

Somewhere down beneath.

The voice of the announcer

You now hear with each stroke

Will I make it in time

And still be able to compete?

Dig a little deeper

With each stroke

Drawing strength from the crowd

Beginning to hope.

Joy reigns supreme

As you stagger to shore

The clock and the crowd

Now you know for sure

You can do it

Struggle out of the suit

With helping hands

On with the shoes

Ready to bike

Walk the bike to the street

Off to the shouts and cheers.

Settle into rhythm, whistle or hum

A peppy song to move along

Pushing on the flat sections

Moved along by the crowds

Thankful for the dedicated crews

Manning the aid stations

Replacing the liquids you know

You will lose.

Pushing up the Richtar

The notorious pass

Shifting down, watching

As other pass, keep calm

Race your own race

Sweat in your eyes

And down your face.

Over the top, now downhill

Pass a cyclist who has passed you

Something is wrong, but

You will see this through

Not just for yourself and family

But for volunteers and crews

For spectators and athletes too.

Still time to enjoy the beauty

Of the picturesque Similkameen

Sweat through the rolling roads

Before heading back home

Never far from aid stations

Encouragement and cheers

Just one final big challenge.

The Yellow Lake hill

The day’s toughest test

Again we gear down

Down to our lowest gear

Don’t look too far up

Concentrate on each separate stroke

Just make the top.

The crowds get thicker

As we near the town

Runners and bikers crowding the road

The announcers voice above the rest

I am still in time

Still in the race

Into the transition

Bike right to the end

Swing off the bike

And onto my feet.

Feel the saddle sores

The blisters burst on the feet

Into the running gear

To the cheering crowd onto the street

I will not let them down

First try to run, then to walk

Hoping to finish before ten o’clock

Night fall, the way gets dark

I am late but will not give up

The crowds urge me on

They don’t care that I’m late

Their support touches my heart

I will be back next year for sure

To these dedicated fans

I’ll give back

The race is officially over

But I heard the crowd

Still vocal and loud

With a tear in my eye

And a lump in my throat

I stride for the line

With family and friends.

It’s hard to explain

The incredible joy

For the thousands who have given

Their support for this day

It is them that I’ll remember

When I wear the medal

This is their Ironman Day.

Bob Richards

Written after doing the first race in 1993 at age 50.  Did the race each year until 2000. Plan on doing the next one in 2018 at age 75.

Poem published in Penticton and Area Secrets and Surprises by Penticton Writers and Publishers in 1994