Friday, August 29, 2008

On the Porch Without You.


Dear Ms.

Clouds of purple and blue and grey
Gallop across an enormous sky
Grumbling now and then.
Each pulled toward another
Not for my sake alone
Or for the beauty they create
But out of anger or spite
Clashing in flacid rebukes
Savage only in anticipation
Folding colors and emotions together
With pounding rebukes and blinding lashes.

Cordell Rich
From My Journal June of 2007

Under The table

Dear Ms.

Under the table
Our bodies move closer.
Feet move ever so slowly.
A dance of seduction.
Should mine touch yours?
As the moment lengthen
So do my legs.
Dark comes closer to shore.
Tides rise with each swell
And then retreat again.

Cordell Rich
From My Journal June of 2007

The Snowflake and the Candle.



Dear Ms. Which are you?

Candles sizzle and pop
In an angry and desperate struggle.

Each snowflake fights and leans
To avoid the searing heat.

Until the two should collide
in one last desperate battle.

The candle anchored to its moorings
With only a wick to do its bidding.

The snowflakes path of freedom
form sea to sky to its chilly plunge.

The snowflakes gentle fall last lifted
By the hot and raising winds of fate.

One last hopeful tumble follows
Ten thousand feet of thoughtless dancing.

Then crackle or pop
As well as it may suite you.

And in that one instance along
fire turns to smoke or snowflake to water.

Without regard to all the history of the world
Only this one moment matters.

Cordell Rich

Thursday, August 28, 2008

I saw You Sitting there.

I though I saw you at a concert.
Dear Ms.

I saw you sitting with the other girls and I didn't have the courage to say hello. One word. Five letters and my courage failed me. I could have said Hi. Two Letters. Maybe my courage could have shouldered that.

I sometimes wonder if I am a man, and I see myself standing up to the crass man shouting profanities at no one in particular. And I stand up for the crowd. Facing the man.

And in my minds eye I act with square shoulders and directness, unflinching resolve. The kind that abandoned me as my shoulder gall and I divert my eyes when I see you sitting with three girls in skirts.

So I wonder, am I a coward? Would I sit like the rest of the sheep bleating, but never facing the wolf. Or is there a courage separate from the affairs of the heart?

Cordell Rich

Will I Be Sacraficed

From My Journal Nov 07
Dear Ms.

Will I be sacrificed,
or put aside?
How will the end come.
Will you say goodbye,
one more time?
Or have we had our last goodbye.

Cordell Rich

Love is Cruel and Unkind.

From My Journal, February 8, 2008
Dear Ms.

Love is cruel and unkind. A wet and soggy bitch that clings to you long after she had turned cold.

How does she come and infect a man with such ease and strength and so quickly fill every pore, every shallow and then cling stubbornly long after the hear is gone.

At first she flirts and tempts and elates while she envelops you, covers you. Then once she has you entombed in her warmth she begins to consume you until nothing is left but a shell and a memory.

A shell that was once a man with backbone and guts. But now hollowed to the thinnest shell of thin skin held in shape by a brittle cocoon, molded to every feature of a former soul without substance and only a festering memory. Not of what was but of what never was and never will be.

Cordell Rich
Dear Ms. Of course this is yours to. I have ridden the beast day and night since you last said goodbye. This was mine to barefor many nights.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Her Kiss

Your kiss lies there
Waiting for my lips
to draw from you
Quivering breaths
you body shudders
in Anticipation
and Fear.

Cordell Rich

Friday, August 08, 2008

Never Sent

I remember each time we spoke last year, there were 6 of them. This after seeing you every day for so long. Last year I wrote you a letter that began like this. "Im sorry for what I've done to you. Can you forgive me?" But I couldnt bring myself to send it because Im not sorry for telling you that I love you. And so I prayed that I would somehow forget you or that we could be friends again. And each time I prayed, I whispered your name out loud just to have your name on my lips. I dont want it to be over between us. I still love you.

Cordell Rich

I remember each time we spoke last year
there were 6 of them
this after seeing you every day for so long
last year I wrote you a letter that began like this
"Im sorry for what I've done to you. Can you forgive me?"
but I couldnt bring myself to send it
because Im not sorry for telling you that I love you.
and so I prayed that I would somehow forget you
or that we could be friends again.
and each time I prayed,
I whispered your name out loud
just to have your name on my lips.
I dont want it to be over between us.
I still love you.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

He Said Goodbye to Her.

He Said Goodbye to Her.
By Cordell R. Rich This story has two ending. The second was written after a few complaints that the first ending was to tragic, but then so is life sometimes. This story draws on and old and a new love. This story never occured of course but it does capture some of what I went and am going through.


He hadn’t seen her since they were kids really. They had been in love, or so he though all the way up until she walked away. The shock of it had been so abrupt, he didn’t even get to say goodbye. He though of her as the years slid by, when he was alone or when it was quiet. They were seniors at a High School in Wyoming and he had asked her to go with him to their Senior prom. She said yes. Through the clarity of twenty years he understood that it had not been love at all. But the memories had both warmed and haunted him over the years. He remembered the intense emotion and passion he felt as well as the pain and the rejection. Sometimes, when he let the thought intrude to long, he would smile to himself and say “Goodbye” to dismiss the memory and move on.

He had been driving up the coast from San Francisco and stopped to see the famous brass pig at Pikes Peak in Seattle when he though he saw her through the crowd. Just for a moment, but long enough that his mouth went dry and he started moving weaving through the crowd to catch another glimpse and she was there near the Magic shop watching a young man selling secrets and card tricks to the tourists.

As he approached her see saw him and smiled. When he said hello she moved closer and put her arms around him, they embraced and the years melted away. Could it have been love? Had he misunderstood and avoided both her and his hometown now for two decades because of a misunderstanding? They hadn’t even really dated.

He asked her to dance after a basketball game and they ended up dancing and laughing and toying with each other until the lights came on. For the next few weeks each time they saw each other held a little magic, passing each other in the hall or meeting after school. He asked her to the dance and she seemed excited to go up until the day before the dance when she called and said she though it would be better if they didn’t to the dance together. He was stunned and said nothing as she said goodbye and the line went dead. He looked for her the next day at school and she avoided him but the gravity of it all eventually pulled them together. He asked why, and she said wouldn’t say. Again he implored her for an answer and she answered him nothing until the silence became too hard to listen to. She stood abruptly, said goodbye, and walked away. He had been a straight A student and with just two weeks left to graduation, he decided not to go back. Not for class, not for graduation and not for the reunions. He NEVER went back.

She agreed to meet him at one of the parks where the river was wide and shallow and ran red with the salmon in the fall. A beautiful and quite place where they could talk with few distractions and fewer people now that the cold had set in. He arrived about and hour early and brought his guitar, a Gibson J-200 with his name inlayed in the fretboard. In the absence of a wife that guitar had been his mistress and he spent hours and hours with her, and today if things went well he would sing a song for someone else and he sat on one of the picnic tables playing as he waited.

She arrived late. When he saw her pull up he wondered why she didn’t get out of the car and he walked to her holding the Gibson by the neck as she rolled down her window. He smiled and asked if she was OK. She smiled weakly and said yes and stepped out of the car.

First Ending
They had really just started the small talk where there was an awkward moment, the kind common in these situations, and she suddenly said “Ive really got to go” and she stepped towards the door of her car. She was going to leave again, after all of these years they were going to say goodbye after only a few moments and he felt as if he would live that day in high school over and over again forever. He said “I’ve got to know why you wouldn’t go to the dance with me” and she said “I can’t, I’ve got to go.” But this time the look in his eyes held her in place for just long enough. It was the look of man who was completely broken. As he said “ok” he walked to the rear of his car and opened the trunk. She could see the top of his head as he raised the guitar into the air taking the strap from around his neck and putting the guitar carefully in its case. He turned around and sat on the edge of the trunk. She couldn’t see him because the trunk was open but she could tell he had sat down. She saw it as a chance to get back in her car and she slid into the front seat. With almost no forethought he took a small revolver from its case in the trunk and pressed the cold muzzle against his chest, between the buttons of his shirt. He lowered his head and gently said “Goodbye.” He pulled the trigger and his body convulsed hard as he slumped to the ground.

As she settled into her seat and put on her seatbelt she heard the gunshot. She paused to check her rearview mirror then reached for the keys on the steering column and started the car. Twenty minutes later as he felt the rough pavement burning with the cold on his cheek, he died, as she turned from Marine Drive onto the 532 heading eastbound.

Second Ending

He felt as if the whole world had gone silent and he didn’t dare speak as if some spell might be broken. He could hear nothing, but he could feel the beating of his heart in his chest. He looked down at the ground and realized that and he could feel his pulse in his coursing unseen through the veins in his neck and then, he could actually hear the whooshing sounds those veins made in his head and he wondered if swallowing might help. He had played this moment out in his mind again and again through the years, sitting at stoplights or waiting his turn in line at the grocery store. This very scene had played out like a black and white movie and it always ended the same. “I’ve got to know why you wouldn’t go to the dance with me?” He hadn’t meant to say it but the words spilled out as they always had but somehow the words seemed naked. But once they were said they could not be called back.

He felt her moving closer to him before he actually saw her. As she moved closer she put the palm of her hand on his beating chest and pressed her cheek into his neck and held him with her other arm and began to sob with a quiet dignity that could not be denied. He felt her body shake hard with each breath as she rested on him and so he waited. After a time she said “I was scared.” And then she paused as she tried to gain her composure and then began again. “I didn’t mean to drive you away. I wanted to talk to you but then you were gone.” And now he could feel her tears on his neck as she spoke. “I don’t know why I couldn’t go to the dance with you. I was just confused. But I was in love with you. I wanted to say I’m sorry and then you were just gone. You were just gone and I couldn’t find you.” And he realized he had lost her then because he was just a boy back then. But now he knew he would never let her go again.

Cordell Rich

Do you Think Me Mad

Dear Ms.

Do you think me mad
That I should love you so.
And wait here day by day
Have you seen me standing alone
Stuck in though and time and place
Unable to think or move
Wondering if your coming back
Or if I’ll see your face.
So that I might see your eyes
And wonder once again at their color
And at the secrets they hide.
I’m desperate to hear your voice
To See the laughter in your smile.
Yes I‘m waiting.
Do you think me mad.

Cordell Rich

Eclipses' Angel

Dear Ms.

Blue skys can fall like rain,
Just like the Rain.
When blue skys come again,
Please come again.
Keep on walking
If you hear my voice.
The sky won’t mind.
But as for me,
Its cold in your shadow.
How can I be lost in your lies?
Why don’t you come with me?
Pull the covers up to your chin.
I use to think you were an angel.
I don’t want to dream again that I’m falling,
I’ve never held you in my arms,
Or your hands in mine.
I want to feel the wind from you wings.

August 2007
Cordell Rich

Puddles of Maddness

I wanted more from you than you even had.
How does a man fall so hard and become so blind.
Is it because of a darkness inside of you,
That some how blinds me?
Now I swim in puddles of madness.
Never completely immersed,
But covered none the less.

Nov 07
Cordell Rich
This is for you little girl.