Caller By Rob S. Rice A centauress once came to call As I lay lost in distant dreams I heard her hoofsteps in my hall, I went to greet my lady guest And left off all my thoughts and schemes. We talked of little, and of much, Of things that were, and things we could Hope to make real, someday, and touch We drank, and took a minute's rest, And thought each other's ideas good. One's mind may roam, with guests at home One really should be more polite. I saw her hand move toward a comb I bowed, and wished her all the best, And let her go into the night. And so some beauty came my way And lingered for a pleasant hour And when I find my colors

Standing Alone by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Standing Alone

Standing Alone By Rob S. Rice I stand and think at night, alone... Of what seems right when on my own... Old thoughts that seem forever new, My own, my centaur's point of view. Thoughts and sights, what do they mean? Not of one world, but in between What some would call, to say the least... The world of man, the shape of beast. In retrospective, though, I find No easy answers in my mind. No simple way to put the whole, To codify my two-part soul. No simple way to put the whole, To codify my two-part soul. What was it, now so long escaped... That left my mind and heart reshaped Into a thing that cannot be, That has made half a horse of m

Night Thoughts of a Poet by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Night Thoughts of a Poet

Night Thoughts of a Poet By Rob S. Rice I lie in bed musing and think, ceaselessly, In hope of the visions such times bring to me. Such intricate splendors, and rotoscoped scenes Of times elsewhere, elsewhen, with splendid machines! The ‘whoosh’ of the pistons! The clatter of gears! The whirling disk that Can turn back the years! The rumbling treads, The turbines that scream All loom into view through a veil of steam. With eyes clasped tight shut I see loom into sight The tripods the Thunderchild fared forth to fight. Robur’s groaning aerostat flows through the sky, And Abraham Lincoln next sails out to die. The groani

Old Iron by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Old Iron

Old Iron By Rob S. Rice They say it's time to say goodbye, They say the end has come at last. No time to really tell me why, But you're abandoned to the past. They say it's over, through and done. They say that the good times have been. I'll give you up when Hell's ice through, And maybe not quite even then. Yes, you're old, and so am I. There's better out there that costs more. There's other vehicles to try. But my old key still fits your door. They've done things to your gas and oil, They've tried to run you off the road. But with my brain and sweat and toil I think you're equal to the load. Age or luck might let us down Gas is g

New Kingston, Pennsylvania: Troll vs. Giant by RobSRice, literature

Literature

New Kingston, Pennsylvania: Troll vs. Giant

New Kingston, Pennsylvania: Troll vs. Giant Javalonius Bierdan was like all four-year olds. He was alert, focused, intent, and carrying a beach ball. Daddy had wanted to go to the place where Grandpa had worked. It was going to open again. Grandpa said he would take Daddy. Javalonius expressed a desire to go, too. He expressed it sharply, he expressed it repeatedly, and he expressed it repeatedly with increasing sharpness. Javalonius went, too. Tall dark building. Icky spider webs. Grandpa walking around, pointing to this and that, Daddy nodding, looking, and Javalonius carrying his beach ball and looking for something to play with. It was

Yorktown by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Yorktown

He kept looking--stubbornness was also a family trait, and in the light of--what they'd done--he needed once more the past to help him face the future. There it was, an old envelope in the old manila folder. The letter had been too long for Father to frame it, as he so proudly had some of the other letters, the tributes--all of them forgotten that horrible day, and in the long, empty, lonely years since. Ozzie sat down, feeling the yacht rocking under him as he read: The Secretary of the Navy Washington July 2, 1942 Dear Mr. Kingston: It is my pleasure as Secretary of the Navy to submit to you, along with the Department’

Russell Johnson, 1924-2014 by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Russell Johnson, 1924-2014

Russell Johnson, 1924-2014 By Rob S. Rice I groped for myself, and watched on the TV A story about seven souls lost at sea. A show long put by, yet that show lingered on And the person who helped me find me is now gone. Such a silly series, and so long ago. But it brought me laughter through childhood woe. Like so many others, it got through to me, My long love of laughter, my love of the sea. They called him 'Professor,' at first, just 'The Rest.' But of all those people, I liked him the best. Unflustered and gentle, and careful and kind. He set an example of a well-stocked mind. He had a calm nature, a strong, noble heart. He made me be

God D___n You, Cat by RobSRice, literature

Blows by RobSRice, literature

Literature

Blows

Blows By Rob S. Rice My friend, in the future, as far as it goes, You'll find it my pride to stand here at your side. Let all know I'm here as a ward to your woes, And steel is tempered by blows. My love, let me be here and ward off your cares, You'll find that I'm strong, and not part of the throng. My faithful trustworthiness each new day shows, And steel is tempered by blows. The truth is my charge, and I face all its foes With unveiled scorn, and contempt, now reborn, For each is a liar, and, in truth, each one knows, And steel is tempered by blows. There is ugliness, wind, and the cold, stinging snows, And they strike at my heart, ev

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