DEBBIE RICHARD - POEMS

Debbie Richard is listed in the Directory of Poets & Writers as both a poet and creative nonfiction writer. Her poems have appeared in Torrid Literature Journal, Halcyon, WestWard Quarterly and others. Her first book, a chapbook of poetry entitled “Resiliency,” was published in 2012 (Finishing Line Press). Her memoir, “Hills of Home,” about growing up in Appalachia, in the hills of West Virginia, was published in 2014 (eLectio Publishing). Her current project, a collection of poetry, is being illustrated by Ashley Teets, an award winning artist and illustrator. Visit her website at www.debbierichard.com

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Air Maneuvers
​

​You dove between your two companions, 
Twirling, you floated on your back,
Your underbelly pointed toward the sun,
Your wings, grey, outstretched for balance,
Free as the breeze which carried you
Through these maneuvers.
 
Recruiting another, and yet another
Until your troops were eight,
You dove again, almost landing,
The gear poised, sure as an acrobat’s footing,
Minus the tight rope or safety net.
 
Manipulating the flight path
Through a change of positions,
You mesmerized the crowd below
As if this were a military exercise.
 
In a shift of tactics, you steered the forces
En route further down the beach
To carry out yet another performance.
Who would have thought seagulls were so clever?
 
 

Resemblant
​

​If I wrote a book about my dreams,
I wonder how it would be illustrated.
Would it unfold as a rose
with each delicate petal exposed,
unprotected, as a new chapter
in my life, for others to view.
Would it peak in beauty, or be hidden
inside the bud, tucked away
in that secret place,
shielded from injury –
the path I might have taken,
had I told you my true feelings,
both connate in nature.
 

Sunday Afternoon at the Park
​

​As I sit on this park bench, watching the ripples
on a lazy river and listening to the sounds
of a Sunday afternoon – the thump, thump, thump
of a basketball as a father plays with his children,
an excited cry from a child, two boys racing to climb trees
side by side, the breeze gently lifting the pages of a book
I hold in my lap – the story of a young Amish woman
who just lost her husband and son to a tragic accident.
 
Such contrast from what I observe today –
A young couple walking their dog on the circular trail,
a covey of birds flitting over the water with the sunshine
warm upon their wings, two girls passing by on the trail
chatting away as one pushes a stroller, oblivious to my
intense gaze at the baby who has been all but forgotten.
 
Across from the basketball court, little boys play on
the green slide, the smallest crawling up the front to slide
back down again, then transferring their attention
to the monkey bars where their older brother swings,
competition at an early age –
 
A father and daughter sit in the shade after a few rounds of basketball,
the American flag waves proudly beneath a powder blue sky with
pronounced clouds, some appearing to have been airbrushed,
while others resemble cotton candy, stretched at the corners
to form various shapes, and gliding midair as if trying to connect
with others, while sunlight peeks through, giving a slightly gray hue,
as if a shaded effect had been added.
 
As families leave, the quiet descends once again –
the gentle breeze, the cry of a bird in a nearby tree,
the sunshine and shade of the mature trees spilling
across the grass, a few fallen leaves lie crumpled on the ground,
a hint of Fall is in the air, a beautiful day indeed
before the cold winds of winter descend.