Born on December 8,1964, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Richard Betts, was raised in the Mayfair/Tacony section of northeast Philadelphia.
In December 1986, he earned a bachelor's degree in journalism from Indiana University of Pennsylvania (IUP) . more »
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Richard Betts Poems
The world is beautiful, Life is fine. The world is frightening, And life is unkind.
As I stand here in the chapel Praying for God to grant you His peace, A deluge of questions rains down, But the answers provide no relief.
People we love are a lot like flowers, And we are the gardeners who reside. We get to choose which flowers Are the centerpieces of our lives.
How many ticks does He permit? How many beats does one heart hold? How many spring showers will I see?
How did I manage to make it? How did I somehow survive? I look at the others who perished, And I ask myself, 'Why? '
What if you and I Both believed deeply in the Lord? And you and I Were on opposite sides of a great war.
Borders and bridges and battleships, The lies that slip from your slithering lips. The color that taints your suffering and sorrow.
In the fields where you used to roam, You lay tangled up in his chains. And now when he leads you home, Your spirit is choked by his reins.
When you mock me, Do you feel like a bigger man? Do you not know that your words Sting like the back of a hand?
I have never been this consumed, And worn such resentment on my face. And in our united sense of purpose, I can feel His hand of constant grace.
Years ago, when I was young, I often dreamed I possessed the power to fly. At night, I would shed the weight of my fears And slip into the wonderful sky.
If the moon and the sun waged a war, Who would win? The moon, I'm sure. The sun would fight face to face,
We keep your secrets And all your sins, Close to ourselves And away from him.
He decided to leave her past behind, And keep her love a little more confined. So they slipped away with no farewell,
Comments about Richard Betts
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The world is beautiful,
Life is fine.
The world is frightening,
And life is unkind.
The world is wonderful,
Life is magic.
The world is wicked,
And life is tragic.
The world is happy,
Life without a care.
The world is desperate,
And life is full of despair.
The world is funny,
More like funny-strange.
The world is constant,
Constantly full of change.
The world is full of goodness,
And I pray you find your share.
For the world is a fickle lover,
And life will be unfair.