John Allen Richter
John Allen Richter Poems
- Moonlight Ride The brown tipped grass peeked through the snow...
- My Heavens If Heaven's path were made for one and ne're a ...
- Angel #3 As I stood there, wondering “Who am I” and what ...
- Net Dreams Story book dreams, feathered seams, glory finds ...
- The Old Walnut Tree The blackened burl of charred remains ...
- Odd Little Man The world didn’t stop – street lamp glowing ...
- Inside Things They don't tell you, you see about the ...
Third person narratives are somewhat pretentious, I think, at least for we poets who are still living. If I would start this by claiming " John Allen Richter" was this or did that or the other - then I would feel a little silly. As Abraham Lincoln once exclaimed after viewing a photo of himself - 'So here is the creature itself! ' And so too, here am I before you - no mystique, no ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
''Time makes a day like a year when you're young - and a year like a day when you're old. I'm not sure which is better - diaper-rash-wise...''John Allen Richter
It's no wonder why God made the heart a muscle. It takes a lot of strength to love sometimes. Like when your teenage son comes home with a rainbow Mohawk haircut and complains that you just don't ge...John Allen Richter
Love is something that happens after the pitter-patter, after our feet come back to the ground. Love is like eating dessert first, and then working through the gristle later. Love is the gristle. T...John Allen Richter
...and then God made woman. I'm OK with that. In fact, if I didn't have one I would probably write my own post-it notes to constantly remind myself how stupid and useless I am. My only regret is th...John Allen Richter
True poetry is rarely purposely done, It's really more like a fundamental part of who the poet is. It's like sleeping or eating. When your passion erupts it just is, and you write it down just as w...John Allen Richter
Comments about John Allen Richter
The brown tipped grass peeked through the snow -
With stems quite cold and forlorn.
The north gale came and so winds did blow
and nodded their heads in form.
As for I, a moonlit ride -
on my horse, steady and slow.
With her cold and shivering skin below -
I said 'Not much further to go.'
She low'r'd her head, and back again,
to ring her bridle bell.
As if to say 'Why dear friend,
did you put us in winter's hell? '
'Well, ol' nag, it's like this, you see…
for forty nights I've been alone.
And down the creekbed lives Miss Weatherby,