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Best Poems From
RICHARD BETTS
(December 8,1964)
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41.
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Small
I strive to do my best,
To live by the rules and survive.
I do everything I can,
And pray it is enough to provide.
Despite my good intentions,
Sometimes I feel so frail and flawed.
In spite of my best efforts,
Sometimes I feel so fragile and small.
Richard Betts
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42.
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Stones
I confided in you,
All of my hopes and dreams.
I told you of my nightmares,
And how I would scream.
I confessed to you
Every one of my sins,
And cried how I feared
God would not forgive.
I told you that, for years,
Someone I did not know,
Was pelting my back
With little gray stones.
A close friend passed away,
He just suddenly died.
And you and I, together,
Went to say our last goodbyes.
As you reached your hands
Up to the heavens to pray,
I saw something slip from your grasp
And slowly fall away.
When everyone was gone,
And I was alone,
I found what you dropped,
It was a little gray stone.
Richard Betts
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43.
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Time
How many ticks does He permit?
How many beats does one heart hold?
How many spring showers will I see?
How many days will God grant to me?
How many times will I kiss your lovely face?
Or feel the warmth of your tender embrace?
How much time is one man allowed?
Before he must wear his own little shroud?
How many autumn rains will I taste?
How much more time will I waste?
How long will it take for me,
To become the man that I long to be?
Richard Betts
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44.
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Train
As a child, I often stood
On the platform at the station,
Watching as people rushed past
In muted desperation.
I could not comprehend
The frenetic actions and flurry.
I remember thinking, 'What is so vital
To demand such worry? '
Soon, I became a rider
And raced with everyone side-by-side.
We would push our way past the children,
Who stared with questioning eyes.
One day, I drove myself so fast
My speeding train derailed.
And I woke to find, when it came to love and friendship,
I had often fallen short or failed.
Emerging from the wreckage,
I gained a new perspective
And desired to do some soul-searching
And be more introspective.
I thought I was succeeding
By living life in such a hurry.
But where is the success
When everything becomes indistinct and blurry?
I asked myself this question,
And its answer became my key:
Was I rushing to manage my life,
Or was life managing to rush by me?
Now when you see me
And hear the familiar clickity-clack.
You'll know it is my train
Rolling slowly down the tracks.
Richard Betts
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