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Poems By Poet Richard Betts  7/27/2016 12:13:55 PM
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  RICHARD BETTS (December 8,1964)
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Measure the hours
Spent with your head down,
Searching for yourself.

And every time
You uncover some
Lost, misplaced item -

And have the gall,
The temerity,
To hold your head high -

He comes along and
Buries your newly
Discovered artifact

Beneath mountains
Of insults and blame.
You succumb to his

And no longer dare
Plow the earth looking

For some remnant of
Your past happiness.
Once in a while,

I notice you there,
Staring into the
Dirt looking for some

Lost memory of...

Richard Betts




In my sleep, I see the people,
Leaping into the blueness of the sky.
But none of them begin falling,
They sprout wings and begin to fly.

The people glide and gently float,
And gravity they defy.
Rather than plummet to us below,
They turn to the heavens and slowly rise.

Perhaps they are there to survey our horizon,
And serve as our saviors, our protection.
I watch as they disappear,
To the pinnacle of their ascension.
Richard Betts




You told me of your demons,
And how they taunted you.
You fought to be strong,
But your weakness; it haunted you.

We talked about the fine line
That separates salvation and sin.
You wondered aloud,
Would Heaven let you in?

You searched for a sanctuary;
A shelter from harm.
Instead you found protection,
Pumping poison in your arm.

We gave you our love
And thought the fight was over.
The demons appeared dead;
You were happy and sober.

I remember the last time
I walked through your door.
I wondered why you
Were sprawled on the floor.

I yelled to you,
Something stupid and fun.
Then I saw your fingers
Clutching the end of the gun.

So if Heaven doesn't grant asylum
The way we know it should.
Come back and talk to me.
I know plenty of people who would.
Richard Betts




Sometimes the world appears to me
That it is on the verge of falling apart.
And when I am about to lose my faith,
You restore my foolish heart.

When the angry heavens punish me
For my previous transgressions,
And turn a deaf ear
To my apologetic confessions,

I seek and find absolution
In the love that we have made.
Through your faith and forgiveness
The grime on my soul is cleansed away.

When the world's horrors
Haunt my sleep and awaken me,
You never fail to comfort
Or think of forsaking me.

And from the shadows,
Where the darkness shrouds my weeping,
I notice you resemble an angel
As you lie there softly sleeping.
Richard Betts
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Poems By Poet Richard Betts