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Poems By Poet Richard Betts  5/31/2016 1:02:45 PM
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  RICHARD BETTS (December 8,1964)
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I wish my old friends were truer,
And I wish I were truer to them.
Everything I know now,
I wish I knew way back then.

I've learned some friends will disappoint you,
Other times, it's you who will fail.
Some friends will move to other cities,
Others will walk the Appalachian Trail.

As time rushes by quickly,
And our memories fade and soften.
I remember those days,
And think of you often.

And if I seldom see you,
Or our paths never cross again.
I will count myself lucky
To have had you as my friend.

As days turn to years,
And years pass in a blink,
No matter what we do or who we become,
Our lives are forever linked.
Richard Betts




How did I manage to make it?
How did I somehow survive?
I look at the others who perished,
And I ask myself, 'Why? '

Why was I so fortunate?
Why not me instead of them?
I often see their faces,
A silent roll call of our dead.

Nighttime is the hardest,
For my slumber is less than kind.
And carrying around these questions,
Weighs heavily on my mind.

Sleep comes hard, but when I sleep,
I always dream in red.
And lying there in the fields,
Are the scattered bodies of my friends.

When I walk by any garden,
All the flowers seem to wilt,
As if they are being crushed
By the weight of all my guilt.
Richard Betts




It seems the more I seek,
The less I find.
The more I search,
The more you hide.

The more I question,
The less I understand.
The more I reach out,
The less I find your hand.

The more I read the writings,
The more I am bemused.
The more I hear the preaching,
The more I am confused.

The more I look for light,
The harder to find the sun.
The more I look for goodness,
The darker the skies become.

The more I look your way,
The more frightening is the violence.
The louder I scream,
The more maddening is your silence.
Richard Betts




We blindfold you,
so you know not what we do.

So you cannot see
how we distort and bludgeon the truth.

I know why Justice is blind,
And why she has no rebuke.

For if she could see
all we do and say, she would turn around...

and puke.
Richard Betts
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Poems By Poet Richard Betts