Tonight I was humbled

Tonight I was humbled.
By a two year old and her eager intensity,
She was going to get a sleigh bike ride.

Tonight I was amazed.
By a speeding middle aged man
Biking and talking on a cell phone.

Tonight I was pleased.
The gentle pattering of two elderly ladies,
Does their conversations drift back to Laos?

Tonight I was eased.
The solitude of old man on a bucket
Sitting on a pier with a sparkling lake.

Tonight I was pushed
The breeze picked up my pace
Only to remind me of it’s power later.

Tonight I was amused.
Telling a runner to slow down
And sheer joy swept across her face.

Tonight I was humbled.
I come looking for passionate inspiration
And Lake Winona replenished with grace.


By Dave Schipper © 2010 Rose Riversongs

It is finished

It is Finished

Every night I wait for a text
And I cling to every word
Replies that leave me so perplex
Just feeling like a nerd

Then there is a glimpse of hope
A new life again after death
Only to find a new tight rope
We have drawn our last breath

It is finished, we are through
I beg forgiveness to the Lord
For you know not what you do
In the guise of loving true

Today I found my Damascus path
And my eyes were suddenly clear
Words you said too gift wrapped
I see there were just chevalier

Today I see I was on your strings
Trained to stay somewhere near
So say goodbye to your plaything
You’ve lost a treasure dear

It is finished, we are through
I beg forgiveness to the Lord
For you know not what you do
In the guise of loving true

By Dave Schipper © 2010 Rose Riversongs

Read the story behind this here

In between lines and life...

In between the lines
Embedded in the pixels
Are unspoken words of love

There will come a time
When digital becomes flesh
Words will shine light from above

It will hold surprise
Secret pleasure and of course
Disappointments of some kind

Yes this is real life
But no excuse to stop you
For you will touch flesh so fine.

So you’re impatient?
There’s no instant message here
And life won’t turn on a dime.

Learn to be content
Write a line to remember
And don’t forget it should rhyme

At least this time.

By Dave Schipper © 2010 Rose Riversongs

Confession of a true romantic

It is with dread I tell my story; my confession.
As I open myself to the honesty of consequences.
Addicted, I must avoid the public places of life
Anytime I sit in the open, it’s mere moments
And I’m lost in romance of another stranger.

These novelettes are one sided but each unique.
The cotton print of the blushing brunette
The piercing eyes of the gray hair beauty
The pug braid accentuating her long neck
And I’m lost in the unfolding love and danger.

The vulnerability is my haunting pleasure
These souls don’t realize their power over me
I’d be on bended knee in a flash if they knew.
A mere sentence or two would pierce a shy armor
Bleeding passion profusely, a life changer.

Though no one is hurt, scar tissue is growing.
Not that this play has no acts or scenes set,
It’s just that the reality of a few minutes
Is dwarfed by the epic played out in my head.
I’m just lost again in romance and I linger.

But drag me through the gutter; I do go on.
And I must admit my saviors are the angels.
I must only be attracted to the true golden ones.
They see this halo of a ring I wear proudly
And treat me as some else’s gift and tender.

Well a leopard can’t change his spots, nor I.
I am blanketed in love from a special woman.
One who knows me for the gypsy lover within
So my heart will skip a beat for sparkling eyes
And I’ll be lost in romance with another stranger.

But I sleep at peace with my true love
With a smile on my face.

(c) by Dave Schipper 2010 Rose Riversongs

Landmarks

There are landmarks in the distance
Places between you and me
A bar, a café, and old willow tree

There are no measurements to make
Just markers of faces and places
Some a casual observer just might miss.

Old culprit fate will change something
A new building a new waitress
And that will cause a little stress

Old faith in the natural laws will win
And new landmarks will form
There in the mist of chaos, the norm.

By Dave Schipper © 2010 Rose Riversongs