Ordinary

An ordinary morning
To pour out words for you.
You are
The rich taste of Columbian.
You are
The cool morning breeze.
You are
The twinkling distant headlights.
You are
The dampness chilling my bones.

If one is special,
It moves in an ordinary way.
You move
To the task at hand smiling.
You move
To the song’s sound slowly.
You move
Me to write these lines
You move
Me to thank God everyday.

I am just ordinary
And you are too, in a special way.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo credits : Coffee
Ordinary People

Today...

Today,
Everything reminded me of you.
The contour of the pen
The song overhead
The rain on my face.

Funny,
I’m probably not an afterthought
You are self-centered
You’re already down the road
You’re in your place.

Honestly,
My imagination created it all.
The look was innocent
The laugh was casual
The silence, just space.

At lunch
I reconcile the past events.
We’ll see other again and again
We’ll talk and freely laugh
We’ll meet face to face

And I
Will die a little more each time
When your eyes light up
When your hand touches my arm
When you turn with grace.

And leave.

Dave Schipper
© 2009 Rose Riversongs
photo credit

I die

The silence
Awoke my senses
The smell
Stirred my lust.

I am hopeless
In love
I am devoured
By her.

When I begin
I stop.
When I smile
It’s fake.

Curse the silence
I scream
Absorb the wine
I die.


note... before you get too worried, it was written as a challenge not to write in rhyme.

Forced Rhymes....

What is poetry without rhyme?
A paragraph written in lines?
Structure and no punctuation?

I live life as an exclamation.
I smile at strangers.
Chuckle at imminent danger.

Forcing rhymes some protest
But there is no litmus test.
It’s all right to write on.

I let each phrase form a bond.
So read my blog for free
No pledge drive, no annual fee.

If this makes you huff and fume,
Go buy my cd on iTunes.
If you have the time…..

© 2009 Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs

The first warm spring day.

Shattered shells scattered around
Leftover fall leaves litter the lawn
Menacing mole trails meander endlessly
The first warm spring day.

Undaunted delicate daffodils ease up
Last summers weeds now are vibrant violets
Deciduous wood is now furry with buds
Breathe the life of spring.

Garden gloves now found, get going
Flower beds to free from leaf blankets
Weeping willow branches to gather and burn
A bead of sweat, water for the soul.

Aching back and strained tendons say stop
Take a walk in the night’s dusk air
Then find solace in the blossom of pink
A glass of rose raised to the day.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Reality Slips in

"As he weaves thru the dance floor
Using moves from years gone by
They just don't know what's in store
A stud, a Clooney kind of guy

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For the booze to wear off
When reality slip in
He'll know he's up too late
And it's time to take off.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again



As she dances with her girls so dear
Not a care if some think she's gay
They just bring her the right cheer
It's not he's available today.

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For a little fun and spice
When reality slip in
She'll dance til it's too late
She hears he's not nice.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again

As they meet at the bar by chance?
No b.s. lines, they cut to the matter
Why don't they share a glass and dance
Age makes common sense sharper"

When reality slips in
You don’t need to wait
For a night so fine
When reality slip in
They’ll dance til it’s too late
And share some red wine.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dance goes on, goes on
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They did not lose again, no not again

Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs

photo credit 2, 3 photo 1 Photo 4

Stereotypes

Stereotypes are confirmed easily
An obese man at the Old Country Barfett
A fart conversation at a teen boy party
A cute thin woman at the natural food store
A curmudgeon old man who is a bore.

Stereotypes broken are harder
Catholics and Lutherans agreeing on Grace
A US President with an African face
Government spending that isn’t a hand-out
CEO’s who care a crap about ___.

I like to shatter stereotypes.
I am a conservative socialist.
I play guitar with an stiff wrist.
I eat healthy but drink cheap wine.
I’m an old fart who let’s his light shine.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs

photo credit

Our Calling

For by grace we have been saved
Not by works, no one will boast.
We are God’s fine workmanship
Baptized in the Holy Ghost
All the gifts we have been blessed with
Are to share with one and all.
Now we all should heed his will
Look inside us and see our call

As we walk our daily journey
We bring with us all our gifts
Every trait we were endowed with
From our laughter to our wit
All the things that bring us pleasure
Were put right there from the start.
Now we all must heed our calling
Learn to share right from our heart

Daily tools which make our living
Are the ones the Lord approves
From every hammer , every keyboard
Bring a passion with Christ’s love
All the things that serve the Lord
At your fingertips each day
Now we all must heed our calling
Praise the Lord, whom we adore.

David Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

Just a dream

Determined to make it right
Though love was out of sight
And the touch of real flesh,
Just a dream.



The memory of her was fresh
Like a whisper of warm breath.
But now what to do next
Only dream?

He got out his pen to write her
But just stared at the paper
The hollowness took over
His own dream.



So where could she be right now?
“I love her” he said out loud
Yet no one heard him
Just his dream.

So instead he lost himself
In work and books on self-help
Love still did exist somewhere
Just
in
a….
........Dream.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credit 1 Photo2 Photo 3

Angels are overrated...

Angels are overrated. 

Where are they when a love leaves?

Have they fended off a tease?

Yes, they have flair the dramatic,

But do they stand in the streets

Do they make a hand out complete?

I can see white in the face of blackness

Stand on walls without a harness

We are a people given freedom

But few find the map to kingdom

Spiritual high is verb.

Arms raised high can’t grasp truth.

Arms at their side have no proof.

At the heart is an old word

But does it hit home or just aloof

Does the meaning ring home as truth.

We see the heart of man and look away.

Metaphors of scenery our words sway.

Feel good, live today, peace today,

But few talk about death anyway.

Don’t look at me for answers.

I’m dust in an ancient wind,

Lost on the blue ball that spins.

What can do you but swear?

Your allegiance, your one and kind

Your love for all,, and all in your mind.

Angels

So overrated.

Photo Credit

By Dave Schipper © 2005 Rose Riversongs

and tonight for the first time.... a reading by Dave...

The Coffee Shop

Coffee Shop II by Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs

In a small café she smiled from over the counter

Life is good, and God invented the doughnut.

There was time; different place, life was simpler.

Thank goodness someone invented sprinkles and nuts.

Now she warms her hands on the black cup and waits

Until she smiles and says good morning again

The doughnut gone but I pick the crumbs on the plate

Savor the French Roast and wonder where she’s been.

It’s just stories over coffee again

A warm place where smiles begin

We get lost in the troubles of the day

But treat each other in just the right way.

This morning did she wake next to a lover or a pet?

Did she stress over a test or just fluff her hair non-stop?

Too bad I couldn’t connect this morning, but

Life is good, and God invented the coffee shop.

It’s just stories over coffee again

A warm place where smiles begin

We get lost in the troubles of the day

But treat each other in just the right way.

Now it’s time to go, I’ll release her this time.

Let her escape my psyche until I think it over.

Yes claim that a stranger inspired this strange rhyme,

But I’m sure she’s someone’s lucky lover.

It’s just stories over coffee again

A warm place where smiles begin

We get lost in the troubles of the day

But treat each other in just the right way.

Front Page of the Wall St. June 9th

...© 2005 by Dave Schipper

Printed in black and white
Words of news so concise
Be it trials or stock climbs
Turbulence seems the line

What can this reality be?
What is it that God sees?
His people lost in sin
Or asking where to begin.

Stars with their own lines
Countries with no peace signs
Agendas and denials take shape
Yet more hunger and rape

Are we fatally flawed
As the news would conclude
Or we in desperate need
Of Christ’s love indeed.

Fold up neatly the Wall St.
A life is never complete
Commit yourself to love
All as the one above.

Question?

Don’t we all grow restless?
Like waiting for Santa,
Love, jobs, hope; it’s ageless.

I am waiting also
For answers in my life
Then the questions will slow.

Ok, that’s a pipedream.
Life is a puzzlement
No hard answers to gleen.

Should I be frustrated?
Feel lost in a quagmire?
Or just be comforted.

The sun will rise and set.
Love will answer it all,
And questions? I forget.

Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs

That Voice

Photo Credit








There’s that voice inside me again.
Why does is always know where to begin?
It preys on my deepest regrets and desires
It has no tack, and doesn’t get tired.

Write, call, change, and wake up it commands.
But I’ve got this built in muffler on hand.
It keeps me sheltered from what’s right
Leaving me no guilt to party through the night.

No wonder I wary of the quiet places,
All of the sudden the voice starts having a face.
Real enough to make an ache in my heart start
Facing reality is what they say, “the hardest part.”

I will find my way to mute that voice again.
But today I can hear it loud, and I understand.
Act this way and that way, make your mother proud.
Be nice to people, and blend into the crowd.

by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs