Mark Rickerby• Show poetry

 

Steve Irwin

1962 - Too Soon

He had the heart of a lion and the faith of a child.

God's creatures lost their greatest defender today.

Seems what's true for them is true for our Steve.

We never know what we have till it's taken away.

Rest in Peace, mate.

(First line above borrowed from Change This World,

the song sung at Steve Irwin's memorial service.)

Here's a link if you'd like to hear the song

and watch the one-hour memorial. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z7drBmh-g4

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through the Christian Children's Fund. 

Her name is Caroline and she lives in Zambia. 

Is she a cutiepie or what?



You can sponsor a child by clicking here - 
ChristianChildrensFund.org

Very few of us can do anything to change the entire world,

but we can change one child's entire world

for only $25.00 a month. 

It's very little to us but a lot to her. 

What's there to think about?






I thought I'd put up a more recent photo of myself. 
It was taken at the AllPoetry.com annual party. 
I finally had the chance to meet the one person on this site
who doesn't like my writing style. 

(I know - it's hard to imagine.) 
That's him on the right. 

(Dig those crazy wolfman gloves. 

You can see the guy's wrists! 
Not a lot of attention to detail in those days, I guess.  lol)


BRAGGING SECTION

My short story

The Master's Short-Lived MMA Career

will be in an upcoming issue of

Black Belt Magazine. 

My short story

My Summer of Love

is in the October/November 2009 issue of

Whole Life Times.

(To read it, visit www.wholelifemagazine.com

and click on the virtual magazine at the

upper right corner of the home page.) 

My short story

The Journey Home 

is in the June 2006 issue of 

Inside Kung Fu magazine.

An excerpt of my poem Gratitude

can be found in the books 

Chicken Soup to Inspire the Body and Soul,

and

Chicken Soup - Older and Wiser (Our 101 Best Stories)

available at all major bookstores.

Back When I Was Your Age (poem),
The Super-Duper, Ultra-Compacted,

Rainbow-Swirl, Big-As-Your-Fist Superball (story),
and Escape to a Foreign Island (story, formerly Thanks, Sinbad)
will be in upcoming issues of Nostalgia Magazine. 
It's a great magazine for anyone with a love for or interest

in old times, (even if you weren't around yet!) 

For a subscription, visit their site at
www.nostalgiamagazine.net

Great news!  

I wrote a tribute poem for Rodney Dangerfield,

my all-time favorite comedian, who died in late 2004.  

His wife, Joan, a wonderful lady who stood by Rodney

through some very difficult times, multiple surgeries, etc.,

and made his final years immensely happier

than they otherwise might have been,

has posted the poem on his official website!  

What an honor.  

Here's the page -
http://www.rodney.com/about/news.asp

By the way,

There's a special DVD sale at the site of Rodney's

TV specials and interviews,

with a lot of never before seen footage.  

Visit Joan Dangerfield's website at  

www.jungleroses.com

(Check out the giant rainforest roses.  They're amazing!)

Last but not least, I have also written the white version

of the Oscar-winning song "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp

(Trying To Get The Money For The Rent)". 

It's called "It's extremely difficult in our modern-day

society for a pimp to acquire the necessary capital

to secure his housing accommodations."


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God Bless Our Soldiers.
www.iwo.com/heroes.htm

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A few people have complained about the photo above

and asked that I post an actual photo of myself. 

Okay, here it is -





Alright, enough joking around.  Seriously, here I am . . .





I'm sorry. 
That's very immature of me. 
I really do need to grow up one of these days. 
Sincerely this time, here I am . . .


 


Please don't ask me my age. 
I'm starting to get very sensitive about it. 
But to help you figure it out,
here's a childhood picture of me.

There is magic in storytelling. 

Maybe it's just the rush of creativity.

Maybe it's avoiding what Maya Angelou called

"the agony of bearing an untold story inside of you." 

Or maybe it's revenge against death;

stealing a little more, with each story, from his suitcase. 

As they say, when a person dies, it's as if a vast library burns

to the ground.  So the more stories we tell and record

for posterity, the more we cheat death of his victory

and achieve a kind of immortality.

or talent.  I believe in encouraging others and helping them

find the greatness within themselves,

greatness they might not have been aware of

until someone pointed it out to them.  

I believe that our inner world should be clean

because the outside world is not. 

I believe that everything we think, say and write

either adds to or detracts from our happiness

and the happiness of everyone we come into contact with,

so the most loving thing we can do for our friends

and loved ones is to strive to be happy

and emotionally consistent ourselves

so they will have one less burden in their lives -

the burden of worrying about us.   

I use my real name, not a nickname,

because I stand behind everything I say.  I

f you read my work and the debates

that sometimes occur beneath them,

you will see that I have some strong opinions. 

For example, I might joke around with liberals 

a little now and then . . .




But I also poke fun at conservative figures . . .





I mean, come on, funny is funny.

The important thing is that we talk

without wanting to kill each other.

Whether you're right or left, conservative or liberal,

Republican or Democrat, we're all Americans.  

We're not supposed to see ourselves

as two separate entities in some undeclared war.  

That's not what our forefathers wanted.  

That's not the way America is supposed to be.

So go ahead and lay into me

if you disagree with anything I write,

but do it with respect and I'll respond in kind.  

I enjoy a good debate but I don't get emotional

about anything that is said to me here, good or bad. 

I just keep on writing either way. 

Even when I'm verbally slapping around a bully

(which the Internet is teeming with because of the anonymity

and lack of accountability it provides), 

I'm laughing the entire time. 

If there's one thing I've learned from writing workshops

and sites like this, it's that everybody has their own taste. 

One person can absolutely love a piece of writing

and the next can despise it, and it's okay either way. 

To be overly flattered by compliments or crushed by

criticism is to place the opinions of others above your own,

which is like letting the waiter eat your dinner.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's when unpublished,

unknown writers (like most of us) join this site, then proceed

 to act superior, as if they are Ernie Hemingway, insulting

other writers.  This is a place to learn and grow. 

None of us are finished products. 

We're all trying to find our voice and develop our skills,

so people who act superior are incredibly annoying,

mainly because poets in general have nothing

to feel superior about. 

There are very few famous poets in the world,

especially America.  There's just no money in it. 

If you want money, make a slasher film or start a porn site. 

Most people aren't interested in the subtle nuances of language

or capturing the sublime in words. 

Poets are the bastard children of the literary world

so for them to fight is like wino's in an alley fighting over

a 50-cent bottle of ripple. 

Constructive criticism is great, but if anyone starts acting

 highbrow and putting down my work sarcastically,

I will kick him like a rented mule until his head is reduced

to a piece of tattered flesh and tooth fragments 

hanging from his collar. 

(Figuratively speaking.)
 
I enjoy being around people

who are fully human,
who feel deeply,
who display the full range of emotions

without being abusive toward others,
who aren't afraid to express themselves,
who have nothing but love for everyone around them,
who have a streak of righteous indignation,
who ache for the suffering of others

and do everything they can to ease it,
who cry when they see a stranger in pain, 
who don't have to know someone personally

to care about them,
who value the short time they have to be alive
and want to add as much light as possible
to this troubled world.

There are some poets on this site who are those kind of people. 

Their words reflect who they are perfectly. 

I can be sure when I'm reading the work

of my best friends here (and you know who you are)

that I'm seeing directly into their souls. 

Others treat writing as some kind of game,

as if it doesn't matter what they put into the universe;

as if the words they say, think and write

don't shape their lives.  But they do. 

Everything we do (everything) reverberates into the world

and either adds to the light or the darkness

outside and inside ourselves. 

So love my writing or hate it,

but know that I labor over every word,

and I have the greatest respect for poets here

who I can see do the same.

Side A is now over.
Please fast forward the tape to side B.

As bizarre as it may sound, some people on this site

have actually accused me of being a little bit overzealous

about my defense of America, the land that I love. 

Can you believe that?  I think such accusations are

totally groundless.  In fact, just to show you how down to

earth I am, here's a recent photo of myself.