The best part about being "Poetheart" for me is the receiving of interesting e-mail when you least expect it. Poets often write and bless my day with a candid glimpse of what makes them "poets". I received the following e-mail today (02/04/00) and it made a dreary winter Friday a little bit warmer for me: "looking out the window.......snow.......27 degress.......what better way to warm up than to think of summer.......and what's the best day of summer? the 4th of July. and that smacks of patriotisim.......sooooo, in a a first for me, I wrote a patriotic ode to this great land of ours....... see, we get our inspiration from all different sources.......so, be the poet, he who sees what others dream, but, that, which we put into words so that others may sense their hearts, but we get to touch it.......r (be my guest)"
America, thy craggy bluff, surrounded by the sea
of prairies spread across the land, unfold thy majesty
concrete lanes that span like veins, that tell a tale or two
that lead us to the spires, that touch the sky so blue
countless lakes and rolling hills that paint the land so green
to foreign eyes not so blessed, does this painting stay unseen
from sunnydale to sandy beach and rivers that never end
for every corner tells a tale, on a postcard that I may send
tis many people bold of race, who honed this land we know
for countless tears and many lives, who struggled with the hoe
we as people, ,must surely know, upon us God has blessed
the supple hand of His touch, this land that is the best
mountains views, by the mile, and vistas oh so wide
we, the children, of this land, will always burst with priderights we have, to be so free, from the cradle to our grave
for those who died, on ground afar, our freedom did they save
the stars and stripes, upon the pole, that hangs up there on ropes
it signifies, all our dreams and amplifies our hopes
so let us take some time awhile, that will cause us to reflect
and be thankful as a nation, and give it's respect
no country on this planet, has no more that it can give
then this land we call America, this land in which we live.......Richard J. Amoroso
Other poetry by Richard