Two Poems by Rick Hartwell

Traveling On

 

Roads to somewhere,

roads to anywhere,

            roads to nowhere,

                        roads to yester-where,

 

When trips were joys,

not tribulations, and

            destinations were

                        after-thoughts, and

 

Only the pursuit of the journey mattered.

Playing Hopscotch

 

Time to hopscotch once again,

throw the lagger of ideas ahead,

centered, to be retrieved with ease.

 

At times the toss is canted,

present problems in the way,

skewed to left or right.

 

I leap over them, spin,

jump adroitly to one side.

 

Most times I come down firmly,

planting both feet wide, knowing

I can take a moment to decide

where next to spring,

or take a needed rest.

 

Other times my intellect lands

precariously, unbalanced, a

single point without support.

 

Then again I jump for sanity,

reverse direction, deeply breathe,

pick up the lagger,

return along the path.

 

I pause, throw it out ahead, begin

anew a game of jumps and joy.

 

 

 

Rick Hartwell is a retired middle school (remember, the hormonally-challenged?) English teacher living in Moreno Valley, California. He believes in the succinct, that the small becomes large; and, like the Transcendentalists and William Blake, that the instant contains eternity. Given his “druthers,” if he’s not writing, Rick would rather still be tailing plywood in a mill in Oregon.