Ralph Zeigler

Moscow, Idaho

Ralph has a collection of over 600 poems he has written. He has been published locally in newspapers and Anthologies. His work has appeared in National Anthologies published by Arcadia Press and The International Society of Poets. His work has been used in a book by Candi Gillis and another of hers that has been sent to the publishers.He was overseas for 2 yrs in England where he married and spent 1 year in France. His occupations included being a Carpenter, a Cabinet-maker, Millwright and a Business Agent of a Plywood local. He is the father of two lovely daughters, has five grandchildren and was recently married to a wonderful wife at 79. At 83, he continues to write and loves to share his work with others.

FORGIVENESS

No Stereo - - No T.V.
No sound of kettle set for tea
Silence --save for rustle
Of the evening paper
SILENCE Charged silence
While love hovers - helpless
In the wings
He succumbs to slumber
Quietly she covers him
With a blanket
And
A mantle of love


THE FRY COOK

Maybe the toast is a little burned
The yoke of the egg is hard
The bacon a bit over crisp
The potatoes kind of charred
The coffee so strong, t'will float and egg
And cold as winter sun
My mother's saying I recall
If its burned, its bound to be done
The sink in the kitchen can hold no more
The floor is a fright to see
But I can't complain about the cook
When the bloody cook is me

SANDPILES OF THE MIND

The fingers my senses stir
The sand piles of my mind
Thru them trickle words and thoughts
Thoughts long left behind

They clutch at bits of memory
That swiftly thru them flow
Recalling bits of happiness
Before I let them go

I am very thankful
'That God has been so kind
And willed this final blessing
The sand pile of the mind

THE EGOTIST

I seldom get around to change
The meter that I use
I never pay attention much
To other people's views
For a special thought
I'd walk a country mile
You can bet I little care
If you don't like my style
Don't tell me how to write
I write it like I see
Don't like my gate, don't swing on it
I write my verse for me