Saddest Rain

A most moving post by Richard Ankers.
Reblogged for your reading pleasure on RetMP with hopes you will recognize your tethers and make peace with the reveal of your waiting place. The next moment of your life may be the same or it won’t. You are exactly where you want to be, right now, in this very minute. Hugs, Ret

Richard M. Ankers - Author

A melancholy goddess, she wore the night
A gown of crows, who dipped in soundless obeisance
No moon nor stars could shine on she
No comet streak across her heart in silvered love
For lost she was amongst the midnight, brooding, always brooding
And though the dark creatures, gods, and dark faeries
Did court Our Lady of Sorrows, the one with the broken heart
Her one dream was to stand before the light of the sun
Midnight no more, but midday
But fates are tied with simplest string
The kind you cannot cut
And like so much that one desires, they’re never meant to be
So if you hear a tearful soul between the dusk and dawn
Be still and listen to those tears for they are saddest rain
And like the sombre, winter winds, they’ll never blow away

View original post

Quote Day – Wordsworth


Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

William Wordsworth

August 28, 1833: On this day, English poet William Wordsworth tried to impress his visitor, Ralph Waldo Emerson, by standing in his garden and reciting poetry. Emerson nearly burst out laughing at the sight. (


#for REticentMentalProperty. Image used with permission with credit to: MooreZart

Come Together

rmp beer pongScenes in my life cemented in memory with music include my first beer party with Come Together- Aerosmith playing behind the pop of the tab.

I was twelve. My older cousin disappeared and my head was immediately tuned in to the dark of the room, the purple corduroy pants of the guy who sat next to me and kept his hands to himself but let me pass the night examining the stereo system and bumming his Newports.

Etched into the night are faces and bodies slowly crossing, maybe dancing but more likely just having conversations the back of the room where we gave a nod to the host’s latest neon green creation.  A few hours earlier, the orange outline had been hand painted around the full wall tribute to the leaves of cannabis.  Any lack of artistry went unnoticed despite being methodically examined every time it was hit with the flash of the strobe light and then washed down with each hungry swallow known as getting this party on.

Cousin Lori also gets credit for introductions to the first toilet stall in the local restaurant where I left my cousin and her friend rejecting the ingestion of too much PBR and who knows what as I locked the door and avoided explaining to the waitress why they were taking so long in there.

Cheers to Friday nights.


If you are going to learn life’s lessons, learn them with family.  

#for reticent mental property. videos from youtube.

There It is, There She is…

RMP sculpture

She believes herself to be the rule maker.  She takes the routine and shakes it, makes it what it needs to be to sustain the learning. She practices the yoga of lovers, sculpts her calves and thighs by arching to meet his hand. So her coming of age waited a few decades, she’s still a little girl at the heart of her love-making. She doesn’t know she needs the tender, the exquisite pace of anticipation brushing softly against impatient thrusts.

Cheers to the man who lets her seize her grace,  who feeds her mind. Cheers to the honey of a lover who kisses character into a lifetime of scars.  He’s surprised at her capability to feel, to meet him where the sky meets the earth.  Three days of lovemaking translate into  mere hours. Vacations on islands? They melt into minutes.

She finds she needs the taming and timing, her urgency nurtured by a lover with practiced patience and equal intensity. The fit of their bodies is the critical mix; the pleasure of frenzied exploration nothing compared to the slow, sunlit moments where he finds her rhythms, studies her lines, traces his intentions on the inside of her thighs, and relentlessly asks for her words.

And for him, all for him, she speaks up, spills over, expounds in awe of the intensity. He’s the only witness who matters when the pitch of her voice climbs as he brings forth the woman, breathes in and gives way as her shuddering, panting, begging voice is born.  He gives her no mercy, won’t take her defenses as truths; maybe before that’s how she was- but now- she’s with him and he pushes her to whisper, then say it- Say It- then Goddamn it – Scream It- if that’s what it takes.

There she is. That’s it. Yes, there it is… she…gives.


If she cannot ask for what she thinks she deserves, she becomes even smaller than she thought she was.


# for Reticent Mental Property. Image courtesy of the web.