To my readers, Riley is one of our grandsons.  Riley is the son of James, our son and his wife Robbie.  Riley is a creative child and at the age of five had created the persona of Mr. Squidstone, a monocled, top hat wearing, handle bar mustached upper lip, cane bearing, villain of a man.  Recently I received an email picture of the same sweet grandson bearing a beard and mustache appearing as his own.  I bestowed upon him the handle of Leprechaun Riley O’Brien.  Then, I thought what happens if the two personas should meet?  Thus, “The Story of Leprechaun Riley O’Brien.”

Riley O’Brien the Leprechaun was a funny little lad of lads indeed,

He was best of friends with a gnarly man that appeared mostly greed,

Mr. Squidstone with his top hat and eye was a tall presence to behold,

A strange friendship indeed because leprechauns are so fond of gold,

And the friend of this friendly little bearded Irishman loved the little lad,

Little Riley trusted Squidstone while others envied the friendship they had,

The mustached, one eyed fellow had many friends whose gold disappeared,

Yet steadfast in trust was the little guy nicknamed R by those he was reared,

“I’ll black your eye,” he’d yell out to those that spoke a bad word of his friend,

Many would ask if two are never seen together what message does it send,

Poor Riley O’Brien being of such sweet heart that his kisses left sugar lips,

So sweet was this little fellow that his lady friends grew large shapely hips,

All the while Mr. Squidstone with his greed manipulated a penny into a dime,

And the riches of all the land would be old Squidstone’s if given but a little time,

Now old Riley R, as his grandpa said his name, began to worry just a little bit,

Worry crossed his mind as Squidstone’s greed was a thing he couldn’t forget,

Many in the land began to wonder about this strange friendship in their land,

Another troublesome thought was why haven’t we seen the two hand in hand,

Now Leprechaun Riley O’Brien was so sweet it broke his heart to hear talk of such,

Riley knew old Squidstone well, he wasn’t greedy, he just appeared so too much,

One morning ol’ Riley woke to find Squidstone’s attire upon his face and head,

The monocle in his eye had left an imprint, no doubt Riley was he to his dread,

Squidstone agreed that day to Leprechaun O’Brien’s new rule of just one little thing,

Riley O’Brien is now past tense as is Mr Squidstone too, I am just Riley, the “King.”

The end, by Grandpa

By Pat King for R

I love that little lad.

Is a fading thought forever lost,

Did it diminish like window frost,

Return to me my thought please,

Is it lost into air like my last sneeze,

Let it return, I know it was of you,

At last the muse has returned anew,

Bring in the cello now played low,

Hear angels harps play notes in flow,

Your silken gown encapsulates your soul,

To follow the curves shown I’ll pay the toll,

Step forward then back and two right,

Close, oh so close to press you slight,

Let me waltz into the dreams I dreamed,

In your arms it’s not as bad as it seemed,

I worry, oh I worry so even when it’s right,

The distance of your mind may be slight,

Oh, it’s my fault, I have nothing left,

No longer am I as spry or am I deft,

Improvisation breaks my heart to see,

The reflecting man of war I see isn’t me,

An angel held in my arms may fly way,

So desperate is my plea that she will stay,

Don’t see me my angel but see deep within,

Once I was beautiful before war’s bloody sin,

Patti, can you see any good inside of me,

Each man took aim before his tragedy,

I’ve tried to pull you close in my dreams,

Bloods lube removes my strength it seems,

Your eyes find disgust in what I have done,

Yet you continue to say I’m number one,

A little more or a little less should I confess,

If you’ve forgiven what I’ve done is it less,

The frost covered glass is fading fast,

Does it mean once gone the dye is cast,

I’ll surround you with roses and sing to you,

Rose petals ground for oil I will do too,

Thunder has erupted inside my heart for you,

I love you so much I worry if you knew,

The sweet smell of heaven is your smell,

It is the elixir, I swear, the taste as when I fell,

Into her hands I give the gold I don’t own,

But I will give her the love she hasn’t been shown,

Listen, sweet angel, you are someone to hold,

I can’t give it to you when you are the gold.

The end,   Written December 1970

Your tender lips drew me in to imagine my lips were pressed to yours again,

Was it my heart’s desire of you or was it the soft pout of your lips that drew me in,

My eyes tracked your lip’s movement as if I was a computer trained to follow,

As I sat wrapped in deep thoughts of desire for you I felt I had become shallow,

So deep in thoughts of desirous acts I felt shame to think nasty thoughts of you,

Your beauty warrants such thoughts of desire for you but should I follow through,

If only I did I would pull you oh so very close, even closer than you were that night,

Our lips first touch would create such a spark most would think it was now daylight,

My words and thoughts have never focused on just your lips as justice may dictate,

Alas, there is no need for justice to intervene because my heart and mind can relate,

The magical pout seen is but a slight forward motion to imply she is “what its about,”

I’m the first to agree of such as it is for me that her lower lip may slightly push out,

To push out is to pout when the words combine so perhaps she will conjure a word,

Love’s motion is bringing me nearer her and I press my anxious lips to hers it is heard,

The slight moan beneath her voice is unique in its presence as only I know the sound,

It’s called a “sloan” meaning a soft low moan that she only makes when I am around,

To think that thoughts of your lips could do such, as discuss words and their creation,

One wonderful thing your beautiful red lips do for me is to bring me to a point of elation,

That you’ve been asked what color of lipstick you wear when you have none on is true,

Red rose is the color or hue for those that ask but most of all your red lips say, I love you.

The end, by Pat for my beautiful little Patti

I love you baby.

To touch the gates of heaven and linger is nothing but a passing taste,

As I realized your love is to be left on earth it is difficult to make haste,

Perhaps I passed through the heavenly gates to feel the glory of paradise,

But through a miracle of our love’s joining I could still see your tearful eyes,

The heartbreak of departure is so painful I pray that I may remain if by His will,

Before my eyes forty years of memories passed in a minute, I feel your lips still,

The lingering touch of your fingertips carried the depth of our love to my heart,

An awakening created by God that I may realize you are my most important part,

For this gift from heaven I prayed to remain that I may prove my love to you,

In but a microsecond I was delivered back to me that I may prove my love is true,

By the might of our Lord’s hand my soul returned to my shell, it’s so very true,

Desperately I prayed to Him that I may be allowed to stay and say, “I love you.”

The end

I’m peering  through the looking glass of past time in hopes that I’ll find,

The lost memories and the faded treasures still existing in my mind,

In my every thought I hold your hand and make sure you’re with me,

To be rejoined with you is ecstasy even if only an hour you were free,

I must find my faded memories although they may be haze upon glass,

For laced within those remnants are gold dust that fell through the hourglass,

Gold dust may hold little value to some but I differ if it’s gold dust of you,

For yet another treasure of you I will travel my mind through and through,

My little rhymes on paper are how I keep each treasured moment of gold,

I marvel at times when the words written are so descriptive of the one I hold,

Days later I’ve seen my words to become amazed at my ability to scribe word,

Yet I’m not a wordsmith as it’s all inspired by her sweet words that I’ve heard,

“I love you,” whispered softly from her lips prior to passion’s voyage of amour,

As I pass into each dimension of eroticism gifted me by her I clamor for more,

I am but a drop in the ocean or a microsecond of time’s passage I must concede,

But at this moment I’m engorged to an extreme beyond my existence of need,

I hold a secret deep inside of which the origin is hidden far from today,

A trembling occurs inside my structure when she touches me in any way,

Sensations of weakness create an awakening that’s impossible to describe,

Her aroma blends with the magic to create an elixir that I feel a need to imbibe,

Inside my mind I’m on my own to find the fogged in treasures buried inside,

Deep meditation and time bring me to unearth a memory that long ago died,

Whispered words to her in sixty-five state, “I’m leaving but I’ll return for you,”

A golden treasure buried far away and extracted that was prophecy come true,

It’s the beginning of time as my timeline was nonexistent until I was awakened,

Through a bedroom window into a new dimension of love, to then exit shaken,

I must let all know this is the moment in time of my life birth, my existence today,

Gold prior to this was scarce however since discovery my life is gold in every way.

The end, by Pat for Patti

Good morning my beautiful angel, my mornings are brighter by you,

In the depth of pain’s darkness a light of radiance comes shining through,

The rust covering what I once was takes on a new sheen all its own,

From the radiance of your gold I elevate to silver, time together has shown,

Birds of colored feathers and hue sing beautifully in your world’s morning,

So beautiful is the sound as they seek mates with their melodic whistling,

If I was a songbird I would fly high to sing loud and announce my love for you,

A song never heard written for one angel alone, I would sing of our love so true,

A songbird I am not, but a poet I attempt to be thus I write these words,

Instead I will hold you and bask in your love as we listen to song birds,

My day has begun in wonderful form brought to me by angel’s kiss,

At day’s end the night will begin wrapped in my angel to end the day in bliss.

By Pat for Patti