Mariecor Ruediger

“My compass and guiding star:MyDaddy, that's who you are.Discipline I learned from you,With patience in all I do.Sang-froid you gifted to me,Along with versatility.You reveal the profound beautyFound in Family Duty.You've instilled me with toughness,To overcome any roughness.Thanks to you I conquer worlds;I strive to be MyDaddy's girl.”

“.....I'm certain I asked for a cowboy one December past--For I wanted the excitement of pioneers to last;I ached to sing with a fiddle, speak with a drawl and twang;I surely requested John Wayne to be part of my gang.Of course I dreamed of a cowboy in those Yuletides of yore--For I wanted that ace, that corral fighter, that scout roar;I ached for the authentic frontier hero of the West;I surely requested the sacred battleground's finest.I did pray Santa'd give me a cowboy some time ago--For I wanted a legend in denim wrangler for beau;I ached to be rounded up safely by my saddled knight;I surely requested I be prospected, mined, settled right...-----excerpted from the poem 'A Cowboy For Christmas' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY, by Mariecor Ruediger”

“There'll be the lightning bugs with their Morse code display,And shooting stars and constellations to befriend;The dragonflies will keep us from going astray,As we search for new adventures 'round every bend.-excerpted from the poem 'The Huge Playroom that is Nature' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY”

“Beacon, beacon, lonesome on a hill—Waves run aground, pound ‘round, what a thrill!Water water everywhere crashes,Shore’s not lazy for it mashes, bashes…..Summer’s when tourists traipse o’er to see you,Offering to wipe-wash your dust and mildew;Summer painters place you with dinghy and gull,Historians have you as subject o’er which to mull.When feline Fog drifts gently or is heavy, Your bright light’s followed by boat bevy;And during those calm, clear days and nightsYou’re that upright nautical dream exciting tiny tykes.”

“He ambled towards the abyss again,Acquiescing to the adroit turns of his Abtenauer, his Altai horse, his Appaloosa,His Ardennais, and his Australian Brumby…..Agilely each equine adumbrates the aestheticsOf aestivating, much like aficionados of natureAnd much like ailurophiles, too……Ambrosial aromas attract his attention to theAssemblage of amaranth foliage growingAt the abyss’s edge. “Anglophile!” “Antediluvian!”“Aplomb!” “Apocryphal!” “Apophenia!” “Apothecary!”Each petal calls out to him as he captures their vision in hisAqueous humor. Now an arabesque they display, Then some archipelago formation, as they (those purple perennials)Give in to the Wind’s whimsy. “What’s in my arsenal?” He asks himself.“Do I have Authenticity, like Astrophysics and Astronomy?”“Am I at last in my Autumn, torn asunder by Avarice?Shall I now step toward Winter to wither and waste away, without rebirth?”The Summer’s azure skies call him back, reminding him of his herd.Homeward he must turn. The pony pushes him back to the plain.And, as he trudges away from the abyss, the warriors of darkness—His old battle buddies who left him behind as they raced toward Providence—Rattle in his mind with their Paleolithic war toys, on the war path, chanting:“The greatest battles we face are in the silent chambers of our own souls…..”-----from the poem 'Summer Battle' in the book HOT STUFF: CELEBRATING SUMMER'S SIMMER AND SIZZLE, by Mariecor Ruediger”

“Mystique saturates, gluts the air,Adventure’s even more than rare,Excitement’s everywhere to share,And Novelty’s beyond compare.”