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Richard Lloyd Cederberg

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Member Since: May, 2006

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Books
· A NEW RACE OF HuMANS

· Between the Cracks

· A Monumental Journey - first edition cover

· Beyond Understanding

· The Underground River

· In Search of the First Tribe

· A Monumental Journey - 3rd Edition


Short Stories
· Rejected (a curse or a blessing)

· The Visions of Saoirse Gilbride....

· An Irresistible Transformation...

· Surfing on Silent Skies...

· Doorway...

· The Strange Case of Kicky Cano...

· A Matter of Perspective 2...

· A Surprising Discovery....

· 10 North Waverly Place...

· Old Friendships (not forgotten)


Articles
· Thanks Giving...

· Kennedy and Lincoln...

· The Art of Poetic Prose...

· What Makes a Poet Authentic...

· Paul Harvey’s ‘If I Were The Devil’ transcript- 1965

· Direct Characterization

· Aphorisms (a collection)

· Hey Cortana...(2019)

· Origin, or Destiny?

· Stream of Consciousness


Poetry
· When the Heart is Flawed...

· Catching Happiness...

· The Fragments of Hatred...

· 'Malama Ka Aina'...

· On Open Wings...

· Generations....

· Dewdrops....

· A Gradual Decline…

· Like Wildflowers and Weeds…

· In Nature’s Design…

         More poetry...

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Staying True to Your Calling (acrostic)

by Richard Lloyd Cederberg — Read all 280 poems by Richard Lloyd Cederberg

Last August, 2018, in our grueling preparations to move to a new home - packing-up, sorting through old stuff, and deciding what to sell, keep, or give away - I found a box under the house. In it were hundreds of long-forgotten poems and songs from my teens and twenties. Needless to say; the memories were vivid. This piece was first written in 1987. Re-written 4-2019. It was a real challenge for a four-eyed musical nerd to stay true to his calling in a new school.

Saturday, May 18, 2019


Poem Artwork
Should I’ve become what they wanted me to be?
Teetering on the edge of resentment and uncertainty,
Always inventing reasons to defend my itchy insecurities,
Yammering about this and that, to try and overcloud what
I really wanted to ram in the face of those disparagers
Nodding their heads scornfully at the
Gifted newbie from another district… zealous I was, but
.
Thank God I never fit into their scheming social cliques;
Rotter’s strutting hip styles and hairdos, and the (at times)
Usurious fistfights, and the oddly isolated hipsters doping;
Even when they could get arrested, and expelled from school…
.
Thank God I found myself wholly ostracized, and floating
On the fringe of this folly so I could foster my true calling…
.
Yes … it was a time of self-awareness and discipline when
Only wisdom, and horn-rimmed glasses, could save me from the
Ubiquitous social-butterflies, and muscly lettermen floating from
Room to gym to track to room at a combative Kearny High School…
.
Considering how ignorant I was back then (of worldly things),
And how naïve I was of the saucier aspects of dating cheerleaders,
Love still found a place in my life (briefly) with sweet Deanna. Yes, her
Loveliness embraced my heart and senses with the kind of triumphantly
Inebriating pleasantness that left me potty, and unable to accomplish the
Normal daily tasks that a first-chair-trumpeter/poet wannabe deemed
Gratifying, in a gawky teenager sort of way.
.
richard lloyd cederberg
1987/2019
      Between the Cracks



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Reviewed on May 20, 2019
Something that neither I or any of my kids would do is to try to fit ourselves into certain groups of people when we were kids. Thank God, my children aren't followers! We don't need others to validate our existence. I'm so glad you weren't trying to fit in to others as well. Sometimes, just being ourselves is all we need to be in life.

Great poem! This has brought back some memories for me as well.

Sandie

Reviewed by m j hollingshead
Reviewed on May 19, 2019

glad you found your poems and are sharing them now with the world!

more please


Never Stop Writing


m

Reviewed by John Herlihy
Reviewed on May 19, 2019
I give you a lot of credit for even attempting to write poetry back at that early age. I only start writing poetry about six years ago. It's amazing what we can accomplish, particularly as you have done at a young age, when we put our minds to it. Excellent.

Reviewed by Mystic Rose
Reviewed on May 18, 2019
Hi Richard. What I've noticed about growing old is that the past becomes sharper and we relive those luminous moments with hearts wide open and ready to embrace that child that we once were. You are so much more today, for all that you refused to follow. I for one am enriched every time you share a bit of your life. I get to know you better every day. Thank you for sharing that box , I think you should post some of the poems you found in there, I'd love to read more. Have a great evening, and thank you for always being such a great supporter of my poetry. Hugs.

Reviewed by Ed Matlack
Reviewed on May 18, 2019
What memories this high school "eulogy" creates, mostly negative on my part I'm afraid, but I do remember the cliques, the groups I had no part of though I guess I wanted to but was too afraid to attempt.
Definitely not then smart enough to be with the smarties and not a social butterfly enough to be with most others, I snuck through high school on a wing and a prayer, counting the days before senior graduation. And now I look forward to reading more of your 1987 stock of poems...find Peace, my friend...-e-

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on May 18, 2019
A very revealing poem from your high school days and how you felt about what was going on around you. That's when you develop your style and your independent nature. It shows.

During the educational psychology class I took preparing for my doctorate, I did a study of my high school and all of its cliques. Like gangs, they seem to be there to provide protection for those who felt they couldn't exist without having a tight social group around them.

Having arrived at that smaller hick town after being in a much more cosmopolitan larger city for my grade school, I never really fit into any of those cliques because I didn't need to, intelligent enough to go it on my own, like getting four letters in high school without being a jock. And befriending students from almost all of the cliques as part of my broad social circle. Still, until my senior year, I struck out with the women largely because of my small and immature stature. So I wrote poems about my almost nonexistent relationships. Never save any of those poems. Lost forever.

Ron


New Poetry by Richard Lloyd Cederberg
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