Lost in the Garden of Remembrance

Good poetry evokes feelings far beyond the literal meaning of the words used, and Lost in the Garden of Remembrance, Richard Kydd’s collection of poems, triggers a wide range of heartfelt emotions.

Kydd deals with the whole spectrum of human experience. He is metaphysically questioning, as in "Holding On." Poems such as "I Witness Blues: It’s 10 p.m. – Do You Know Where Your Brain is?" are keen social observations and commentary. He also describes the beauty of nature, as in "Feast of Indian Summer."

Love is a constant theme. Poems such as "My Dear Friend," and "Inside of You," explore both the physical and spiritual elements of this basic human emotion.

A strong thread of spirituality runs throughout the book. "Looking in, Looking Out," and "In His Praise" are among the poems that explore man’s relationship with God.

But the primary experience that inspired Kydd to write this book was the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and poems dealing with the tragedy dominate the contents. In "September Morning," "Sacred Dust," and many others, Kydd expresses the fear, terror, and anguish experienced by the victims and survivors. Yet in the end, Kydd asks that we heal and grow, not sink into hatred and revenge.

Richard D. Kydd Jr.was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Through the cultural diversity of his youth he came to appreciate the beauty of the spoken word. Although he had an early love of poetry, it was only later in his life he began to write. He currently resides in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, with his wife Erna and his children.

Upon a sad September morning in 2001, Kydd began writing this book. It is dedicated to the loving memory of his father Richard and his mother Frances. Kydd has also dedicated this work to the memory and love of all those beautiful spirits who perished at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. His hope and prayer is that somehow, through the remembrance of our love, Peace in time will one day come to our hearts.

September 11, 2001
(In Loving Memory)

Though our mortal, crying eyes bleed in remembrance with tears,
Our hearts remain forever flowing in light,
In the memory of our undying love and eternal dream.

A Place of Life

Broken, strewn rubble where life used to be,

The scepter of destruction is all you can see.

Shattered pieces of who we were on that tragic September day,

When the evil heart of hatred came our way.

Broken computers, family pictures, desks, chairs and charred paper abound,

Yet, through the concrete and twisted steel, no life made a sound.

A memo of a birthday present to buy,

An e-mail message sent by a guy,

Material objects – remolded forms unknown to the eye cover the devastated ground,

Yet all would have gladly been sacrificed if only life could have been found.

A land now of spirits that calls out to each and every one of us,

"Here in shallow graves we lie beneath the steel, concrete, ashes and dust."

In Castles Dark

The Queen regally entered the grand ballroom as all did humbly look.

She gracefully and elegantly sat on her throne as a gaze around the room she took.

All eyes were fastened on her beauty and charm and held in spellbound awe,

For her radiance and royal countenance were things most commoners never saw.

Ladies in waiting curtsied giggling, while the men of the court bowed on their knees.

Her Majesty could wave her hand or leave them as statues, if she pleased.

With a nod she gave, everyone rose. The musicians began to play

The minuet. Laughter roared out in a most exhilarating way.

The Queen smiled somewhat to see the merriment before her eye.

She suddenly became quite anguished and troubled and gave a gentle sigh.

Her Lord Chamberlain was approaching with a knight as handsome as could be.

She tried to smile and look on his face, but the image she just couldn’t see.

All of a sudden, some unseen force grabbed her, and she awoke in disjointed fear.

"Hey, hey, bag lady, wake up, wake up!

Didn’t I tell you there’s no sleeping here?"