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View From Santa Barbara

May 22, 2015

Santa Barbara, California was for many years a spiritual retreat from me and others that I had known from my surfing years in the 1960s. After high school, I attended Cal State Northridge but I always found myself drawn back to Santa Barbara. It was a place that soothed the soul.

Because of its favored position, one had the feeling that he could see the whole of California in his mind: San Francisco to the north and Los Angeles to the south. Almost every moment that I was not cracking books in Northridge found me in Santa Barbara. It was a place of spiritual and physical freedom in the early 1970s and a place that I often visited for the purpose of writing poetry. These were the Vietnam War years and I often wrote anti-war verse in the hope that my work would in some way bring an end to the madness of all wars. One dark afternoon in 1971, I was at the Santa Barbara Harbor. While looking north and then to the south, I wrote the following poem.

Earlier That Morning – Low Tide At Rincon

It is a poem from a long, long time ago…. Another from my poetry anthology, Prescriptions from the Rhyme Doctor.

View From Santa Barbara
©1971 Allen E. Rizzi

The long clock pronounces sentence;
Another day is done.
Beneath an arch, a mother’s pleading,
“Oh my God, where is my son?”
And all along the coast, the story goes.

Habits of Hobbits are striking,
Pulling down the sun.
He has no more his hopes and dreams,
Millions have reduced to none.
And all along the coast, the story goes.

The quiet time has come at last;
Another day is done.
Twilight’s eraser rubs its mark,
His thoughts, like paint, have run.
And all along the coast, the story goes.

I came to hear the sea’s sweet song;
I came to listen upon her shore.
I came in hopes of tasting wind,
But now I find they are no more.
And all along the coast, the story goes.

If you’re curious as to what a place in time can do to the soul, give this poetry anthology a read. I’m confident you will enjoy it.

Read author Allen E. Rizzi’s latest books available at

Books JPG

  1. Reblogged this on allenrizzi and commented:

    Another poem from my book.


  2. Timothy Price permalink

    I was 11 years old in 1971, riding dirt bikes and exploring old mines with Ulysses S. Grant before he murdered a couple of fellows. I ordered “Prescriptions for the Rhyme Doctor”. It will be a nice break from my studies of the rime licking primordial cow in “Gylfaginning”, stories of La Llorona, and the ethnosyntax and construction grammar of mixed language culture in north-central New Mexico.

    Liked by 1 person

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