RichardWrites

Trust

Folk Cut, folk thrust, folk fight for a slice of life, for peace and quiet, for their health, status, safety.   And folk cut you, slice you, dice you and fry you to gain relative wealth, advantage, their own ego.   So where you might be prone to help, support and nurture, advantage is taken and you get shafted.   Trust destroyed, isolate, life’s lonely – alone against your world,

Spring Tea

Tea steam – I risk daze-distraction.  Pot-brewed, warm. Loose leaf.  Pottery pot, hand made, wood fired.  Warm in my hands.  Earthen mug.  Tactile. Warm in my throat. Warm.  In me.  My plants’re waking up.  Spring April day. My berries growing shoots, little leaves – greengage blossom, damson flowers.  My grass is long. Doesn’t matter – beetles love long grass.  Guests who’re good for the garden.  Apple buds, tufty, white –

Chip escapade

I’ve been writing bits and pieces lately, but to be honest it’s all been really negative stuff. About the environment, pollution, futlity of modern life blah…. So I’ve been trying really hard to come up with something nice, something positive – just anything but a moan! Which can be hard to do, when you’re feeling morose, as everything sounds or feels trite, saccharin or contrived. However, I’ve come up with

The Village

Thanks for taking the time to read this. I’ve not written any flash fiction for a while.  This piece is not really a story or a finished article, but is an exercise for me. I’ve tried to keep the piece interesting, with rhythm and some of my own words. You might spot a deliberate debt to Dylan Thomas.  Thank you Dylan! I hope you like this.  Let me know.  

Stand

I’ve counted my friends and I am fortunate.  Blessed by life with true relations.  In trouble, through gaps in time, over distance and under-maintained.  I’m still lucky.  To’ve known life and to experience friendship.  True friendship – beyond infatuation, beyond duty’s bond and loyalty’s clasp, beyond life-joined unity.  Upon the rocks at the true depths, the limits of human tolerance, I have been stood by.  And I am the richer

Summing Up

I guess this poem is topical.  One for our times – or, perhaps – one for a long, long time.   We have the capacity to get somuch right here on Earth, and we persist in getting so much wrong.   What is with us?   Summing Up: Look how far we’ve come.  Children educated so fast they’re not ready for work.  We are now so thoroughly modern we have

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