About Richard

Comic book lover, poet, Captain Britain fan and all round good egg. Writer of the Beer Froth book of poetry

Diverse Verse 2 cover reveal


So Diverse Verse 2 the poetry collection for charity I’ve been working on is now out and available to buy.

It will firstly be available at Southcart Books from today onwards towards the official launch this Saturday,then online for everyone who can’t make it to the shop.

Pictures taken by Scott Carter.

Thin Ice


“Be careful where you tread,” she said,
“Steer clear of the thin ice.
“Make your steps light, ” she begged,
“So you make it safely to my side tonight.”

So I set out so very cautiously,
But it was terribly cold night.
I forgot to step carefully,
Then I trod on the thin ice.

The freezing water tightly seized me,
I was helpless in its icy grip.
Down I was dragged as my
Last breath from my lungs was ripped.

As I floundered I felt my body stiffen,
My heart slowed then began to freeze.
Trapped in the watery prison,
My life ebbed away from me.

So now I float stuck between life and death,
Blue lips stuck in a silent scream.
Black fingernails scrape the ice
Frost crystals crack in my bloodstream.

And if through the ice I see you pass by,
I’ll bring you back to me tonight.
The last thing you’ll feel are my fingers grasping you,
Then pulling you to me through the thin ice.

Another poem inspired by the current run of Dr Who, here’s a link to my other who poems
Smile
The Girl with a Star in her Eye

Poetry is a lot like IBS…


You think something is coming but after a lot of effort you’re often left with nothing.

Wearing Out


I lay on the couch, “does this hurt?” The Doc said,
As with a grip of steel he twisted my leg.
The pain coursing through me made me bellow,
“Of course if hurts, you impudent fellow.”

“You’ve got arthritis,” the Doctor clinically said,
“It’s on the screen in black and white, hips and leg.”
In the short time that it took him to tell me
I felt myself age quite considerably.

Now my hips are my internal metronome,
Each time they tick reminds me I’m old.
Each tock they make’s a clear reminder to me
That I’m not the young man I want to be.

 

Smile


What if you just really didn’t want to smile?
What if for you happiness felt like a trial?
What if you don’t want to wear your heart on your sleeve?
What if you don’t want you emotions displayed for all to see?
Would you instead try to always fake it?
Hide behind a smile that makes your face ache.
Let people see you as the life and soul,
But you’re worried that if the truth is told,
That if you reveal your real state
That if you reveal you feel life isn’t great
People and friends will judge you
Forcing out what you are going through.
So everyday you choose to hide
What’s burning you up inside.
Everyday you put on your smiling mask
Hoping what’s behind it no one will ask.

Another poem inspired by Dr Who, the time the episode “Smile,” where to give away that you were feeling sad might lead to your death. A world where you must smile despite all that is going on around you can resonate.

Here’s a link to my poem based on the Dr Who Episode “The Pilot”

Passing Blood


I awoke this morning with a terrible pain in my head,
“Perhaps it’s a tumor?” My wife helpfully said.
“No, ” I replied, ” I’m fairly certain it’s a poem,
But that’s funny, as they’re more like passing a kidney stone.”

Curse your sudden but inevitable turn to poetry


When a poet first steps up onto a stage,
Their mind is screaming that they’re a fake.
And that now on this stage their time has come,
To be uncovered by everyone.

So I wear a disguise so I look the part,
I’ve got tattoos on both my arms.
I sprouted a hipsterish beard on my chin,
Now I can’t be found out, where to begin?

You see I get tongue-tied if I wax political,
Embarrassed if I try to be satirical.
So I thought hard on what lines my rhymes should take,
What could I with words create?

So I just wrote down all the crap in my head,
All the stuff that keeps me awake in bed.
All the stuff that is commonplace to me,
I wanted to capture in poetry.

But I found all that anger hard to maintain,
Everywhere I go I don’t want to bring pain.
So when I stand up before you good people here,
I want to try to spread a bit of cheer.

So I started to write poetry on simpler things,
Beer,cake,pork scratchings.
Poems about binge watching TV,
These I found were the words for me.

So that’s my poetical manifesto,
Here I stand giving it a go.
This is what I’ve decided to try,
But remember, I’m a poet, we always lie.

Diverse Verse 2 is ready for launch


Late last year I launched a call for poets for a poetry anthology for charity entitled “Diverse Verse 2.” I’m pleased to say the book is at the printers and we have a launch date.

On the 27th May as part of Southcart Book’s open mic “Diverse Verse 2” will be launched. The official Facebook event is here if you are interested, it should be a great day with lots of superb poets reading and hopefully I’ll sell a few books for charity.

Origami Swan on the X51


Down where the wet newspapers flop,
all wrinkled like damp skin.

Among the crushed drink cans,
trundling like drunken tortoises.

In the one place angels fear to tread
but where the rest of us place our souls,

Cresting a wave of slopped beer,
bobs a delicately folded swan.

I don’t know whose skilled digits
took the rough paper of their bus ticket,

then sharply folded it
before releasing it into the wild.

All can I do is watch as the beery sea swells,
then wave the swan off on its voyage.

Continuing on my own journey,
still weary and tired but now with a smile.

 

I really did see an origami swan on the bus, the proof is above in the photo I took on my phone, obviously being a poet I just couldn’t let the moment pass without committing it to paper.

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Embracing on an Autumn Day – Reprise


Hold me tight as the wind blows,
As the leaves gather round our feet.
So you’ll think of me next Autumn,
When you’re walking down this street.

Hold me close as the clouds gather,
And raindrops begin to land.
So you’ll remember me next Autumn,
When you hold another’s hand.

Then let me go as the sky darkens,
Free me like an Autumn leaf.
No longer attached too what I loved,
Our time together sadly too brief.

I’m reprinting this poem not because it feels like Autumn here in the UK at the moment but because I’m proud to say I heard this week it’s taken first prize in a local poetry contest. The Friends of Merrions Wood chose this poem as a winner in their seasonal poetry contest and it should be in their next news letter, considering I used to play in that very wood when I was young I’m proud to have won,.