February
The blackbird belly-breathes in the hedge,Thicket awash with the rain and broken branchesThe storm left behindOf its clouds and whitewash. It watches the plume of its breath escape,Claws at it with… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
The blackbird belly-breathes in the hedge,Thicket awash with the rain and broken branchesThe storm left behindOf its clouds and whitewash. It watches the plume of its breath escape,Claws at it with… Continue Reading
With all the different lives you leadIt’s so difficult to get hold of you. That’s what parents do, I suppose;Chase youth until they run out of breath And grow old…. Continue Reading
I am thankful that words are immortal,That we leave something behind when we go,Some things our people can touch and read and understand. I am thankful for the too many words… Continue Reading
When I was young, I always had this visionOf me, in my old age, sitting in a cottage garden,At a rickety wooden table, wife and children by my side,And dogs… Continue Reading
I thought second time round would be easier. I was wrong. It’s like having a part of me ripped away With nothing to replace it. It’s only temporary, of… Continue Reading
Not a day seems to have passed sinceI last put pen to paper for you,For the passing of yet another year,For you growing beyond me,Past my understanding. February.It’s a month… Continue Reading
In memory of LHI. My mind is full, butMy mouth is empty.I scribble the mind onto another pageWithout speaking.I have grief on my mind,Of an unknown kind. II. The taste… Continue Reading
The moon, steeped in old blood,Sighs below the horizon, waiting,Waiting for the sun,Opposite axis,Opposite pole,Opposing light. She moves, airless,Anticipates,A rock for a heart,The warmth to melt it,To feel again. For… Continue Reading
This article was posted on an e-zine site a few months ago, and I thought the time was right to repost it here. May 1989 I work for a company… Continue Reading
fuck those words I waste on the media socialon the bullies who don’t understand fuck i could write thatinto a poem or a novelor a letter fuck black ink i… Continue Reading