Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Poetry, Writing


After the storm,
He was surrounded
By empty space
And silence.

There had never
Been a roof over
His hide except
For a canopy
Of trees.

That was gone now,
And the earth was
A mess of scorched
Soil and rock.

Of her, there was
No trace,
Not an echo of
All the years she
Had shared with him.

In the twilight of
The full day, the seas
Higher than towers,
He mourned.

R 30/04/2023 11:32

A nice day. Another day of doing what my mind perceives of as nothing. But this is what my mind has needed right now, even though I should really be plugging Aggie to all and sundry – it’s finally out tomorrow. Today’s nothing meant walking into Norwich with M to wander round an overpriced vintage sale, and then to do lots of charity shop browsing and shopping (which was vastly more satisfying and productive), and buying some huge scoops of pistachio icecream to eat on a bench opposite the ancient church the vintage fair was in, surrounded by the aged remnants of the old Norwich, and then walk home again (via more charity shops). So lovely to have time, just M and I together, for once; such a blessing in so many ways.

If time is to be had tomorrow, I will post a link, in the Books section of this venerable organ, to hand-signed copies of Aggie, the stock for which I am expecting this coming week.

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