Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry


My shoulders take the entire weight
Of my healing rest as I sprawl on
The bed to ease the stiffness in the
Crook of my back, electric current
Manipulating the malfunctioning
Muscles and bones. The hyena of
Pain stalks me through this hottest
Day of the year, and I try to find new
Hiding places in the desert and fail.

Cool air inside.
The hum of machine.
So far from nature.
The human disconnect.
We need to be animals again.
In the wild.

R 10/06/2023 14:20


Timid cat, night prowler,
Mistaken for a dog, nose close
To the ground and scent,
Citizen of the shadows,
Silent scavenger, ochre feline,
Striped and sniggering in
Muffled corners.

Afraid. Hated. Fossilised.
Hungry. Wire for fur.
Vilified. Vampire.
Primeval survivor.
Neglected feaster.

Desert comber.

R 10/06/2023 14:42

A day of frustrations.

Woke at 07:30. Thought about getting up. Fell asleep thinking about getting up, and didn’t wake up till gone 9. The way my brain works, that’s the day gone. Worked for a bit (scanning documents and stuff). Connected myself to the TENS machine for 40 minutes to try to get my damn back fully operational more quickly, during which time I wrote those poems. Then walked down to Sprowston Cricket Club with new running shoes on and watched 30 minutes of cricket – God, I do miss it, bits of it anyway. M had the great ideo of using the outdoor pizza oven for pizzas tonight. That’s a highlight. Then tried to get Madge to start -still no luck; another frustration. I wish I were practical. And now pondering some other things, and the day’s gone. But it’s been a gloriously warm day. That is a major something.

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