Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Poetry, Politics, Sport


I tell myself there’s something derelict
About the 62-year-old me going to watch
A team I don’t reall support and yelling
Myself hoarse at their win, and getting
Home late to babble like a 15-year-old
To the somnabulent family a touch tired
Of the old man reliving his youth or
Trying to be young. The next morning
I feel something bordering on buyer’s
Remorse. I always do. But I’ll go again,
Shout again, babble again, live again.

R 15/02/2023 13:44

There is no old England to mourn,
No warm beer and cricket idyll to
Hanker back to. Ever since this #derelict
Notion of England for the English
Took hold, there have been factions
On the extreme right and left shouting
Down those on the left who love
Peace and multiculturalism of the
Best kind, that honour the truth of
There being no single nationality
In this nation of many colours,
Creeds, mothers, fathers, children.
There never has been an England. Thank God.

R 15/02/2023 21:10

Today’s #MastoPrompt was #derelict.

As you can tell, I was highly emotional about being at the game last night. I have rediscovered a youthful pleasure, and it makes me inordinately happy. Now I just need to stop the hypercritical part of my mind from spoiling it for me. And I will.

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