Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry, Politics


There is nothing left of the ship
After the storm. Masts and sails
Gone, everything above deck
Disappeared by the typhoon,
The sides shattered, the corpse
Of the vessel overturned and
Floating between the huge
Ups and downs of the restless
Swell, those interminable seas.
Only the keel remains intact
A dorsal fin hiding in the
Dark troughs and valleys
Waiting for its particular
Prey. The sky touches the
Water, and it explodes
In renewed fury.

R 31/03/2023 19:10

I’ll be glad to see the back of March. Got soaked to the skin walking down to the doctor’s surgery, so stood by a radiator (on low heat, unsurprisingly) in the waiting room trying to dry myself off (it didn’t work). Doc gave me lots of time, which, bearing in mind what pressure the NHS is under, was graceful and kind. Palpated my stomach (that’s pushed down on it to us lay people) and told me it was nice and soft. Taught me a couple of lessons, too, which is that stomach pain usually only becomes noticeable when the stomach starts touching the inside of the body, and that painful testes are a sign of stomach trouble because they are connected (and that’s not TMI; it’s just facts). Anyway, bottom line (no pun intended) is that all the current problems are stress induced (unless they’re still there in a couple of weeks).

Anyway – the other bottom line is that the Tories are trying to destroy the NHS, but the NHS keeps fighting back. Support your NHS. Please. Local elections soon. That’s the beginning of their end, I hope.

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