128/2023
Some days, writing seems futile, Putting seldom-read words onto Paper, unheard voices and unseen Stories ignored by those who most Need them. Where are those who Want to know the… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
Some days, writing seems futile, Putting seldom-read words onto Paper, unheard voices and unseen Stories ignored by those who most Need them. Where are those who Want to know the… Continue Reading
He keeps himself self-contained, Even with that wide smile when He’s working the bar or the tables, And stays inscrutable to anyone Watching the flash of his fast hands, His… Continue Reading
Endless days of doing nothing. The cage is not a cage when you have the key. The token effort to make it look like the people are the priority. And… Continue Reading
We must have passed eachother In the middle, at some point in The century of our friendship, me And him, he from the left to the Right of centre, me… Continue Reading
when it comes it takes him by surprise the smooth ride it was supposed to be in the golden carriage unopposed by the little people whose taxes he considers his… Continue Reading
At the beginning, it fizzed in the corner Of the room for an hour a day at most, Seldom used, never listened to, a slave To necessity, a pain, a… Continue Reading
May Day. When bosses add another day’s rest To their busy calendar of holidays, To let the workers strive for Electricity or food, Heat or sustenance, In the hostile climate… Continue Reading
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,… Continue Reading
Her squint essential to his love. Without that imperfection she Would no longer have been beautiful To him, no longer the person he First glimpsed across the counter When he… Continue Reading
bind it tight that loose bag of flesh and bones before it escapes from the bed you made for it and it runs from your over-affectionate lust such a rigid… Continue Reading