Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter



Time to set aside the thoughts of greatness,
To cast away the dreams of acclaim, wisdom,
And knowledge, to let the mundane take me
Away from the open skies, and tie me down
In its boredom, worry and lies.

Time to run from the words in my head,
From the delusion of making a difference,
Of thinking my voice would be heard and
Heeded, to give up correcting the mis-spelled,
Stop righting the wrongs committed.

Time, there was a time, when all was clear,
The capacity for happiness endless, when
A smile was the beginning, not the end,
And purpose was selfless and kind and meek,
Breathing without effort.

Time to put down the tired pen, clear away
The crumb-filled keyboard, extinguish the screen,
Delete the files full of visions and never-to-be-got
Illusions, to settle by the fire, pull on the slippers,
Wait for the scytheman to release me.

Time, there comes a time in every man’s life,
When he has to turn and see where he’s been,
Realise that time’s wasted and gone, that
Nothing will change; bitterness the only fruit
From the withered tree.

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  1. Sandie

    21st December 2010 at 18:01

    Oh. It's beautiful. Really. I cannot say more than that right now as it resonates just too much, but it's truly lovely and thanks for sharing.

  2. richard pierce

    21st December 2010 at 18:11


    Thanks so much. It just popped into my head last night, standing outside, smoking, thinking of where I was going with life, writing, etc etc. You've made my day.


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