George Howard (14.02.53 / Pontefract (Broken Bridge) , UK)
Biography of George Howard
I was born the son of a Yorkshire Coal Hewer, in the heart of the West Yorkshire Coal fields.
I schooled at Ferrybridge Infants, Junior and then Primary. I then moved on to Pontefract Secondary Boys School, before escaping to Castleford Technical High School.
My passion was Football [Soccer to you Yanks], I ate, slept and lived it, and it was my virtual universe. Then I met girls, and everything went swiftly down hill from there on in. [just joking! ].
While I was at school my favourite subjects were Art and Technical drawing, and I obtained top qualifications in both. This led to my Technical drawing teacher threatening to have me hung drawn and quartered, for signing up for a job with British Telecoms, as an Engineer.
Many, at times exciting, years later, I have returned to the fold so to speak, like the proverbial Prodigal son. I now find I have time to do the things I enjoy. Watercolour painting and constructing pictures, using other mediums. Writing, poetry and a novel in the pipe line. I really enjoy writing, and seeing others enjoy my work. I also like the criticism; it keeps one focused and alert! Nothing like a little mental swordsmanship, to keep one on one’s toes!
Anyway we’ll see what I can achieve, before I ‘move on’.
George Howard's Works:
Poetry from a Tangled Mind ISBN978-1-4457-3384-5
- A Castle not far
- A Chronological Mistake
- A Fragile Jewel
- A Miner Retired
- A Part Time Position
- A Perfect Form
- Before I Leave
- Days of Lemonade and Motherdie [Queen An...
- From a Fool's lips
- Fun in the City
- Highways of Time
Mates to the end
Jimmy sat on ‘his’ public bench, a smile on his face.
The sun shone down now, of the cold, no longer a trace.
The faces passed by, some taking him in, some full of scorn.
Many passing judgement, without knowing, a few torn,
Between pity and derision, none understanding, his torment and pain.
Jimmy looked around, an agitated look on his face, in strain.
Wherever was Malcolm? He was never this late.
Malcolm was his best friend, his bosom buddy, his mate.
They’d been together just yesterda