Dick Davis

(1945 / Portsmouth)

Dick Davis Poems

1. Edgar (i.m. Edgar Bowers, 1924 - 2000) 11/11/2016
2. Getting Away 11/11/2016
3. A Photograph of Two Brothers 11/11/2016
4. Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son 11/11/2016
5. Your Children Growing 11/11/2016
6. [I lay down in the darkness of my soul...] 11/11/2016
7. [The heart has its abandoned mines...] 11/11/2016
8. Flight 11/11/2016
9. Water 11/11/2016
10. Ibn Battuta 11/11/2016
11. The Jigsaw 1/3/2003
12. Memories Of Cochin 1/3/2003
13. Touring A Past 1/3/2003
14. Desert Stop At Noon 1/3/2003
15. Baucis And Philemon 1/3/2003
16. Shadows 1/3/2003
17. Iran Twenty Years Ago 1/3/2003
18. Guides For The Soul 1/3/2003
19. Uxor Vivamus 1/3/2003
20. Aubade 1/3/2003
21. A Translator's Nightmare 1/3/2003
22. A Monorhyme For The Shower 1/3/2003

Comments about Dick Davis

  • Saman Beheshti (8/21/2018 8:33:00 AM)

    is the most amazing scholar and poet. I still can over how he was able to read, understand, and translate the Shahnameh of Ferdowsi. My husband and I are reading it together, discussing it as me ago along while in awe of this masterfully translation. Thank you

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  • Reema Reji Reema Reji (1/24/2018 12:34:00 PM)

    Hey Dick,

    Pls add me as a friend.

    Thank you.

    Your poems are good.

    I've only just started PoemHunter.

    I am a newbie..

    Reema x

  • Reema Reji Reema Reji (1/24/2018 12:33:00 PM)

    Amazing Dick!
    Congrats on your poems!
    They're fab!

    Pls add me as a friend.

    Reema xxx

Best Poem of Dick Davis

A Monorhyme For The Shower

Lifting her arms to soap her hair
Her pretty breasts respond – and there
The movement of that buoyant pair
Is like a spell to make me swear
Twenty odd years have turned to air;
Now she’s the girl I didn’t dare
Approach, ask out, much less declare
My love to, mired in young despair.

Childbearing, rows, domestic care –
All the prosaic wear and tear
That constitute the life we share –
Slip from her beautiful and bare
Bright body as, made half aware
Of my quick, surreptitious stare,
She wrings the water from her hair
And turning smiles to see me ...

Read the full of A Monorhyme For The Shower

Iran Twenty Years Ago

Each summer, working there, I’d set off for
The fabled cities – Esfahan, Kashan,
Or Ecbatana, where Hephaestion died,
The poets’ towns – Shiraz and Nayshapour,
Or sites now hardly more than villages
Lapped by the desert, Na’in or Ardestan . . .

Their names now mean a dusty backstreet somewhere
Empty and silent in the vivid sunlight,

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