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Eric Ratcliffe
Eric Ratcliffe
(Aug 8,1918 / Teddington, England)
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Eric Ratcliffe poems, quotations and biography on Eric Ratcliffe poet page. Read all poems of Eric Ratcliffe and infos about Eric Ratcliffe.
educated Kingston Grammar School and Birkbeck College.
Career as bench and information scientist (list of papers is in website below) . World War 2 service London Blitz assisting removal of unexploded AA shells; and India as ammunition examiner. Discharged end of war as Warrant Officer Class 1.
Founded and edited poetry magazine Ore for 4 decades (see my website for history of Ore) . ... more »
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Eric Ratcliffe Poems
The Maiden Of The Moon's Boat
Behind these yellow leaves I see the maiden of the moon's boat,
her smile straying, her light throat bent over the path of suffering.
Inside a convent of trees she rides, the Bride of my God, ...... more »
The Green Man
In the essence between dragnet day;
in the peace betwen dwale and poplar;
in the twig and near holy things;
by Earth's deep sluices, in enormity... more »
Before The Puffin Swam
Long, long ago, before the puffin swam,
neither sun nor sail bewildered those
who, simple in their sleep, walked to a day
of golden trees and apples in the air,... more »
Escape Of The Slave Girl
A low arrow, I search the land
for her silver feet moving leaves
as she follows through spiced fields,
runs, or turns to a bird cry.... more »
Cave Love
I shall walk to the girl-cave across the marsh
of the eastern water-birds, my torchflame
riding the earth of cold cousins,
to sit and talk by spices and iron.... more »
Lady Kneeling For Holy Communion
The red heathen faint beneath her skin, she kneels;
dark as a pagan brooch the shade around.
Nightbrush, God in a myrtle tree, the wine of wonder... more »
The Passing Of The Tribe
Leaving my helmet on shale,
I will stretch my brown right hand,
taking a sword out of mist,
a cold limb from a hollow sea.... more »
All poems of Eric Ratcliffe »
The Green Man
In the essence between dragnet day;
in the peace betwen dwale and poplar;
in the twig and near holy things;
by Earth's deep sluices, in enormity
by giant carving mandibles;
designing not hollow lust in the tropics,
night bells or juices of heaven.
but sweeping music travelling the winter
to a new cradle lapped in crocus.
Knowing careful harlequin loins
stealing through blind, iron kingdoms,
and the regulated playfeet of topical ghosts
merrymaking in silver wilderness
- seeing in the shape of the fire, downwards
a dead moth army, brother to ...
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