John Rickell Poems

Where were you last Christmas
...

The mountain stream
bubbling towards the sea,
silver in the evening light
crossing hills and far away.
...

The long day closes,
safe with moth and fox,
silent owl and timid badger.
I wait the sun, paths tripped
...

It winds its drunken way
as all lanes since Chesterton,
Hedgerows, verges, centuries old
green shoots in the fields
...

I danced her rhythms, long black hair
restless feet dark eyes and pouting lips,
to my shoulders stood and kissed my cheeks
promised more, if I would only wait,
...

Mozart, I antiscipate or think I can.
You suggest, imply, leave the rest
to my imagination, I wait......
A discord I know will overwhelm
...

Remote and lonely baritone
the first in May,
clock-work, mechanical,
two notes not to be forgotten
...

There is a poppy in the garden
the first I've seen in years.
Ten years ago they left...
were they mourning for my love?
...

Hoardings shouting at the street,
those in buses reading as they pass
of perfume, razor blades and Guinness,
selling space and advertising
...

NB Sweethearts an alternative name for Cleavers; Queen Anne's Lace the flower heads of Wild Carrot.

Queen Anne's Lace silhouettes in the hedges
hawthorns bound in bindweed ties
...