Richard George

Rookie (June 1,1965 / Cheltenham, U.K.)

Richard George Poems

161. The Amniotic Briny 5/24/2005
162. Aardvarks On The Moon 9/22/2009
163. The Marilyn Monroe Doctrine 6/21/2008
164. Caravanserai 10/28/2005
165. Listen To Me 4/14/2005
166. Hilaire Belloc's Mice 4/13/2005
167. The Mermaids Of Brobdingnag 4/14/2005
168. C 4/16/2005
169. The Cruellest April 5/2/2005
170. Matin Tanka 2/3/2008
171. Inheriting 4/2/2005
172. A Squirrel Sextet 7/25/2005
173. Breaking A Tooth 6/28/2005
174. Memory 4/20/2005
175. His Last Trip To London 6/15/2005
176. The Meteorology Of Loss 6/17/2005
177. Bereavement 8/27/2005
178. At The Hayward Gallery 8/17/2005
179. Physical Education 10/5/2005
180. Taid 4/5/2005
181. The Food Chain 4/19/2005
182. Halcyon And After 3/31/2005
183. Sunset's Ghost 4/19/2005
184. Marie Celeste 4/3/2005
185. On A Dead Cat In A Skip In Luton 2/16/2006
186. Hogg And Hanlon And Me 5/8/2005
187. After An Exam 5/3/2005
188. Alcohol Anonymous 5/6/2005
189. A Walking Sadness 4/13/2005
190. Sylvia Plath's Cats 4/2/2005
191. Eclipse: A Haiku Sequence 4/6/2005

Comments about Richard George

  • dr.joachim.ruf@web.de (6/29/2018 12:15:00 PM)

    Please would you tell me in which book is your poem “ The mermaid of... “ is published. Thank you.

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  • Joachim Ruf (6/29/2018 10:54:00 AM)

    I want to know more about the author Richard George. Thanks

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  • Pradeep Dhavakumar (5/1/2005 1:27:00 AM)

    Your poems are very good.I enjoyed most of them.Thanks for sharing.And Keep writing.

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  • ***** ***** (4/19/2005 4:35:00 PM)

    You are delivering some very nice work at the moment Richard, well done and keep posting, Sxx

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  • ***** ***** (4/15/2005 5:39:00 PM)

    Your poetry is really touching, but so sad, so final.. I hope everything is okay with you, Sx

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Best Poem of Richard George

A Walking Sadness

The Euston Road. April. Night.
Of all these London numberless
I love one:
my old shoes pound her name,
Lorna. Lorna.
Poet's shoes.
Now I SEE faces pass,
projected on her photoplay
for not being Lorna:
I have never felt this living,
thirty and a day
in artificial light and rain
and windscreen tear-blink.

Read the full of A Walking Sadness

Tumbelarum

Step-trip - 'Molly! ' -
but she's not a scathe, swaddled
in her parachute of lovat
Danimac. Restored
to the mantelpiece of grandam
she frail-smiles, snug
in the cribbage-notch of gravity,
her world still spinning.
When she dies, she will stumble but

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