Author: Rich

To teach and be taughtWhere teacher becomes the pupilAnd the pupil becomes the teacherWe learn the power of wordsThat ring of true knowledge

I’ve counted my blessings… More often than I’d counted sheep. Frequent school/house moves… Adapted to travel light Easier travelling… Needed a minimalist style. Getting my hands dirty… Fixing my own bicycle. Harder to put down roots… Practicality over aesthetics. Kept my expectations low… Enabled need over want.

Wintry wind Slashing sleet In your face, Spiteful, Like blackthorn in the hedgerow, Sharp Against your skin. And then sun, Shining sickly, Barely warm Until you reach The shelter Of fieldside bushes. Clouds disappearing, A grey blanket-like sky Covering the sun – Until it re-appears, Finding blue spaces And glittering, Like blackthorn blossom, In puddles…

So what if tomorrow and the next day are colder or duller than a few days ago? So what if we have to hang on a bit for the sun to come back again? So what?! If I hear “So what?” one more time, I just might… well, you wait and see.

I knew the blackthorn winter By the sleeping sweet pea trays Tulips surging bent due West All their carmine tongues ablaze I heard the blackthorn winter By the sagging coat peg’s snap Single-layered Sundays Before Monday’s scarf and cap I watched the blackthorn winter Lift the branches one by one And put them down again…

Beware of the Blackthorn Winter, my dear It’s an icy, windy old goat In the milk-teeth of spring And will bite you in the throat, my dear Like a wildly contagious pandemic Beware of the delivery driver, my dear He will always be rushed for time You’ll hear the doorbell ring And he’ll ask you…

Mad Jack Blackthorn, in the freezing breeze Dancing silhouetted on the cliff Gobbing on the village green Leaping like a wild Morris man (They say) A starling flew down (They say) It told him he was curs-ed (They say) He took the label and wore it (They say) He showed his arse to the parson…

Remember how. even after a full week as your old self – or a wiser and happier new self – just an overheard mention of her name emptied your heart? [Then you’re getting…] Do you wonder if it’s just you, or if everyone – or at least everyone who lets themself – when someone who…

I came into this world, It’s a blank canvas, On which to paint my life. When and where this takes place, Mother Nature takes her course, Who knows how I begin, With whom and how many, What my environment might be like. Born an only child, To two parents… Attend five schools… Move house six…

If I should catch Corona germs and fly To that well stocked superstore in the sky. Don’t spill your grief for me or cry. I’ll crack a can and wish you all Good ‘ealth! And as for that old toilet roll, that greedy guy Who grabbed the last whiskey bottle for himself. I’ll simply shake…

What will the coming seasons bring? An upturn to the gloom in everything? And will the blackthorn, that purple-tinter, Thrive to put forth fruit this winter? ‘Fraid I can’t say –It’s been a sloe day.

Wind and rain throughout December, January, February Buffeted whilst commuting On my bicycle between Seaford and Newhaven – Only three and a quarter miles each way – Felt double that distance, though! Mild winter gives way – to a colder early Spring When the blackthorn blossoms Winter’s holding on! Like a visitor outstaying his welcome…

I’m asked fairly often “Well, what have you done? There are jobs to be finished and errands to run. The lawns all need cutting, the edging’s a mess, What have you been doing?” and I have to confess, There’s nothing I like more than messing around Doing nothing important, thinking nothing profound. So, if you’re…

So how will they fill those endless waking hours? Already it feels like yearsSince friends and family said their last goodbyes Looking on the bright side with lipid eyes. Working all day to hide their fears Is beyond their aging powers. Still young inside, they feel they should be out there: Organising helpers, Delivering food…

The Great British Chorus was such a great idea Singing together with those we can’t be near In practice I’ll explain Why it turned out to be a pain Why I’ve given up on song Because he talked too long My child would rather die Than do warm ups, and asks why We’re muted. But…