John Rickell Poems

I leaned the gate
between the wood and pasture,
more to think than rest;
Slow clouds, heavy and grey
...

Eight, the night is still
the wind-flower folded
closed against the dew;
nowhere is the blackbird heard
...

I leaned the morning mist
fast fading in the sun,
had climbed the hill,
was tired.
...

You did not tell me blackbird
did you want to surprise me
knowing I would be pleased?
and that I am, so very much.
...

The day had long since gone
A glow to the west fading fast and sure
Foot fall insecure, twigs snapping,
moths and money spiders’ silks impede.
...

I scratched my way
through the hawthorn thicket
A sunny day and dry
tall course grasses rushes moss,
...

The Cathedral church
was almost empty.
No Christmas lights,
peaceful, quiet,
...

The Board Inn at the end of Pavement
scrubbed bar top and saw-dustfloor
Bass and only Bass, a real ale
handles on the glass....
...

Glow red you terracotta sky,
Deep blue you narrow sea
Beneath exotic skies
Above grey and drying sands,
...

Goldfinches feed again
counted two today, said hello,
ninja seed their favourite,
thistles from America,
...