Poetry

The Old School by C J Richardson

I hear the clang of the bell and I see myself

running on cold concrete across the school playground,

Home is where the Hearth by C J Richardson

Why do you use me, abuse me so badly?

Screwing up paper and squashing it madly;

nestling the throwaway news in my innards.

What a Hoot by C J Richardson

“Too whit my dear husband, please hurry, make haste

All three eggs have hatched, there is no time to waste.

The table is empty, not a bite in the house.

A Race to the Sea by C J Richardson

We’re on the train that’s racing to the seaside for the day

I’ve got my towel and costume, my bucket and my spade

Outside I get a fleeting look at cows in fields of green

Sweet and Sour by C J Richardson

Mam made a cone

from newspaper and put sugar in it.

Then she’d give each of us a stick

of rhubarb, to dip.

Elephant Breath by C J Richardson

A gloss white basin set in dark loam wood

With shiny taps that sparkle when they flow.

The walls, half-panelled, are not the colour of mud;