top of page
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram

I hear the clang of the bell and I see myself

running on cold concrete across the school playground,

knees gashed and grazed, naked elbows protruding

from a worn out cardigan.

Tucking dress into my knickers I tipple up

the sooty black wall, feet firmly planted against its solid face.

Blood rushes and reddens already rosy cheeks while

grit grabs the fleshy palms of my hands.

The skipping rope flies high, in time to

‘Polly’s in the kitchen’ and I get a stitch doing the skipping.

I run away screaming as someone shouts ‘Kiss-catch’, NO-ONE

misses snotty nosed kisses from bullying boys with tide marks.

A small tin of Tics, tucked in my pocket

Rattles and tinkles and brings all friends running.

‘Share or you’re dead.’ claim a clamour of voices

And a handful of hands are grabbing and jabbing.

The bell clangs again and Miss Ellie takes charge

‘Line up in order and don’t make a noise.

Boys on the left and Girls on the right.’

She marches us back through the great gothic doors.

The Old School by C J Richardson


Read more . . .

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,

Read more . . .

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.

Read more . . .

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.

Read more . . .

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

Read more . . .

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.

Read more . . .

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;

bottom of page