Pain

Poem By William Richards

We rage against the Robin's song,
the leaf assaulting breeze,
snarling smiles on the stranger's face,
the menacing sway of gnarled branches
hanging from the trees.

We rage against the pain that strangles
the soul within our breast,
against the soft-warm love, and when I fall,
the pulsing ache that replaced my heart beat,
a Smithy's hammer on the anvil of my chest.

We rage against the imposing breath
which presumes to fill our lungs,
against the searing, glowing orb,
skin warm and summer glow,
nature's devious beauty and surprise,
rising plants and the river's flow.

We rage against the life we set our shoulders to,
against its uncertain, undulating path
and highway robber twists and bends,
enemies it dares us to overcome,
and the bitter loss of friends.

We rage against the life we have
at once glorious, unbearable, feelings
overwhelm us like the incoming tide,
and the powers that debilitate and subdue.
Milling millions dash and blur about,
yet all my eyes are looking for, is you.

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birds drunkenly across the blue grey above
the dark line of snaking cars below,
between the bending trees and sullen grass,

Revenge

I gave you my heart
and you took it from me.
I paid for the ring, and the church, and the house,
you gave me that smile,

Flowers

I bought her flowers.
Not the bright, multi-coloured kind,
like the colour of my love for her,
but the subtler shades of cream and white,

War Of The Words

Come Battalions of B's and Divisions of D's,
Infantries of I's join with Companies of C's,
form ranks of words more numerate than these,
let us march on the politicians bringing truth to its knees

The Night

The muffled boom, boom, boom,
the soundtrack to the ghosts behind my curtains,
chasing shifting shadows across my silent room.