The Cruellest April

Poem By Richard George

My favourite photo of Wales:
shepherd leading dog
on the drovers' path above Glascwm,
the man's face a life-mask
of dirt and devotion.
Behind them Gwaunceste looms:
trees give out, then fields
to the bald slope, bare hints
of blue in the grass's green.
Last month foot and mouth
invaded Painscastle:
what are the portraits now?
The woman stoic;
men head in hands at the hearth;
the girl of eleven
taken to neighbours, screaming.
Tears freeze, come down as snow:
how many seasons burn
in newsreel minutes?

Comments about The Cruellest April

Quite powerful. Well done.
So real Richard, I lived it, you tell it like it was, exceptionally done. Jazzy x


Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of GEORGE

Eclipse: A Haiku Sequence

Imperceptible
at first, sunlight changing; then
dusky, or faded,

A Walking Sadness

The Euston Road. April. Night.
Of all these London numberless
I love one:
my old shoes pound her name,

Halcyon And After

It was May or June, I met you:


Business, something or other.

Sylvia Plath's Cats

Their breath was clean, or harsh and sour
according to her moods:
and when they sensed a coming storm
they crept into corners.

Marie Celeste

Now I may never see you again
I can think of no one else:
I wait on platforms, hair in the wind
But trains all leave the past

7/7: Before And After

The dark young man
with the curls of the Maghreb
is in an altercation
with the ghost