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Gary Radice Poem
between the plant pots and the trays
the cobwebs had seen better days
and for all the wood and damp and soil
the smell was one of paint and oil
as flies and wasps lying in state
were curled up past their fly-by-date
and nails and screws and metal hooks
shared space on shelves with brewery books
beneath a clock with broken hands
where time stood still amongst the cans
and jam jars full of pip-like seeds
stood next to things that no one needs
and while her tears had stained the glass
that looked out on the unkempt grass
upon the floor amid the mess
..a letter
and her wedding dress.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2021
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Gary Radice Poem
from beyond his
vibrant palette
that bore all his
lifelong scars
is what I see
beneath his sky
and myriad
of stars
a scene of shades
and silhouettes
formed by the
yellow light
that hints at
The Last Supper
at that café
in the night?
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2022
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Gary Radice Poem
to walk in early morning's still
to see the silence through the chill
to smell the rise of dawn from night
to hear the sky's unravelling light
to taste the distant fields of grass
to breathe the dry stone walls that pass
to touch the earth's pure pristine air
to catch the world - and hold it there.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2021
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Gary Radice Poem
I
when the world had no headsets
the sunbathing crowd
fell asleep to the sounds of
transistors played loud
while the deckchairs and windbreaks
kites, beach balls and more
formed the stripes, lines and circles
that painted the shore
and the longer I walked
on the sand to that sea
the more the sea seemed
to get further from me
and the crunch in my mouth
was that one grain of sand
in the sandwich I ate
from my sand covered hand
while the lemons and melons
and plums I'd watch spin
would stop short of a cherry
one click from a win
and the postcards we sent
from the end of the pier
had us writing such half truths
as "wish you were here."
II
from the end of the pier
through the stiff breeze
and spindrift
I can still hear the tunes
of the promenade bands
and I can still see the stripes
of the deckchairs and windbreaks
and the box kites
and beach balls
that painted the shore
and I can still taste
the butter
- warm like the canned ham
and the crunch of that sand
in the sandwich I had
and I can still hear the djs
laughing and talking
spinning hits of the sixties
from transistors
played loud
and I can still smell the onions
frying wild in the fairground
to the sound of the claxons
and the lemon. click. orange. click. melon.
click. click.
and I can still breathe the deep smoke
swirling in sand dunes
from their benson and hedges
and
player's no.6
and I can still see those grown ups
staring at mirrors
- their bodies distorted
like the dreams
they once had.
today on the pier
the rain that's now falling
falls from a same sky
on a same sand and same sea
- on a same me
yet this air -
this air
is not the same air
as that air I
once
breathed.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2023
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Gary Radice Poem
I watched a dog fight back the sea
to chase a ball thrown on the surf
it sensed no danger unlike me
when I chased young dreams on this earth.
at some point in reality
against those waves I lost my nerve
I blame my personality
respecting nature's tides since birth.
and now that dog's just running free
- its ball retrieved with canine verve
despite a law that it should be
restrained by harness round its girth.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2021
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Gary Radice Poem
as swallows land and swifts take flight
inside late noon’s last shards of light
the chill winds that descend on day
cause dense green swathes of reeds to sway
across the flooded vista’s ground
in harmony with nature’s sound
of shrills that echo through the air
from birds and insects everywhere
while stars with room to breathe and shine
light up a land divorced from time
to show the beauty and true worth
of life in balance here on earth.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2023
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Gary Radice Poem
I
just like their love of fifty years
that they held very dear
the lilies and the irises
looked radiant that year.
they had no need to prove their love
just a knowing glance instead
and a gentle squeeze when holding hands
beside their flower bed.
when both felt tired from bending down
and working in the heat
they spoke of seeds and bulbs and things
drinking tea upon the seat.
having rid the soil of all the weeds
he hoed and raked the earth.
the yellow line of daffodils
spoke more than words were worth.
and when their lawn was cloaked in leaves
from the sycamore above
they cursed and sighed just being themselves
in the autumn of their love.
II
and as he sat there mourning
the passing of his wife
he looked upon the garden as
A CELEBRATION
of her life.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2020
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Gary Radice Poem
there’s a silence somewhere that listens and hears
that feels all our pain through the gift of our tears
that helps us to see in that dark which we hide
by shining a light - lit by love - deep inside.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2023
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Gary Radice Poem
a city
hungover
wakes slowly
to silence
and lights that
keep watch
over night
the red
and red amber
the green
amber
red
on still streets with
no traffic in sight.
railings and
stone steps
lead down to a
basement
where graffiti
conceals a
locked door
and where bins
overflowing
with bottles
and chip trays
spew half eaten
food
to the floor.
a pigeon
whose body
attempts
as it struts
to try
to catch up
with its head
flaps and then
makes for
what looks like
the inside
of a sandwich
set free from
its bread.
as blocked grids
and clogged gutters
sip dregs
of drain water
left over
from midnight's
wild rain
there are blankets
in doorways
and the red
red and amber
and green
amber
red once again.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2022
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Gary Radice Poem
Try leave behind "Book Of The Week"
And head upstairs where floorboards creak.
Where people tilt their heads to look
At every spine on every book.
Where murderers and secret lovers
Plot and scheme between the covers.
Where transport from another age
Transports you to another page.
Where old detective books reside
Each with their price pencilled inside.
Where books based on geometry
Share space with trigonometry.
Where childhood annuals stand in line
With memories of a simpler time.
Where silent thoughts pervade the air
And words speak volumes everywhere.
Copyright © Gary Radice | Year Posted 2021
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