richard pierce

richard pierce

14 March 2018

For Stephen Hawking

Despite what you said you believed,
A mind like yours cannot just go out like a light,
Cannot be switched off like a machine,
Nor disappear into the nothing.
The dark is not what we are afraid of,
It’s the emptiness.
And once we realise the void doesn’t exist
We can live forever,
Travellers between stars and vacuums,
No longer in need of body or breath,
Like you now, exploring the reality of your theories.

RP, 14/03/2018

10 March 2018


What is the proof of love,
If there is proof,
And not just blind faith
Or shape?

Is it the curved mouth
Or the lack of attention
Or the inadequate words
Before and after the sigh
Of what feels like fulfilment?

Or is it the exclusion of all else,
Of time and place
And friends and foe,
Of the world at large?

Is love a ghetto of two,
Or is it the freedom to roam
Into the unknown,
And to keep secrets
To make the heart beat faster?

Maybe love is just a theory
To be unproven,
Like Einsteins Relativity
And the shape of the universe.


19 February 2018


The blackbird belly-breathes in the hedge,
Thicket awash with the rain and broken branches
The storm left behind
Of its clouds and whitewash.

It watches the plume of its breath escape,
Claws at it with its half-frozen beak
And its disarranged feathers,
Wings oddly folded across its crooked back.

Its deafness has silenced its song now, in age,
Alone in the cave that was a nest when,
Hearing, it called to the stilling morning.
Its eyes, too, have withered with the years,

Their colour dissipated with the final winter,
And talons blunted by fruitless hunting,
The ground too sodden to rest on.
She shakes herself and waits for her next breath,

And waits ...