Author Archives: Dick Jones

About Dick Jones

I'm a post-retirement Drama teacher, currently working part-time. I have a grown-up son and daughter, three grandchildren and three young children from my second marriage. I write - principally poetry but prose too, both fitfully published. My poetry collection Ancient Lights is published by Phoenicia Publishing ( and my translation of Blaise Cendrars' 'Trans-Siberian Prosody and Little Jeanne from France' (illustrated by my friend, the artist, writer and long-time blogger Natalie d'Arbeloff) is published by Old Stile Press ( I play bass guitar & bouzouki in the song-based acoustic/electric trio Moorby Jones, playing entirely original material. spotify:artist:07MDD5MK9MnRGSEZwbsas9 I have a dormant blog with posts going back to 2004 at Dick Jones' Patteran Pages - - and I'm a radio ham. My callsign is G0EUV


Starting from the raggy edgeof a night of demons –Crazy Helga in a blue roomacross the alley, her shadowwild & ticky on the busted blindas she wails in Germanat her TV screen.Jesus, what a sound:something dark & spinythrashing in her … Continue reading

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PETANQUE PLAYERS AT ST. ENOGART There are two men, this square of ground, the sun, the cypress tree. The men unpack their boules. The man in the blue shirt clacks a pair together. The man in the red shirt arcs … Continue reading

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wing. when there’s no memory of the moment of passage and tissue and salts have gone to the denizens themselves now gone to earth those feathers make a brave show folded still into the intelligence of flight as if they … Continue reading

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sheep skull hollow

SHEEP SKULL HOLLOW The resonance of bone –my knuckle rappingon the brain pan.Loose earth blows freeas if blood wasat some point of decaypulverised. The wine of lifewas drawn and allhad become dust. I set the skullon a post to watchalong … Continue reading

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HOW IT IS. I’m old and I shall die soon. This much is true. For much of the time nowadays such anguished queries as to what manner of ‘soon’? whose ‘soon’? when does ‘soon’ transmute into pretty much now? go … Continue reading

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Old Man’s Tears There is a plantcalled old man’s tears.A thwart, disnatured thing,tall, but crooked tall,not bold tall likeits companions all around. And its leaves are thinner,but they’re fiercer,like its flower, which, thoughchewed and ragged, stillstares bright into the world. … Continue reading

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skies that make islandsof familiar treesand cause us to imaginegreat waters in betweennear and far and so probabilityyields to dreamingand there are wings

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Proposition. A song is a song and a poem is a poem.They share words but they don’t share function.I wrote this as a poem and then Steve Moorby ofMoorbyJones, the band we share with his daughterGemma Moorby, set it to … Continue reading

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Even when you know that with any given poetry magazine receiving maybe 3,000 submissions a month, the chances of acceptance are minimal, it can be a rough push in the chest when yours is rejected. Against the inevitable sense of … Continue reading

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i leave the earthin vapour evenunder a winter suni become a cold-shouldered clouduneven inconstanti hide the skyand you wonderwill we ever knowblue aroundour heads againi eatthe children cloudswhere they playand become all heftand hubrisbut as empires fallso i fragmentand the … Continue reading

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