Two Poems by Richard Waring


Looking back
at the wreckage.
Sifting through the remains.
Searching for the pieces that make sense,
and setting them aside.
An image forms
as the pile grows.
Blurry, indistinct, formless.
But what I have deemed important
is just more wreckage.
Starting anew.
Two piles now, three piles, four.
The mess I have created in my hunt
worse than before.
But still I sift and search and hope.

Happy Birthday

Pink ribbon snagged on an outstretched branch.
Tethered by accident as you drifted by.
Back and forth in the slightest breeze
you struggle, desperate to be free.
As the days pass your magic fades.
Yet your silver skin continues to shine.
And somewhere, a child still mourns your loss.


Richard Waring has lived in Belfast all his life. He loves his city and like many who live there shows that love by constantly complaining about it. His first poem “To Lie On White On Green” is published in the 2019 CAP anthology “Find”.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.