Thursday, December 08, 2011

Out of Time

Tuesday’s child,
1.14 a.m. 14th October 1947.
He was from his mother untimely
Timely ripped, overdue,
Long before her time.
Caesar’s so fashionable these days,
Quite the rage!
You can already hear the clicking
Tongue, the pointed intakes of breathe,
“Late again Jones! Take a seat at the back.”
Enter the word warrior worrier,
Bulging out of woollen suit,
His hatred of all cold so evident.
Acromegalic malcontent
With other, blacker seed
Settling in, out of sight
And soon within those tiny fists,
His chosen means to fight.


  1. Anonymous4:57 AM

    Such poignancy. The last poem Rej posts before his death on 13/12/11 is about his birth. A cycle is complete.
    A poet's eyes close
    but the voice still as loud as ever -
    fists clenched.
    What else is there to do?

  2. Anonymous10:29 AM

    great stuff Rej! All the best, Tom ('Hafan Books')

  3. Anonymous12:34 PM

    So, so sad. Rej, Richard will be missed by more people than he could ever imagine. He inspired me to write poetry, an achievement in itself! Goodbye Rej, sleep well. Beryl