‘Coffee (a second cup)’

Today’s acrostic poem is ‘Coffee (a second cup)’, another instant classic!

coffee - 2 cups

Coffee (a second cup)



© Nick Ritchie 2014

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Hot on the heels of yesterday’s acrostic poem ‘Tea’, here’s another beverage poem…




© Nick Ritchie 2014

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A new acrostic poem today on that most venerable of subjects…




© Nick Ritchie 2014

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It’s been a while but here’s my latest poetic offering, an acrostic poem ‘Lilies’, which accompanies this week themed photo blog,  ‘My Daily Snap’.




Poetry © Nick Ritchie 2014

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JCC – A Manc Legend

I’m reposting this poem as it ties in nicely with this piece I’ve just written on my Man Of Letters blog ‘ Musical Diary 002 – The Monochrome Set’

‘Johnny Clarke’s Party’ (revised)

I’ve just revised/re-drafted this poetic tribute to John Cooper Clarke. The final verse has changed, giving it more edge and the previous final verse dropped as it seemed a bit twee! I was never quite satisfied with the earlier draft, which was completed under time constraints for NaPoWriMo 2014’s final day. Sometimes it is better to let the words settle, like building house – you want it built on solid foundations.

What do you think?


Johnny Clarke’s Party

John Cooper Clarke’s having a party
I know it must be true
I saw it in the NME
And this week’s ‘Sniffin’ Glue’
“I’ve got all your records mate
Read all your poems too
Stay up listening when it’s late
Like all your real fans do”

JCC’s having a party
At least that’s what I’ve heard
I’m hoping for an invite
I know that’s quite absurd
I’ll take along a bottle of gin
I believe that’s what’s preferred
Leave the ‘Tonic for the Troops’ to bring
I think that’s what’s inferred

Mr Clarke’s having a party
I hope that I’ll get in
The bouncer will take convincing though
He’s fixed me with his grin
“We’re both lit-er-ary gentlemen”
That’s what I’ll tell him
Literally re-arranging letters
To earn an honest living

Johnny Clarke’s having a party
Luminaries will be there
Just leave me in the corner
I’ll stand quietly and stare
I’ve heard the guest list is divine
With names that are quite rare
“Let me have a sneaky peak for mine,
The excitement’s hard to bear”

The Guest List…

A Euro Communist
A Gucci Socialist
The Ghost of Al Capone
Psycle Sluts
Readers’ Wives
…just to lower the tone

The It Man
The New Assassin
One Full-time Loser
A sunken yachtsman
A drunken Scotsman
…straight from the boozer

A Health Fanatic
A Bronze Adonis
A very Distant Relation
Kung Fu International
A Blob of Slime
…a very strange creation

Salome Maloney
Some Lost Women
Someone known as The Pest
Gaberdine Angus
A Monster from Outer Space
…whose costume is the best!

A Teenage Werewolf
Post-War Glamour Girl
Residents of Beezley Street
Night People
Chicken Town types
…you wouldn’t want to meet

Add to that a Postman Poet
And it’s a guest list hard to beat

JC’s having a party
I’m sure I’m on the list
See, scrawled at the bottom,
Postie Poet…the one you nearly missed
I don’t know what you mean to infer
By grabbing hold my wrist
“Please move along sir…
You seem a little pissed!”

© Nick Ritchie 2014


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‘A Lesson Learnt’

Another previously unpublished poem; unearthed from the archives, gathering dust, having not seen the light of day for 20 years.

A Lesson Learnt

To me, my education
Is in regression,
I’m learning less and less,
I’ve learnt my lesson

© Nick Ritchie 2014

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‘Blue Day’

Sunday, 13 July, 6pm GMT

Here’s a poem I’ve been working on this afternoon that’s been in the ‘waiting room’ for a while. The original draft dates back to October 1989, with a much shorter 2nd draft completed four years later. For some reason I’ve returned to it today. This revised 3rd draft the result. I’m still not quite sure if this will be the final draft though…

Blue Day

Uninteresting faces,
Dull and blank
And full of lies,
Black briefcases,
Similar style
Same size,
Different combinations,
Different destinations,
Can’t disguise
You seek the same prize,
A bigger pay cheque,
A salary rise

Another nervous wreck
In a blue pin-striped suit,
Matching tie
And shirt,
If looks could kill
Yours would surely hurt,
Furrowed brow
And troubled frown,
Feeling the pace,
Burdens dragging you down

Blue water,
Ice cold,
Laps around your face,
Wrinkled, old,
Tired of the chase,
Hollow blue eyes,
Reflect a life
The sum
Of which slowly sinks
And dies

© Nick Ritchie 2014

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