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Top 100 Poets 2004
£100 4th Place Winner:
Ricky Lock
Top
100 Poets
2004 Edition Buy
This Book
£8.99
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Ricky
Lock
Winner
of our Top 5 Poets of
May 2004 Online
Competition and Top 100 Poets of the Year Award
2004 4th Place Prize Winner of
£100
Top
100 Poets of 2004 Prize Winners
List 
I am 43 years of age and live in Old Bexley village, Kent. I am a Psychosynthesis counsellor and a registered healer. I love to work with people and help them to open up to more of themselves, so they can find their own way to help themselves to live a happier life.
I have always been interested in poetry especially the war poets, Owen, Sasson and Brook. I started writing poetry around three years ago as a way of discovering and expressing my own hidden feelings and to broaden my understanding of how I viewed the world. My poetry has given me many hidden jewels and a deepening awareness of myself as well as a new way to relate to others. I have had poems published in America as well as here in England.
I share my life with my two wonderful sons Matthew and Aaron and a lovely partner, Fiona. I hope soon to write a book on the extraordinary and wonderful experiences I have had through my lifetime. I enjoy running, playing squash and tennis with my two sons and I am also an avid reader.
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Eyes of
Pain
They laughed at the grotesque figure approaching,
The man with a red dress and lipstick to match.
They whispered and mocked his heavy features,
They were like a pack of hyenas waiting to scratch.
I could only feel the pain inside for this lost soul,
His eyes told a long story of ridicule and pain,
The poor man with a coloured scarf around his face,
Why do they mock? what do they have to gain?
I was only nine years old, but saw his plight,
Saw his struggles and endless fight,
I had to leave this crowd to gloat,
I was feeling ill with lump in my throat.
Please forgive me from not defending him,
I was only a boy with no respect, I couldn't win.
Looking back, the image still haunts me so,
The man with the lipstick, and the crowd who didn't know.
Amber Eyes
I stand so tall with bark so tough,
I stand so broad - always in a rush.
To look inside would be so dark,
To search within would leave its mark.
My rings are tight away from view,
From ages past, from me to you.
Within the rings my child does lay,
Behind the bark to live each day.
The roots go deep within the soil,
To draw life's breath from our eternal coil.
Its only when the shell feels pain,
Does the amber run like a tear of rain.
Within the gold the child is seen,
His past and present, all he's been.
He watches out and knows so well,
The cost of dreams he wants to tell.
The branches stretch - to touch the sky,
To find potential in the amber eyes.
The oak stands strong through wind and rain,
Through sun and breeze to keep me sane.
My life the oak will see the end,
It's kept me well and stayed my friend.
Love is
Love is a tear in a fabric to envelop your soul,
Where it has gone it leaves a broken shard;
Love gives away your freedom and steals and hides,
To appear again when the disrupted sands lay down to rest.
To taste the sweet nectar of the scarlet breath,
To merge into the lost empire of golden truths,
And fall like the troubled raven with death in its grasp.
To trust the smell of violet waves crashing through,
Rushing into the space that is isolated from hunger.
Like any flower I see it wither and fade into the earth,
And the air turning colder from the familiarity of time,
Love is this web of truths and untruths,
love is…
Patched Bag
Forlorn the old man
Sat at the café table
Looking with an
Old blank expression
Through the steamed
Faceless window.
Memories of an age ago
Swelled through his mind,
Moving backward and
Forward - Images of his
Children's faces calling
Out his name. The loss
Was like a web covering
His presence - like he had
A forgotten part of himself
Hiding in the shadows,
Playing with his senses;
'Saying I'm here find me'
His tea was as cold as his
Heart and he knew his time
Had come to move away
From this nagging echo,
The echo that refuses
Him any respite.
He left his patched
Bag by the table legs
And took his leave,
For another destination.
A place to put all the ghosts
To rest - he didn't look back.
Hopes Lost
He sat down and joined the flawed phantoms
Speaking In false tongues, the men who drank their life
Away to hide from their life mistakes. They gather around
The old wooden Black burnt stubbed table, to discuss what
Could have been…
The story's unfold and become heavy through the smoky haze,
The lies flow so easily from the gathering, mixing with grains
Of truth that suddenly emerge from somewhere Unexpected.
The shout of last orders breaks through the slurred unfettered words,
The emergency breaks through the red faces that know it will soon
Be time to face their demons in the quiet of the night; When the devils
Water Dissipates, and leaves them alone with their hopes that were lost.
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