Letting Things Come: A poem by Richard Austin

Publisher’s Note: If you’ve not experienced my dear friend, Richard, perform (and I mean perform) poetry, then you’ve not had words made so utterly complete. Poetry is meant not only to be felt in silence; it must be spoken, given in song in the voice of the author. Shared, shouted, into the wind. Or whispered into a child’s drowsy ear.


Winnie-the-Pooh, contemplating Tigger,

with the full force of his self-confessed ‘little brain’

and heavyweight poetic imagination,

concludes that:

“whatever his weight in pounds, shillings, and ounces

he always seems bigger because of his bounces.”


Tiny, timid, but no-pushover Piglet –

all nervous seriousness,

lassos, long ears of logic flapping,

those errant coins,

and pulls Bear’s leap back to earth

when approval is requested –

“All except the shillings, I don’t think they ought to be there”


“They wanted to come in after the pounds, so I let them. It’s the best way to write poetry, letting things come.”

“Oh.” says little Piglet, “I didn’t know.”


See how simple it can be to defend

creative thought –

gently but confidently –

when inspiration

is outlawed and strung up by a lariat of reason?


letting things come


This is the soul of John Lennon’s response

to the mean spirit black crows in Nixon’s employ –

all tar and feathers, paranoia,

and cawing panic in their briefcases;

wires tapped, long lenses trained, tailing without hiding to instil fear.


This is the mantra of peaceful resistance

repeated over and over without shouting:

“All we are saying is Give Peace A Chance”


letting things come


no hatred, no belief

that Peace is anywhere other

than where it should be all the time –

inside us –

ready to emerge when fear is stilled:


“War is over – if you want it”


by Richard Austin, May 3rd 2008



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