Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

*****Sun Poets Socities Featured Writers*****

Richard Heley

Richard Heley is an artist, poet, songwriter, story
writer, and "live" performance painter. He exhibits
his paintings and drawings regularly in the UK and
paints as performance in night-clubs & arts events
internationally, often inviting audience articipation,
an activity that has been particularly successful
while working with children. His paintings are
represented in collections around the world. Richard
is the 1997 Farrago UK Poetry Slam Champion, has a
growing reputation as a spoken word performer and has
toured extensively in the UK and America. He has
performed his poetry, storytelling, and songs on BBC
Radio, GLR, and local radio stations in the UK,
Australia and the USA. A qualified art and craft
teacher, he is an experienced 'live' painting,
art, craft and creative writing workshop leader.
Richard has produced three volumes of poetry and
stories [Lines. (1983), Fishing for Chance Answers.
(1996)] & Jigsaw World. (1998)] and two albums of
poetry and music [Curves. (1986) & Waves of love.
(1996).] He is currently host of Earthbeat Slam Club a
poetry and music venue in West London, which provides
a performance platform for some fine emerging UK and
International songwriters and spoken word performers.
Richard is resident "Live" Performance Painter
at 'Dutchpot' a monthly art and songwriters showcase
held in Subterranea Night Club in West London.

website Robert Heley


******His Poetry******

My Dad's Sense Of Humour...

I got my Sense Of Humour from my Dad.
He got it from the local supermarket.
There it was, in the window, all shop soiled and past
its tell-by date. "Cheap jokes," said the sign.
So, for my first birthday, I got my Dad's Sense of
Humour. I've been trying to give it back to him ever
since but he won't give me a refund.

So one day, when my Dads hair and the lines of his
jokes were growing a little thin, we decided to take
my Dad's Sense of Humour back to the local supermarket
and demand our consumer rights! So, we put the Sense
of Humour in a tropping sholley, wheeled it into
the managers office, put it on his desk and said to
the manager; "This Sense of Humour isn't funny any
more!" "Try tickling it in the ribs," he
suggested, "that'll make it laugh."
"No, no," I said, "you don't understand. This Sense of
Humour doesn't work. "Then it should be claiming
Unemployment Benefit." insisted the Manager.

So we took the Sense of Humour down to the Dole office
and tried to sign it on. But the Benefits Clerk took
one look at us and said that what we had was a sick
sense of humour and as such it wasn't eligible for
Unemployment Benefit only Invalidity Benefit.
Now we get an invalid benefit. £50 a week.
Not much money to feed a sick Sense of Humour said my Dad.

Now I have to tell you the bitter sweet conclusion to
this cautionary tale of our times and that is:
That a sense of humour is fragile and needs nourishing.
A sick sense of humour is fragile, needs nourishing
and occasionally, surgery. An unemployed, sick sense
of humour sometimes dies. We buried my Dad's Sense of
Humour in the back yard and marked the spot with a
glow-in-the-dark statuette of Mrs Thatcher cradling
her baby son Mark in her arms deal. Now every night
when my Dad takes the dog into the garden for his
daily doo-doos and we hear the aquatic sound of dog
wee on plastic ex-Prime Minister, we know exactly what
my Dad's doing......He's cultivating his Sense of Humour!

To be alive.

I'm fishing for chance answers in this sensual sea of
feeling As its overlapping mysteries unfold.
Yearning for surrender to loves universal union
That a friendship mixed with passion can evolve.

I'm waltzing round in circles through life's festival
of drama Though the dancing partners change and scenes
revolve Wondering if it's possible within desire's
yearning To find a peace of mind lovers can hold.

I'm dropping thoughts into a universal wishing well
And laying with my hopes wrapped round a dream
Wishing it be possible within this peaceful union
For the beauty of these feelings to remain.

But in the wheel of life the only constant change
Birth, growth, decay returning to the same
Spinning spiral bound through space and time
Learning just how it feels to be alive...
...as the world spins
Through its changing
To the same thing
And the leaves fall
From their ageing
But in decaying
They are feeding
What's alive...
To be alive...
To be alive..
To be...