Howard Richards


 Welcome to Howard Richards Poetry Page

A 76 year old  physics graduate who worked for many years in research, development and pilot production in areas ranging from highly sophisticated magnetic materials, computer devices, microelectronics and manufacturing software, leading teams both in the UK and Internationally in Europe. Considered by the European Commission at one time to be an expert in all aspects of microelectronics manufacturing and manufacturing software and systems. Retired since the age of seventy to take up interests in botany, art, archeology, travel, butterflies and wild flowers. Since 2011 had interests in short story writing and poetry. 



Howard D. Richards

The Village

Old time worn village snuggles in the valley,
Houses red brick and honey limestone
Wakes slowly from sleep,
As mist rises off the brook


The summer’s sun not yet above the hill
An early walker out in morning air
Pacing upwards fast
Towards the big house.


 In places sheep crop pasture in vista avenue
Lined with fragrant limes and tall slick beeches
Where threads of vapour drift
From warmed undergrowth
Village dwellings catch the first rays of sun
Reflecting their intense golden colour
And from its notched tower
The church clock strikes seven
Stirrings of traffic drive fast through the streets
Commuters and school runs with uncaring mums
By nine all is quiet
Save for twittering
Grey-black Jackdaws, shiny purple sheened rooks
Squawk and kaah in tall dark leafy maples
Tending their coarse nests
And hungry juveniles
High above now, in the bright blue sky, the sun
Casts ever shortening muted shadows
Where sheep lie in scant shade
Below the meadow tree
People enter the Red Lion and Rose and Crown
For lunch of ham and eggs and English beer
Or other choices
From the chalked up slate
Time slows as the hot afternoon progresses
Soporific, the village settles back
Harbouring its secrets
Behind closed windows
Two bells ring signifying the half hour
Mums ready for the regular school run
To fetch their noisy brats
With roaring four by fours
Shadows lengthen away from the setting sun
A fiery red glow lights up the high street
As the red orb goes down
Leaving wine streaked cloud
Evening drinks in gardens as twilight comes
With darkening sky, the street lights glimmer
Time for slumber once more
Silence falls throughout


In Hills near Grindewald

 Misty mountains disappear in shades of grey,
Fir trees in banded woods silhouetted
Against the blue sky of a sunny day,
When spring changes to summer, not regretted
New flowers flourish on Alpine meadows
In gorgeous coloured patchwork tapestries
Where single species hide like all tomorrows,
Some strange and unobtrusive travesties
Lost to all except for the observant
That wily botanist seeking rarity
Such desire in this land so abundant
With pleasures that have no scarcity
Those mountains closer to enchantment
Can’t keep my eyes from their magnificence
Towering rocks with snow and ice engagement
Holds me in glorious obeisance
God’s own country, some seriously say,
But nature changes over eons of time,
And a moment hopefully captured another day
Alpine experiences are so sublime


Winter Months

Where golden leaves drift
Under bare branched trees
And the winds uplift
In the whirling breeze
Like scattered treasure
By the woodlands edge
I go with pleasure
For there I do pledge
To get through the dark days
To emergent spring
To see the white haze
That our snowdrops bring
Remembering, ………
All tarnished endings
Have lustrous beginnings


If you liked Howard’s poems, you are welcome to order his Book of Poems. Please contact Nadine for more details. Thank you!

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