Rich Uridge

Rich Uridge

Training company boss by day. Poet and a whole heap of other things by night. Plus the son of a mother who was killed in a care home while living with dementia.

The Sky Scratchers

These: the star-crossed brothers The men who would be gods Send satellites to space To hide the track lines of their addiction In plain sight. Wrangling hidden beasts by night Taurus, Aries, Ursa Major… No consolation. No direction. No Australis…

The Ballad of the Golden Boot

All Hermes feet they thread a pass Clean through a needle’s eye And weave their magic on the grass Opponents want to fly. The ice cool nerves of Dembélé Brain-freezing defenders. Rooney swooning on the telly France, he says, contenders.…

The Major Oak – no minor matter

I wasn’t surprised that the demise of the Major Oak in Nottinghamshire, England’s, Sherwood Forest made global headlines. It was, after all, billed as ‘the most famous tree in the world’ and undoubtedly one of Europe’s largest and oldest specimens.…

To a mechanic dying young

A cycle, Triumph Bonneville, Its throttle full up old Lords Hill. The rider leans with n’er a skid A dimpled grin beneath his lid. Kiwi-bred so hell to leather Clad instead in maroon sweater. Yet softly spoken, quite the catch…