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Best Poems Written by Richard Tipping

Below are the all-time best Richard Tipping poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Harry Chapin - Story of a Life

I’m about to tell what’s an important story,
Of a singer who is sadly now long gone,
Whose story needs some increased recognition,
He could p’raps be described a special one.
He was born in nineteen forty two,
And sadly died in nineteen eighty one,
His memory and music though will never be forgot,
His charities and work continue on.
He made a lot of money, in America renowned,
At one point highest paid of all his peers,
And still the homeless charities do work that bears his name,
Despite him being gone for forty years.
At Height of fame he realised a fortune,
At times it reached 2 million a year,
At least a third of it though he did give away,
Philanthropy towards his causes dear.
In Britain there aren’t many who remember Harry’s name,
But some of his songs linger in their head,
They’ve heard about a morning DJ and cradles for cats,
And a better place to be than in their bed.
Songs autobiographical,
And others based on news that he had read,
At first he struggled for success like Mister Tanner did,
Ignored the critics views  and what they said.
His passion was world hunger that was unacceptable,
He’d do what he could to eradicate,
The Harry Chapin Foodbank still stands proudly in his name,
And still relieving hunger to this date.
He always felt Long Island was the place to live his dreams,
Perhaps you’d say his opportunity,
To make a massive difference in the world to many folks,
Perhaps you’d say a better place to be.
He co- founded World Hunger Year,
With  DJ friend that he knew called Bill Ayres
Congressional Gold Medal, a posthumous award
That later recognised each of his worthy cares.
On July 16th Nineteen eighty one his fate was sealed,
Going to a show in East Meadow, New York,
A truck crashed into him whose fault ended his  life,
No more he’d ever sing again or talk.
That could have been the end of things, for others it sure would,
But Harry is the subject of this rhyme,
His legacy maybe seems as important as his life,
And not diminished with passing of time.
Theatres and student halls named in his memory,
Foundation chaired by Sandy, she his wife,
His legacy continues to improve the world today,
This story of a most important life.

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Black Lives Matter

They say that black lives matter, Dad,
But I’m not black , I’m white,
Their lives don’t matter more than mine,
That surely can’t be right?
I think it needs explaining, son,
So you can understand,
This cause is about fairness,
And not an unjust demand.
We didn’t suffer bigotry,
Or racism in waves,
We’re not tainted by our skin colour,
We were never slaves.
We’re not discriminated against,
privilege our perch
We’re not eight times as likely,
To be chose for stop and search.
Black population bigger,
But it’s not about amounts,
The time that all lives matter,
Is when every black life counts.
“The knee” may be symbolic,
A reminder of the past,
It shouldn’t take another kill,
For things to change at last.
There’s still discrimination,
That seems so hard to acknowledge,
The Klu Klux Klan is not illegal,
Members went to college!
Knocking down some statues,
Maybe I can’t justify,
But they should not be there at all,
When they made black folk die.
There’s disproportioned numbers,
Of black People housed in slums,
Not us who fear a backlash,
Every new report that comes.
Our colour shouldn’t matter,
But to date that’s what’s occurred,
But racists and the ignorant,
Want our thoughts to be blurred.
I hope you understand now,son,
Why This long fight goes on,
And people wont be silenced,
Til this prejudice is gone.
Peaceful demonstrations ,
Are so right to show support,
But this time we need action,
Let’s not let it come to nought.
Until equality is real,
And not just PR patter,
Race Discrimination’s wrong,
And thats why black lives matter!

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Meandering River

Meandering river, 
Just passing  us by,
Looking so blue,
While reflecting the sky.
Gently the flowing,
The trickle sounds small,
Louder the crashing,
Of the waterfall.
The sun on  it glistens,
As it weans it’s way,
Creating the background,
For this sunny day.
Stones to be skimmed,
Many times will it bounce?
Just for fun really,
No win to announce.
Meandering on,
On its journey to sea,
The beautiful river,
That’s always set free.
Sometimes there’s boats,
On the river To view,
But just passing by’s,
For the water to do.
Meandering river,
I stare and I sigh,
You’re fresh and relaxing,
Meandering by.
So if the worlds mad,
Nothing quite in its place,
Just sit by the river,
A smile on your face.
Just stare at the river,
While sat on its banks,
Meandering river,
Just want to say thanks!

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Off To War

He’d never ventured further than the next town,
He didn’t know what overseas did mean,
But wanted to be there for King and Country,
The biggest fight the world had ever seen.
He hadn’t anything against the Germans,
He didn’t know where Germany did sit,
But when he saw the sign “your country needs you”
With bravery he had to do his bit.
His mates weren’t sure that he had done the right thing,
Though thought him brave to go and volunteer,
They didn’t follow him to sign the papers,
Their loyalty replaced by abject fear.
The first day he lined up with all the others,
Most of them were nineteen years or less,
He didn’t know that he’d become remembered,
As just part of a sad and bloody mess.
He quickly learned he had to follow orders,
He couldn’t question any bad decision,
To win the war the orders had a purpose,
And had to be followed with tight precision.
At home he had his mates and had a sweetheart,
Now in the fields he was part of a pack,
They waved him off with wishes and some tears,
Not knowing that he’d not be coming back.
He followed every order to the letter,
Obedience as taught,  his was so blind,
And when he crossed the field as was instructed,
He didn’t know it was one that was mined.
Explosion happened suddenly but quickly,
He didn’t suffer any lasting pain,
But he and two of his new comrade soldiers,
Would never fight or even breathe again.
The day before he gave his life for freedom,
He’d penned a letter to his girl back home,
He didn’t say much, he was not a writer,
So it was only just a tiny tome.
It said “if anything should happen to me,
I want you to be happy, I am sure,
I love you but I had to do my duty,
But there must never be another war”.
Of course she cried her eyes out when she read it,
The telegram arriving with her first,
She wiped her eyes and felt her heart in pieces,
She told her mum this awful war was cursed.
In two years time when she heard on the radio,
The war was over and at last we’d won,
She told her mum the victory was hollow,
Her life was over ‘fore it had begun.
Each year with pride she wore her poppy proudly,
Thought only of her love who was so brave,
The epitaph to those who never came back,
Too young to be sent to their early grave.
The memory had never ever left her,
She never loved again throughout her life,
The final words she’d read in that short letter,
Were “if I come back, will you be my wife?”

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Magic Factory

I’m opening a factory,
Recruitment starts today,
I’ll describe you the Person Spec.
Send me your resumee.
You have to have experience,
Of doing magic tricks,
And no exaggeration,
How you use your magic sticks,
For ours is a wand factory,
With each a special touch,
They’ll all work very well,
But don’t rely on them too much.
The manufacture’s easy bit,
The black with a white trim,
But putting magic into them’s
Not just done on a whim.
You have to have some power,
You can use and then pass on,
Cos we don’t offer refunds,
From the factory once they’re gone.
Each power is acceptable,
Working here, you’ll get fond,
You’ll make some lives get better,
As you make each magic wand.
And if they are misused at all,
Then each one we’ll retrieve,
And we will only employ those,
Who in them do believe!
Complete your application form,
Try hard to impress me,
You can use David Blaine or Merlin,
As your referee!
There is one stipulation,
That the wands can’t be used for,
They can’t be used for COVID,
Because Trump would claim the cure!

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Life Like Lego

"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"

                                           John Ruskin, 1853

Have you ever thought life was like Lego?
With all of its interlocked pieces?
Mothers and fathers, grandparents and siblings,
And cousins and nephews and nieces.
Have you ever thought life was like Lego?
All squared off, each piece has its place,
And when your work reaches achievement,
Sit back with a smile on your face.
Have you ever thought life was like Lego?
So easy to knock it all down,
One moment the pieces resplendent,
The next broken making you frown.
Have you ever thought life was like Lego?
Press hard if you need things to stay,
Hard work while you put it together,
But great times with it as you play.
Have you ever thought life was like Lego?
With its colours of blue, white and red,
Or maybe I haven’t quite got it,
Life’s more like a jigsaw instead!

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Silent Reflection

Thinking about,
all the people who’ve gone,
Some who are famous, 
some thought of by none,
Some who were ill, 
some who suddenly passed,
Others survived,
Longer than they should last.
Remembering times,
From the old days for sure,
Reflecting on things,
That aren’t like that no more.
Time spent together,
Time they spent alone,
Things that now exist,
That they’d love to have known.
Not speaking a word,
Cos they’ve no way to hear,
Just thinking about them,
And wishing them near.
Imagining heaven,
P’raps hoping they’re there?
For their long lasting souls,
Perhaps saying a prayer?
It doesn’t feel morbid,
It’s not even sad,
It’s just a reflection,
on times that I’ve had.
So closing my eyes,
To think about them all,
A silent reflection,
On those I recall.
So close your eyes with me,
And you do it too,
With your silent reflection,
They’ll be back with you.

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

The Writer

A small paradise island,
In the Caribbean Sea,
Rain comes once a year,
Sure does sound like ecstasy.
It’s not in travel brochures,
And there is no airport here,
The population’s seventy,
Not all of them appear!
A cabin on the waterfront,
No need to lock the doors,
A haven for a writer,
Whose life needs a little pause.
The laptop on the worktop,
Shouting out for a new chapter,
No internet to access,
Without finding an adaptor.
The wine bottles are chilling,
To go with the evening meal,
A fish caught just this afternoon,
Does so much now appeal.
No television to tune in,
The Radio not clear,
But nobody is caring,
When they see the lifestyle here.
The preface and three chapters,
To be finished by July,
It’s not on track but soon he’ll be,
Inspired by the sky.
He’s got his tan researching,
While he lay there on the deck,
But sometimes he gets word blind,
It’s a real pain in the neck.
But then he thinks about this life,
That he’s always desired,
He thinks about his characters,
He’s soon again inspired.
No pattern to his writing,
He just scribes when in the mood,
He pauses for a drink or two,
Of course when he needs food.
He said he’d write a masterpiece,
That’s still what he intends,
But for the length it’s taking,
He will have to make amends.
Another chapter finished,
To the publisher conveyed,
No reasons or excuses,
Why again he was waylaid.
Now on the final chapter,
His conclusion due next week,
He’s finishing the epilogue,
Now on his winning streak.
He sends it to the publisher,
Who says he has no equal,
They say “we love you, please ensure
You’re quicker with the sequel”!

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

Sky

Blue, like the Mediterranean sea,
When it’s cloudless a bright summer day,
Darker when clouds are appearing within,
Until the grey days pass away.
Darker still when there are storms building up,
And the clouds soon releasing the rain,
Invisible when there is mist or there’s fog,
And the brightness not there to retain.
Dark as the evening turns quickly to night,
Clear as the stars twinkle bright,
The moon clearly visible out into space,
Until dawn takes the place of the night.
The dawn is occurring in the early hours,
Determines what colour we’ll think,
Cloudy and grey? yellow orange and bright?
Or beautiful shades of deep pink?
Birds forming the picture, the background the frame,
The horizon lit up like a lamp,
Cos under its spell cast o’er fields and hills,
The walkers are starting to tramp.
If warm enough night-time spent under the stars,
If not, in a bag in a tent,
Awaiting the line to  appear the next day,
Confused where the former day went.
It may be encouraging, maybe it won’t,
Set sail based on what it suggests,
Warm heat or quite cloudy or thunder and rain,
Our decision on what to do rests.
Sometimes grey and dingy while other times clear,
Looking up, make out symbols up high,
It’s never our judge or our jury,
But look up and our guide is the sky.

Details | Richard Tipping Poem

No Homework

I’m sorry I’ve no homework,
But it’s really not my fault,
I tried hard all last week to do it,
But got such a jolt!
Sat down to do my homework,
It was history that day,
The theme was myths and legends,
From that theme I couldn’t stray,
A Phoenix came and asked me,
If my work was good to go,
And when I said it’s incomplete,
Said blame it on dodo.
Then next day was biology,
Got help from talking horse,
He helped me with my homework,
Wanted no credit, of course.
He took my pencil in his hoof,
His writing’s not the best,
Perhaps that is the reason,
That I scored low in the test.
And next was mathematics,
Old Pythagorus sat down,
He said I couldn’t do my work,
Must take him in to town. 
He asked for guidance round the streets,
With tape measure and spares,
I wondered why the tour we went,
Did visit all the squares!
So sorry that I can’t submit,
The work that you have set,
Mine aren’t some lame excuses,
That the others use, I bet.
I can’t hand in my homework,
I was just about to do,
But then a flaming pterodactyl,
Ate my homework too!

26 January 2021