You said the hare came and went
unafraid into your garden*
loitered
never seemed to stay long
checked you out
and the lay of the land
then in your words – scampered off again
perhaps one day never to return
a bit like life
you said
transient
often hinted at in your poems
those
gentle meteorites whizzing through
the night
words from the electric minstrel
burning up before reaching the earth
yet comets going straight to the heart
your poems after you quit the ‘Mersey Circus’
were all Red Brick beauty
we didn’t need a Degree to understand
they were the language of the people on the
street
speaking about experiences we understood
The Dream Exchange
reflections like a pram load of wisdom on the
way back to the pawn shop
the endless terrace houses like bum notes
on a piano – covered in soot
making their way down to the Mersey
well scrubbed dreams left on the door stops
the future arriving with the giro
to spend on booze and Cinderella at night
we read line by line your poems
without a writers’ group in a drafty
after hours classroom
where the local scholar tried to teach us writing
and
how to ram raid the imagination for a good line
Instead we were
turning the pages of Notes To The Hurrying Man
we were infused with
inspiration
carried skyward as if by magic
Blasted up
like the Metropolitan Cathedral
with booster rockets
your writing gift beyond Prizes
will never burn out
you will be missed…
perhaps once more walking past the Cavern
we will hear you recite
The Greatest Hits – Little Johnny’s Confession
you were Byron with whipped cream hair
making us feel our world had meaning
puffing on a fag
Polaroid poems snapshot reality
shipwrecked in yesterday’s Chinese takeaway
ashtrays overflowing like football turnstiles
beauty so much more than a dentist’s painting
on a surgery wall
a tea towel from Devon
a cosy from Rhyl
beauty toppling back from the pub
singing Pop songs
somebody waiting up for you
your legacy will be carried on from every
new poem ever written by those who loved you
what you wrote
will be In the poets’ DNA
we learned our craft from you Brian
I reckon the hare will always keep coming
back
unafraid
just for one more look…
Malcolm Paul
* The last email I received from you. 2024.
Malcolm Paul
.