Funeral of a Dead Good Poet
When your light had gone
we came to see you off
at the great red sand stone edifice
battered by a bitter wind
and cold as death inside
the mock gothic vaulted cavernous space
echoed with appropriately poetic words
as poet followed writer followed poet
with tales of a life lived large
eulogy for a fat boy bullied
but creative and curious
who wanted to paint everything
even the paving slabs in Canning Street
who believed that communication was bigger
than the limitations of language
A trumpeter played a muted blues
the last jazz rites
and I thought of angry young men
rule breakers and risk takers
a generation who were among the first
to say "fuck you"
only eloquently
I misread the programme and could have sworn
"commendation" read "comedian"
one wouldn't have been out of place
as top turn after top turn read or played or sang
I wasn't the only one of the capacity crowd
who felt a desire to applaud
Roger McGough reminded us that Dylan Thomas begged us
not to go quietly when our light goes
I came away feeling
like I always do after a funeral
that they are not for the dead
nor about death
but for the living
and about life
more ........