Snowdrops and a Knysna Lorie : for Jeannie Righton.

Jeannie was on holiday in her beloved South Africa when she died. This poem is for her, and for all of Jeannie’s loved ones. The world is a poorer place for the loss of her laughter and her kindness. We will miss her very much.

Here in West Wales

The snowdrops cluster

Daffodils dance in the soft breathed wind

Iris flag the impending spring

But for us, just now,

Such delight is delayed,

As grim news from abroad

Leaves us dulled, dismayed.

For life’s been robbed from you

So swift, so shocking

Leaving hearts and minds

Reeling

Rocking.

The ski slopes of Verbier and Andorra

Must be muffled today

The snow subdued, the skis slowed.

In Islington the market lessened.

The chef’s pots and pans slackened.

In Castle Cary the golden stone street is a little less burnished.

And you,

Rest gently under your beloved South African skies.

You may sleep now

Sweet, deep and let it be

Untroubled.

As an iridescent, green crested bird

Scarlet wingtipped

Skyflung flies.

Knysna Lorie calling

It’s song, unwittingly,

one of mourning.

Splitting the sunrise

Startling the dawning.

In life

In death

There’s nothing new under the sun.

But a dark cloud

smudges the spring light today.

Pealing laughter stilled.

The Scrabble board spells Sorrow.

The crossword stays undone.

For Jeannie’s gone.

Our Jeannie’s gone.

Sadly so,

All our stories too

Must end.

But on this day

Let us say…

Go Well Friend.

Go Well Friend.

A reading of a poem I wrote early last summer. The Great Virtues…

Like millions across the UK I’ve watched and been incredibly moved by the programme Mr Bates and The Post Office.

This poem – The Great Virtues ( reflections on leadership) was written in early summer 2023.

I don’t generally write political/angry stuff but I’ve increasingly found myself feeling cross, disappointed, frustrated and sometimes appalled by the behaviour, attitudes, lack of compassion and downright contempt that a number of our “leaders” demonstrate towards the public at large.

I hope this might strike a chord with you. If so and you’d like to share it, I’d be honoured.

Greetings and thanks for reading/listening.

Take care out there.

I’m sorry, I missed you. For Camilla

I was sad to hear of the death of Benjamin Zephaniah, whilst listening to the radio yesterday evening. Later, just before heading for bed, I read a message from the daughter of a great friend, telling me that Camilla had died the night before.

Camilla ( Tegg) was an inspiration to me – along with Joan, and a diverse and delightful group of colleagues, the Tuklo Orenda team – and I learned a great deal from her.

And she was a mighty fine friend.

An abiding memory is of our going to see The Blind Boys of Alabama some years back. And of a long car journey home from working in Derby with Mr Scruff on the CD player.

We’d been hoping to meet up but now that chance is gone.

This poem is for her, for her family and for her friends- and for the many people who benefitted from Camilla’s wisdom and wit, in her work with Tuklo Orenda, and so much more besides.

Rest well friend.

I wrote your Christmas card today

My friend

Sending love from Wild West Wales

A little news

An apology for not getting to London

This side of the year

But planning to see you soon in the next

So we could talk

Reminisce

Share views

And, if there was but time enough

Spin a slice of Mr Scruff.

But then

Late evening

The message came

Through the ether

To say you’d died last night

Taken flight.

Calmly, without fear.

The same day took Benjamin Zephaniah

A poet, a man with who I’m sure you’d much to share.

Both of you

People of love, of kindness

Big hearted and bold

Speaking truth to power

Championing equality

Valuing justice

But also knowing

Anger, fire.

I hope somehow you might find yourselves

Hitched to the same bright burning star

And let the soundtrack be

The Blind Boys of Alabama.

Here in Pembrokeshire, the wind

Westwards sighs a tear

But you are already flung afar.

I wrote your Christmas card today

Dear friend

Now it lies, table topped,

Redundant.

A message

(And for this I am so very sorry

Regretful, vexed)

That

I’ll never get

To send.

7/12/2023.