Tag Archives: memories

The last time I saw Roy

The last time I saw Roy

It might’ve been the last time I saw him

That trip up north along the coast,

At least at points inevitably so.

And in all its vagueness surely,

It’s still further shrouded by that doubt,

That almost disbelief:

Surely there was at least one time other.

But if there was, the memory’s withholding

Insistent upon the poetry of this –

The final memory,

The beauty and the beast.

I never cried on hearing he had passed

But stopped to think a thousand thoughts

A thousand reasons

Why our paths

They should have crossed.

But we didn’t know each other

And though I bow to some intended whisper

The wind is only pandering to

My own instilled importance.

We had become nothing to each other,

Just echoes of other worlds

That perhaps we’d wished we had explored.

© The Hairy Teacher, 22:27. 14/5/22, Az erkélyen, Bölöni György utcában, Budapesten.

A Place Called Grange

A Place Called Grange

Through the veil of a vague remembrance
something tries to shine distinctly
Something claims the honour of
being remembered beyond the pale.
And whether truth or wishful thinking
it vies for recognition
And whether relevant to a fact
it remains relevant to us all.
It is not the collective notion
of a notion of our past
Nor the romanticised rebellion
in delusion against the truth
It is rather just a memory
mixed and mattered by circumstance
For it is our pain and how
we each deal with it in the end.

© The Hairy Teacher, April 12 (Easter Sunday), 2020

Puskin played his part Why not I?

Puskin played his part Why not I?

That I May yet across a summer glade brooding 

Imagine love true love through my boyish vision 

And yet may I remember it hence 

At a time this time of writing 

With the clarity that would as it was passing now. 

That I May yet paint a picture truly 

Not guided by a dream not dreamed but stolen 

That I may figure such words as love 

From a canvas freshly met and at points still dripping. 

That I May yet open up to my losses 

Counting them fairly not feigning to carefree 

That I may recognize each moment’s worth 

Or accept that at times I could have done and more bravely. 

© The Hairy Teacher, October 31st, 2019.

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