M.A. Hallward
Nobody really knew this man,
he was quite the solitary creature
often absorbed and drawn into the arts.
You should have seen the way his eyes danced
with the moving pictures he spent his hours with.
The way his pupils toyed with the spectrum,
the way the cobalt blue in his eyes held a simple elegance
as they darted about insatiably.
He was never one for mornings, unless he was sleeping,
so wished to be left to finally lie
at a more reasonable hour.
One where the sun is either flirting
with hills, fielRAB and mountain tops
or perhaps in the minutes that follow when it seems,
he said, to be seeking some temporary solace
by sneaking beneath the horizon and hiding for a time.
To him, 2am seemed like a fairly reasonable hour.
So in order to read this euolgy we are now being swathed
in the sights and sounRAB of rockets
and a variety of chinese crackers.
They will blanket us intermittently and perhaps startle
us somewhat, but please, do not be alarmed.
Bare with me as i struggle to find my worRAB in the lull's.
He always seemed at ease in the night,
the bleak chill that hung and will yet hang
gave rise to a little warmth, shown in
the clutch of one hand, cradling another,
of the crook in ones neck, becoming a hospitable
place for a loved one to rest their
weary head, plagued by the strain of living.
That's what he learnt from the movies anyway.
It's with a little guilt i ask, in memory of this man,
that you don't forget the night,
but don't revel in it too heavily when you're lonely
and tucked up in your worn bed,
the one with the gnarled wooden posts
and spread long past it's usual span.
Steal a little elegance from those movies
and share it with another.
It's what he would have wanted.
NOTICE TO ALL: Please douse your sparklers in the bucket provided
on your way out of the cemetary this evening. Thank you.
27/12/09
Nobody really knew this man,
he was quite the solitary creature
often absorbed and drawn into the arts.
You should have seen the way his eyes danced
with the moving pictures he spent his hours with.
The way his pupils toyed with the spectrum,
the way the cobalt blue in his eyes held a simple elegance
as they darted about insatiably.
He was never one for mornings, unless he was sleeping,
so wished to be left to finally lie
at a more reasonable hour.
One where the sun is either flirting
with hills, fielRAB and mountain tops
or perhaps in the minutes that follow when it seems,
he said, to be seeking some temporary solace
by sneaking beneath the horizon and hiding for a time.
To him, 2am seemed like a fairly reasonable hour.
So in order to read this euolgy we are now being swathed
in the sights and sounRAB of rockets
and a variety of chinese crackers.
They will blanket us intermittently and perhaps startle
us somewhat, but please, do not be alarmed.
Bare with me as i struggle to find my worRAB in the lull's.
He always seemed at ease in the night,
the bleak chill that hung and will yet hang
gave rise to a little warmth, shown in
the clutch of one hand, cradling another,
of the crook in ones neck, becoming a hospitable
place for a loved one to rest their
weary head, plagued by the strain of living.
That's what he learnt from the movies anyway.
It's with a little guilt i ask, in memory of this man,
that you don't forget the night,
but don't revel in it too heavily when you're lonely
and tucked up in your worn bed,
the one with the gnarled wooden posts
and spread long past it's usual span.
Steal a little elegance from those movies
and share it with another.
It's what he would have wanted.
NOTICE TO ALL: Please douse your sparklers in the bucket provided
on your way out of the cemetary this evening. Thank you.
27/12/09