Saturday, 23 November 2024

John Prescott – d. November 20th 2024

I want to live and die a socialist,
and at sea; cabin boy on a ship
of principles, a bristling steamboat
from another time, its first mate
hoisting the old red ensign high.

Vic Flick – d. November 14th 2024

Let me fade the rest of the mix,
silence Dusty, Sandy, Shirley,
leave spangles of six-string light,
glints of joy and menace, hit or
miss, a bullet in every riff. 

J Saul Kane – d. July 12th 2024

I inject music into my enemy;
deadly venom and samples,
spikes of snare, sex, spaghetti
and a bass so deep it may not
kill you today but one day wi
ll.

Peter Sinfield – d. November 14th 2024

I saw prog and through its disguise, and yet,
above bloat and bombast, your dark literacy;
phantasies of neurosurgeons, jesters, prison
moons, adolescence painted crimson, black.
 

Shel Talmy - d. November 13th 2024

A band plays while a man polishes
their dirt into coal into diamonds.
Good times come and go, leaving
the sound of London youth melted
and pressed into incendiary vinyl.
 

Brian Maxine – d. November 13th 2024

To climb into the ring, you must be the king
of something, even if it is only yourself.
You must wear the belt as if it were gold,
tilt your broken face to the sky, neckless,
defiant, like you were the last of the line. 

Timothy West – d. November 12th 2024

Talk straight to us in words
chiselled from millstone grit.
Speak to crowd and camera
of hard times and heydays.
Gild with bluster and brass,
all eyebrows and uppishness.

June Spencer- d. November 8th 2024

A village fades from the map.
Farms fall fallow; all that remains
are the bruised-apple accents of
those who have lived here forever,
days moving so slowly they can
only be lived by the quarter-hour.

Quincy Jones – d. November 3rd 2024

To be that vital, that permanent,
the slender thread braiding sweet
and swing and stomp and screen,
in good company and bad, always
beating out your own signature. 

Janey Godley – d. November 2nd 2024

The hard silence after a joke is proof
that there are fates worse than death.
Some can deliver the comedy of truth,
be sharp and blunt in the same breath. 

Teri Garr - d. October 29th 2024

The set drips with egos; leading men,
all elbows, fight over the best lines.
You trust your magnetism, and say
vould you like to have a roll in ze hay?
Not bright enough for some, but then
not every star owns their own shine.

Jack Jones – d. October 23rd 2024

It is embarkation time for a man
dark in the shadows of vaudeville.
A choir of wives and lovers sing
dressed in the silk of his voice,
not one hair or note out of place:
Come aboard. We’re expecting you’. 

Geoff Capes – d. October 23rd 2024

I recall those ham-boned coppers
and firemen hauling the deadweight
of the 70s from a moribund Olympia
to a kind of glamour, provincial Atlases,
straining to lift us high above their heads.

Jim McColl - d. October 22nd 2024

Up here in our northern clime
we are the soil that we grow in,
our histories a ripening mulch.
We learn how to dig from such
as you; how words are a sowing,
how gardens measure our time.

Toshiyuki Nishida – d. October 17th 2024

In the worlds before teenage,
chaos reigned; elemental forces
caused this child to journey east
in a band of badly dubbed beasts.
What I learned from such stories:
that a pig is a pig in any language. 

Mitzi Gaynor – d. October 17th 2024

There are no showgirls now;
they have all been washed away
into the storm drains of Tinseltown,
set adrift on an ocean, clinging
to a raft of what might have been. 

Liam Payne – d. October 16th 2024

The world knows all the songs you know,
and more. It hides their scores in distant
places; some seek a tune only to find it
crumbling into a handful of bum notes,
mistimed cues and sad, sad silences. 

Read about Liam Payne here

Philip Zimbardo – d. October 14th 2024

Your line takes more than it is given
My line has made itself a prison
Your line assumes its own authority
My line has been sent to solitary
Your line knows we must be punished
My line is an experiment, unfinished. 

Alex Salmond – d. October 12th 2024

The light dims out on the margins,
where some throw in their lot
with the dubiously charismatic,
the caustic and the convicted,
with those who believe that
two Noes sometimes make a Yes.

 

Ron Ely – d. September 29th 2024

I found your Fortress of Solitude,
empty save a note in bronze ink
identifying a southern latitude
where trees are pulped to make
comic books, and you are a king.