Skip to main content

NEW YEAR'S POEM BY IRISH POET KEVIN HIGGINS

On A Prodigious Philanthropist’s Ghastly Second Death  
after Bernie Taupin

Goodbye your shiny tracksuits,
though I never saw one unzipped.
They had the grace to hide your bits;
while those around you fawned;
made you Knight Bachelor -
for charitable services. Then had
your granite headstone
goodness gracious dismantled
and sent to landfill
near Skipton.

And it seems to me you lived
your life as it happens
giving love to children,
you picked up in various hospitals,
in the back of your silver Rolls Royce.
Never knowing when Mary Whitehouse
might give you an award
for services to family friendly TV,
and you’d be forced
to wind the window down
to accept it. And I would
have liked to know you
but I was just a kid.
Your cigar burnt out long before
I ever got to smoke it.

Their jealousy towards you odious.
Not everyone can be a crony of
both Margaret Thatcher and
Cardinal Basil Hume.
The University of Leeds gave you
how’s about that, then an honorary
doctorate of law. And pain
was the price they paid.
Even when you died, pundits
whispered behind fists,
when the microphone was safely off,
that Jimmy was found now then, now then
with his mitts up a girl’s dress.

Goodbye England’s shiny tracksuit,
though I never got to look inside you,
from the boy watching
Top of The Pops, Christmas 1976,
who sees you as something more than sexual
more than just our Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile,
Order of the British Empire.

And it seems to me you lived
your life as it happens fixing children,
you got from various hospitals,
in the back of your silver Rolls.
Never knowing when Tony
Blair might invite you to dine at Chequers.
I would have liked to know
you but guys and gals I was just a kid.
And pain was the price they paid.

POEM COPYRIGHT KEVIN HIGGINS 2014


Kevin Higgins facilitates poetry workshops at Galway Arts Centre and teaches creative writing at Galway Technical Institute. He is also Writer-in-Residence at Merlin Park Hospital and the poetry critic of the Galway Advertiser. His first collection of poems The Boy With No Face was published by Salmon in February 2005 and was short-listed for the 2006 Strong Award. His second collection, Time Gentlemen, Please, was published in March 2008 by Salmon.  The Ghost In The Lobby is Kevin’s fourth collection of poetry will be launched early Spring 2014.

Himself

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

CLIVE WILMER'S THOM GUNN SELECTED POEMS IS A MUST-READ

THAT HANDSOME MAN  A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought.  Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart?  A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional.  Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were.  For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ?  Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets.  But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ?  How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular.  John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se.  What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and  Silence of the Lambs .  I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".