Hats off to John Agard, and also the Poet Laureate, who recommended he win, the Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry 2012. Britain's highest honour for a poet (other than the laureateship) most of the greats have won it. Agard is only the second black poet to be given the award - a too-small number - so this is about-time time, but let that not be the whole story - Agard is an excellent poet for adults and children, a progressive figure, and a superb performer of his work - in short an inspiration for many.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
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