Showing posts with label goodbye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goodbye. Show all posts

Kate

When discussing women who can change the world
I would be remiss not to mention this girl.
She is witty, bold and beautiful. She loves debates.
You can keep your Catherine, it’s Kate that’s great.

Optimistic to the point of rebelliousness,
she brings out the best in the worst of us.
She is naughty and notorious, not B.I.G at all;
a pocket-sized and perfectly formed know-it-all.
She puts effort in the details, so you’d better pay attention
or you’ll miss the little touches that betray strength of affection.

We went for a quick coffee the first time we met
which stretched into hours, days, months and a set
of brand new wrinkles for my happy-creased face
which deepen every time we talk, ‘cause she’s ace.

Some people have suggested she has bats in her belfry
But I reckon she should be on Made in Chelsea.
Is that it, Kate? Is your secret out?
Is that what moving away’s all about?
Are you trading in Alex, Chris, Ed, Beth and Jo
for Binky, afternoon tea and prosecco?

All joking aside, I know we all wish you the best
and support your decision ‘bout what to do with the rest
of your life. You’ve adventures ahead
and you can always come back, when all’s said
and done. This island has open arms.
We’ve all fallen under the spell of your charms;
of your perfect diction, your painful puns,
and your clues for quizzes that leave people stumped.

You stand five foot eight (in your seven inch heels)
but we’re eye to eye on the issues that are real.
Shine your light in dark places, start the conversation.
Don’t accept pauses, repetition, deviation.
In the game of life you’ll find that no one has a clue
so you just have to do what’s right for you.

As a mark of respect from the Empire of Whimsy
I hereby grant right of indefinite entry.
(I’m hoping she’ll reciprocate, I must confess.
Her micronation’s spelled: [are you ready?]
N E T H E R L A N D S)

One last thing, Kate, you’d better keep a blog
so I can keep up to date with you and Frank the Dog.


Destined for greatness and determined to achieve,
I will shed my tears privately when you leave.
You’re not just cool, you’re cool-cool-cool.
You’re a credit to your parents, your island and your school.

You’re a treasured-ever friend of the rarest sort,

so go – explore – conquer – and report.

                                                                                                                                                   

I was lucky enough to meet award-winning journalist and all round wondrous soul Kate Holland through poetry work, friend connections and the general magic of the island around about this time last year.

 She has been working at Manx Radio presenting the Women Today program along with Beth Espey and Jo Pack for the last year. She has now decided to fly this little island nest. Today was her last day and as a surprise, a secret show was planned. I wrote and performed the above for her.  

Love you Kate. Have a magnificent time. 
Xxxx

Magpie

All week long I saw them.
Those portents gleaming, squawking,
hopping, cocked head, taunting,
“Sorrow! Sorrow!”; giving warning.

Well dressed spectres perching trite
on ghoulish glamour of foresight
from watchful beads. Their message might
be overlooked, taken light

-ly. I mistook their solo missions
as personally guided acts of attrition
and didn’t realize what they were bringing
was the precious gift of premonition.

Now I replay my memories and lessons impart
-ed by you, my husband’s family’s matriarch.
Luminous lady now journeying in to dark
with no map or signs. No official chart.

Are those monochromatic couriers guiding
the Valkyries with whom you’re riding?
Battles corporeal you fought inspiring
-ly with bravery unretiring.

If the piebald post can pass their notes from Future into Past
Can missives slip between the cracks of the Living and the Passed?
And if only one can get through to you
out of the endless many
let it be this truth you’ve heard a million times:

“Ciao, Tesoro. Ti voglio bene”.


In memoriam of Luciana Pavia. 4th October 1940 - 20th January 2015