Tag Archives: Gary Death

Gary Death by Poetry

“It was undoubtedly the poetry that killed him.” So said Edgar Melon Foe, the infamous blind poet of Hopeless, Maine.

(It is to be noted that Infamous Blind Poet of Hopeless, Maine, is Edgar Melon Foe’s official title at this time.)

Sources close to the recently departed Mr Gary Death have suggested to me that it might have been because he recently tried to set up a rival poetry event. Or it might have been because of the satirical pamphlet he printed last month. All three copies of it, because that was all the paper I could spare him. Perhaps it was his insistence on driving rhythms and the use of rhyme, suggested another observer who wished to remain anonymous. Edgar Melon Foe supports unstructured, free verse and is staunchly opposed to anything that smacks of traditionalism.

I have always said that it is better if what goes on between poets, stays between poets. It seems that most of the island agrees with me, as in the days since Gary Death’s death, Edgar Melon Foe has continued unimpeded in his business. I can’t say I’m surprised – although it seems to bother the newcomers. This island has a fine tradition of treating murder as a personal, private sort of matter so long as a person doesn’t make too much of a habit of it. And while Edgar Melon Foe has smacked a few people around the head with his cane, he usually considers it sufficient to cause a few bruises.

Gary was, on the whole, quite a popular islander and his humour and helpful inclinations will be much missed. But not missed sufficiently for anyone to consider a revenge attack, by the looks of things.

It seems fitting to end this obituary with the elegy written by Edgar Melon Foe who insisted I also mention that the elegy is a specific poetic form that he has entirely ignored.

I did not like him

He is gone

We do not need poetry obsessed with rhythm

And I find rhymes annoying.

Free verse triumphs again.

Because sometimes the cane is mightier than the pen

And you have to stand up

For what you believe in.

I was merely the instrument of fate.

The hand of the universe.

It was undoubtedly the poetry that killed him.

 

Gary Death brought this upon himself by being an early bird funder of the Hopeless Maine kickstarter. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/countrostov/tales-of-hopeless-maine

Those of you who have been following the Vendetta for a while may recall that Gary wrote us a poem about the blind poet of Hopeless, Maine… https://hopelessvendetta.wordpress.com/2018/06/08/the-blind-poet/ 

Advertisements

The Blind Poet

The Blind Poet
Hopeless, Maine
If only you could see it.
Through the mist bursts forth the ferry’s bow.
No flicker of a smile, without hesitation or concern he steps confidently ashore.
The Blind Poet has arrived.
Carving visual thoughts through orange glowing streets he pauses to reflect on heady days of old.
The gambling, the addiction all now conflicting into each stride taken in this new location.
The black cane, the stick a weapon or an aid to defend or project for safety or status.
All of these are debatable.
He trusts no-one.

Once well-read ‘til his eyes swelled and bled, those secrets kept deep within his head – tilts to listen for footsteps on the wet cobbled stones….he waits for news.
Memory holds many chambers of hope, love, regrets and pain.
He knows that her beauty will never be seen again.
But maybe…
The voice a touch can rekindle a flame on this misty evening in Hopeless, Maine.

Galleries of oil paintings, landscapes of old forest trees.
Sitting viewing, holding hands.
All spin through his ageing head.
The good days the easy times.
Thoughts of warmth wrap themselves around him tonight in the lampposts’ glow.
A seagull cry breaks the silence and thoughts of the past.
Echoes of steps drawing nearer and nearer fill the quay side street.

Words by Gary Death

Art by Tom and Nimue Brown.

To be continued.