The Clutha And Poet John McGarrigle.

a poem by William Willis, Scotland

I am sure that by now everyone will have heard the tragic news of the Police helicopter crashing onto the roof of the Clutha pub in Glasgow. My thoughts are with all those affected by this tragedy.

One of the poor souls who perished was a man by the name of John McGarrigle (59). A Dad of three from a small town just outside Glasgow called Cumbernauld. It has been ascertained that John was a very keen poet and as well as being a regular in The Clutha, John would attend poetry nights in the nearby The Scotia pub, just across the road.

It has been said that these places were much more than a place you would go for a pint, for they formed an institution, an oasis of poetry, music, debate, banter and laughter.

I have read that John McGarrigle didn't have an easy life, but he was much loved and lived his life with energy.

I take this opporunity to share his talent on these pages Voices Net.

John was sitting at his usual table in The Clutha, when the helicopter crashed.

I did not know him personally, however as a tribute to him, I would like to showcase his talent, realism and wit on these pages.

**Two of John McGarrigle's poems from his little book, Glasgow's McGarrigle. Fat Cat Publications, ISBN 187 1009 014**

POEM 1- Old Young Man

Unemployment. Rising prices

Never bothered me before

Now, struggling for subsistance

I slowly realised my wasted years

steeped in ignorance

The brashness of youth has gone

Leaving behind an emptiness

not easy to define

Old before my time

I yearn for contentment

Where has the young lad gone

That angry young man

That shook his fist in careless anger

At any unfair society?

Shall we ever see him again


POEM 2- Write Nice Things

last night

as I sat by my typewriter

a junkie

climbed in my window,

I was writing a poem

a very interesting little poem

about a flower that I'd seen

that day,

the junkie battered my wife

stole all of our money

and when he left

took with him

my television set

and my hi fi unit,

this unfortunate little incident

rather disturbed me

it really put me off writing

my little poem

about the birds and bees

and the flower that I'd seen

so, I wrote about the wind and the trees



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