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
as I sat by my typewriter
climbed in my window,
I was writing a poem
a very interesting little poem
about a flower that I'd seen
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
REST IN PEACE OUR DEAR POET FRIEND!