The poetry of my youth – Part 2:

I’ve managed to dig out some more poems from yesteryear. And it’s fascinating looking back. Francis Rossi OBE from the musical phenomenon that is Status Quo (often referred to as The Quo or simply, Quo) says in his fantastic book that listening back to the things he wrote in his youth is ‘like looking, for the first time, at the engine of a car you’ve driven for 50 years’. Well, as I’ve said many times before in different contexts, if it’s good enough for Francis Rossi OBE, it’s good enough for me

This I think was again the result of a skipped meal. It’s genuinely startling to look back and imagine what was going through my head at this point. It’s the closest thing to a ‘trip’ I’ve ever had. Never again. I’ve got toad in the hole in the oven as I type. I simply do not miss meals… I can’t emphasise that enough.  But then isn’t art a worthy cause for this kind of sacrifice? It’s a good question. This poem did, after all, help me to win South-West Kent New Poet of the Year in 1997. So to some extent, the proof is in the pudding in this case. Although obviously I didn’t eat any pudding either!

Time (By Malcolm Head)

Time….

Time is up. Time to leave…

Time at the bar please…

It’s time for you to move on, move out…

Time is ticking away; the time has come…

Time of death – 8:45

Tea-time? Or supper-time? Dinner-time will do!

What is the time?

Time you bought a watch!

Time to get up. Time for school…

Time for work, time and a half…

Is time running out?

Only time will tell…

TIME… TIME… TIME…

Incidentally, I originally wrote the third time in such large letters that there was no room for the ‘e’, so it actually read ‘Tim’. One of the other members of Poetic justice was called Tim so I’m not sure whether or not this was anything to do with him. My memory of this period is so hazy. I did consider contacting Tim but he’s in the army now, so I imagine he’s got enough on his plate as it is

Best

M