1 (edited by Peatle Jville 2021-04-11 22:41:53)

Topic: Malcom

This is a poem I wrote about a friend and old neighbour of my mother and someone who my sister regularly went to lunch with, who I knew and talked with a little bit. I wrote it when I wasn't very well and unable to attend his funeral so I watched it on live stream.  Rather than have this poem never seen by anyone and have it disappear I decided I would put it on here.  There were only twenty people at his funeral. He was a person who did alot for tram and rail societies in our area of NZ. He had some strange quirks and collected and hoarded a huge amount around his interest which have now being gratefully accepted my museums. He had this strange quirk every time  he brought a book or magazine or anything with public transport he would buy two,  one to use and one never to be opened or used and put in his collection in their packets unopened. Sometimes I think I know people when I don't. At his funeral they spoke about his many talents and aspects of his life that many including me  didn't know about.


I’m watching your funeral on live stream.

Sorry I couldn’t be there on the team.

My heads a mess.

I’m not that well dressed.

The meds putting me to the test.

Your life story is talked about.

On a screen in front of me.

I see your coffin.

I say thank God that’s not me.

The computer feels like I’m watching TV.

This reality its you not me.

The speaker making up the trinity.

I thought I knew your life.

You were sort of strange never found a wife.

To share your life.

Trains , buses, trams, steam engines fascinated you.

Public transport a passion for you.

I  know  it’s not true.

Many things I thought of you.

Your life was more and you paid your dues.

I’m feeling confused.

Wondering why you never made the news.

Right click computer camera turns around.

Not many people sitting in the pews.

After I will have a cup of tea.

I don’t think I will turn on the radio or TV.

It’s all bad news.

Don’t need a world view.

Just want to know about a few who do what they do.

That lady  saying Malcom I love you.

I wish the world had more people like you.

They carry you out.

They empty the pews.

I thank God I learnt something new.

I’m drinking tea with my Maree.

I’m talking of you.

With  a different point of view.

My feet hit the bathroom floor.

I have a shave.

I had my little private rave.

I got to face the day.

Get dressed up.

Go for a walk.

I pace it away.

Sun on my face

To clear my head and make my day.

Wondering If I will ever see you Malcom.

On some other day.

An ambulance flies past.

I’m glad its not for me.

Will I see you in eternity.

Re: Malcom

Very poignant Pedr. No one should pass un-noticed that's why I hate war and guns in general, thousands of lives lost, The generals say a few practiced sentiments and the family left to mourn, then told to pull themselves together. I know Malcom didn't die in those circumstances but your poem puts me in mind of that human abomination.

Your poem is  so heartfelt and once again describes superbly the loss felt by his nearest and dearest.

Ask not what Chordie can do for you, but what you can do for Chordie.

Re: Malcom


So heartfelt with raw emotion. He would be so fortunate to call you a friend.
Hopefully we will all meet someday.

That was a fine tribute.

Cheers to you and Malcom !


p.s. - I quite agree with Phill     

Your vision is not limited by what your eye can see, but what your mind can imagine.
Make your life count, and the world will be a better place because you tried.

"Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except only the the best." - Henry Van Dyke

Re: Malcom

Cheers Piri and Hemi  thank you  for your good comments.  Jim , Hemi is your name in our local indigenous language.
All the best to you guys.
Pedr (my name in Welsh)