The Remarkable Maurice Rutherford I am pleased to call my friend of many years.
The start of this love fest was a slim volume of his wonderful poetry dropping un-announced on my doormat with a note from him in his wonderful handwriting to a fellow Hullite. “Poetry not selling like hot cakes. Please enjoy.”
The first one I read made me laugh out loud. The second made me weep. I rang him within an hour and our friendship was born. Later I read a selection of my favourites on Humberside Radio with Maurizio on the other side of the studio glass wiping a tear. He reads them much better.
A great writer makes you feel that you could have written what you have just read because that’s exactly what you feel if only you had thought of it.
A great writer of wit will lead you down the garden path and not reveal the quick reverse to come.
A great writer of poetry shows you his heart of truth.
Maurice does all this. I love him.
John Alderton, August 2016
Here is the poem I'd like to share:-
When I am dead, my dearest
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
Poem posted Sunday 21st August.