Very saddened by the news of the death of Dannie Abse, one of Britain's greatest poets. A marvelous man. I spent a lot of time with him in Greece, Czechoslovakia and Sweden, and visited him at his home in North London on many happy and memorable occasions.
A poem Dannie wrote after his visit to Sweden:
Blond Boys
In Stockholm
I saw my first shy love hobble by
hand in hand with her small blond grandson.
Eva Jones, remember me?
My acne. Your dimples.
When you rode your important Raleigh
bike
to school, your skirt high,
I held my breath.
With heroic intensity of a 15 year old,
dared by you, I climbed the glass-crowned wall
and stole Mrs Humphreys' summer apples.
Oh the forever of an August Sunday evening
when near the back door's delinquent scent
of honeysuckle, forehead to forehead
I searched your searching eyes.
All the next week similitudes of love,
the jailer of reason,
until plain as the prose of a synopsis,
you bluntly said (with impressive sighs)
'You have a beautiful classy mind
but I find you physically unattractive -
and I prefer, um, blond boys besides.'
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