Images
Black leather jacket, a hooded crow
claws at his shoulder: his stare
is unrepentant, expects no rebuke:
He was as I anticipated:
I am aware of his fame, his shrouded history;
we are craftsmen together, together
on London's Royal Mall by happenstance.
Well, we must be what we are, make
what genes and nurture have made of us
with quirky tweaking of our private will—
That was ages and oceans ago: now
his portrait, dared fated poet, stares:
I have no word of praise or reproof,
accept that talent makes strange demands,
may make savage, unforgiving demands.
25 March 2009
Dennis: A poem for Ted Hughes, catalyzed by an article in The Daily News, 25 March, p.13
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