New Year’s Greetings from the Bad Poets’ Society

In the mid-nineties, I began a poetry cycle ominously entitled “Lamentations”. It contains all of three poems. I guess one could form the conclusion that I’ve never had much to cry about. However that may be, the first poem is called “Eulogy”. It began its life in September of 1995 and is dedicated to “J.B.” What I find interesting is that I literally wrote it on the spur of the moment, didn’t bother to edit it at all -as evidenced by a grammatical error- and yet, even today every line rings true. The occasion was the sudden and tragic death of actor Jeremy Brett, who remains the one true Sherlock Holmes to me, but astute observers may notice that with a mere few changes in wording, it would be equally fitting to an equally sudden and tragic loss only four years later. I’ve left it in the slightly odd formatting that comes from being crammed into a tiny notebook.


You never knew me, and yet it

feels as if I’d lost a friend

Your face was so familiar…

I wish I could have told you somehow;

there was so much life

Though half of you was fictional

Thank you for being special enough

To make me cry for the death of a stranger

Maybe you know, maybe one day,

Someday, I can say it myself

Till then you hold my hand as they

Scatter your ashes.

Each tiny particle containing a grief unexpressed,

Misunderstood, because “what were you to me but an actor”

Just let me say that your sparkle wasn’t lost on me

It’s still here, I can feel it

Almost touch it…

Thank you


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