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Clive James (1939-2019) was an Australian author, critic, broadcaster and poet, best known for his autobiographical series Unreliable Memoirs, his chat shows on British television and his prolific journalism. He contributed several original poems to the New Statesman.
“though I grow so weak / I can no longer see, the flowers will speak / Their language, which is time made visible”
A new poem by Clive James.
To have seen at least part of a time when popular entertainment has become so substantial is a great privilege, and I bless it without reserve.
“From here my ashes go back to the sea / And take my memories of every friend / And love, and anything still dear to me.”
“And though sometimes the weather is extreme / It seems no more so than when we were young. . .”
I wonder if they still are, wonder why, / While barely knowing a blue tit from a bullfinch, / I’m so stuck on old military hardware.
He made his name / From being bulletproof.