Dido, I read his obit' in the paper yesterday.

Here is a link that might be useful: Vernon Scannell

I think his poetry is very much underrated - he always has something to tell us about human experience in simple lyrical language (rather like Causley who also died fairly recently)
something that tells each one of us that we are not alone - our fears, anxieties, experiences are shared by others - a bandage of comfort for our pains and always relevant:

The Terrible Abstractions

The naked hunter's fist, bunched round his spear,
Was tight and wet inside with sweat of fear;
He heard behind him what the hunted hear.

The silence in the undergrowth crept near;
Its mischief tickled in his nervous ear
And he became the prey, the quivering deer.

The naked hunter feared the threat he knew:
Being hunted, caught, then slaughtered like a ewe
By beasts who padded on four legs or two.

The naked hunter in the bus or queue
Under his decent wool is frightened too
But not of what his hairy forebear knew.

The terrible abstractions prowl about
The compound of his fear and chronic doubt;
He keeps fires burning boldly all night through,
But cannot keep the murderous shadows out.

I'm not much of a poetry reader, but both these poems -- particularly The Terrible Abstractions -- really spoke to me. What a powerful poet, thank you for sharing his work. I always learn something new here!

Vee,

Thanks so much - diolch yn fawr - for giving me that link. The Telegraph is much better - more informative and more understanding of him as a poet and writer - than the Guardian obit which I found rather odd, really. I love his recreations listed in Who's Who' - 'drink, boxing...loathing Tories and New Labour'. He once said to me when ranting against the Right, 'Morality should be legislated for!'

Jankin, thanks for posting 'The Terrible Abstractions' - I didn't know it. I love Causley's poems, too. I met him, once, when he was reading on a course I attended. Nice, gentle sort of a man.

Sheriz, glad you liked the poems.

Dido

I really have liked the poems of Charles Causley and did not know he had passed on. Here is one of my favorites by Causley:

From a Norman Crucifix of 1632

I am the great sun but you do not see me,
I am your husband, but you turn away.
I am the captive, but you do not free me,
I am the captain you will not obey.

I am the truth, but you will not believe me,
I am the city where you will not stay.
I am your wife, your child, but you will leave me,
I am that god to whom you will not pray.

I am your council, but you do not hear me,
I am the lover whom you will betray,
I am the victor, but you do not cheer me,
I am the holy dove whom you will slay.

I am your life, but if you will not name me,
Seal up your soul with tears and never blame me.

I too love this poem of Causley's thank's for posting

Woodnymph, I love that poem. Thanks for posting.

I posted this on the 'Babies' thread' but of course it should also be here - thanks woodn

It hit me again when I opened up - and actually got caught in the registration process - infuriating!

Only because of Herod and because I love Causley

Innocent's Song

Who's that knocking on the window,
Who's that standing at the door,
What are all those presents
Laying on the kitchen floor?

Who is the smiling stranger
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the children
And who could have let him in?

Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?

Why does he ferry my fireside
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of fuses
And his tongue of gingerbread?

Why does the world before him
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
Burn like saffron buns?

Watch where he comes walking
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talking:

Herod is his name.

Charles Causley