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Today’s Lord Malcolm visit

12 May

Definitely gone downhill, no doubt about it. His mind is doing odd things. He was barely conscious as well.

Last night he rang me at dinner and ordered fish… Not exactly a practical idea, and furthermore he couldn’t have eaten it most likely.

Can’t help feeling ambivalent about Dylan Thomas’s great poem.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Not, sadly, that old age is strictly the issue here. Nine days to Lord M’s 50th. (The party happened last May, just in case.)

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3 Comments

Posted by on May 12, 2007 in gay life/issues, Jim Belshaw, Personal

 

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3 responses to “Today’s Lord Malcolm visit

  1. Lisa

    May 12, 2007 at 4:14 pm

    Still praying.

     
  2. ninglun

    May 12, 2007 at 4:21 pm

    Thanks. That it doesn’t go on much longer is the best thing to ask now.

     
  3. Jim Belshaw

    May 12, 2007 at 5:02 pm

    Neil, I think that I agree with you re Dylan Thomas’s poem. Obviously I do not know Lord Malcolm, but feel that I do through your blog.

    I think, perhaps, that the strength in the poem is that in this last period Lord Malcolm was able with the support of his friends to do some of the things that he wanted, to feel that he had achieved small triumphs.

     
 
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