We recently enjoyed an evening in the avuncular company of Felix Dennis, erstwhile publisher and now fully fledged poet. The tour was superbly monikered ‘Did I mention the free wine tour’ and as promised the sensibly priced ticket did include as much fine wine as one could manage.
Felix Dennis is genuinely a poet of the people and seeing him read his work was a revelation. His prose is accessible, simple and unpretentious and his readings bring alive the words and bring depth of meaning into every sentence.
If you get the chance read his work or better still, try and catch him live.
Here’s one of my favourites, click this link if you’d like to hear him read it
Today was one of the best days of my life. Nothing of any importance occurred— I cut my finger on a paperknife And marvelled at a busy hummingbird Plucking out wet moss by a waterfall; Broke bread with friends and shared a glass of wine; Wrote this poem; swam; made love. That’s all. Why should it be some days erect a shrine, A cairn, a white stone day, in memory? Is it, as Buddhists claim, a lack of need, Or want— or simple serendipity — The perfect flowering of one small seed? The wise will say our frames are none too pure: How many perfect days could we endure?