The new Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is ‘As if the song would come again’ by Mikhail Smith, a poem about loss and regret. In his responses to our questions, he explains the poem a little more: “The inspiration for this was the death of a family member …  The poem is saying goodbye with the excuse that I was too weak and slow to help.” On his profile page he tells of his Russian-born father arriving in Liverpool, and of a crucial moment when he encountered renowned Mersey poet Adrian Henri in a bookshop.

 

 

How long has poetry been an important part of your life and can you remember why it became so?

School exams! The “write a poem” question always looked a better bet than something horrendous on Shakespeare. Then later in my twenty-somethings they became more serious or surreal.

 

Can you remember the first poem that you wrote, how old were you, what spurred you to write it?

Again, in a school exam at 16. It was about Vikings attacking a village and I wish I could remember it all now.

 

If you could only have one poet’s work to read, which one would you choose and why?

I'm afraid I haven't really read or studied many poets, only “dipped” into names here and there. It would be easier to say my favourite books are Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita for his great imagination, Maupassant's Bel Ami for his excellent writing, and Knut Hamsun's Hunger for his strange bleak look at a starving person's life.

 

Do you perform your work and if so, what advice would you give to other poets just starting out?

I've not done any public reading. I used to watch others then go home and write, but stagefright always took over when it came to getting up, so my only advice would be “the audience won't bite you!”

 

What was the inspiration for this poem's title?

Unfortunately, the inspiration for this was the death of a family member when I was in a position to help and I feel I failed badly. The poem is saying goodbye with the excuse that I was too weak and slow to help.

 

What is your desert island luxury item?

My luxury would be my guitar, mandolin or banjo so that I could drift off into some space where music drowns thought.

 

 

AS IF THE SONG WOULD COME AGAIN 

by Mikhail Smith

 

As if the song would come again
your ghost appears, you did not die,
and I with sadness, pace the room
something moved, passed me by.

And yet the song may come again
such notes to bear you far away,
I with nothing, and nothing still,
regret the minute, regret the day.

Chords of flowers echo in the sun,
random tunes or abstract play,
I with nothing, empty hands,
regret the minute, regret the day.

How slow was I to barely move,
frozen here, you passed away,
I with nothing, empty words
regret the minute, regret the day.

There is no life, there cannot be,
I placed my life within your grave,
you all expect too much of me.
I regret the minute. I regret the day.