One of the tragic, eternal facts of human life is that there will always be wars – some the hideous, misguided choice of evil men and some “wars of necessity” but war all the same since the horror and indiscriminate agony caused by war is not changed by what designation war is given.
There are some things that keep out the darkness that continually threatens in anyone’s life.
I remember “Read to Succeed” was once the theme of the activities and exhibitions organized to celebrate the work of library services for the children of Guyana.
In any given situation we assume that people, including ourselves, will act sensibly.
Someone read a column of mine and meeting me asked very sincerely What is the practical value of Poetry, Ian?
A child who develops a love of reading wins a prize that will last and last until the end of life.
They have become an inspiring part of Guyana’s poetic heritage I found them instantly unforgettable.
Three quarters of the latest year has passed away. This seems astonishing to me.
In honour of Sir Shridath Ramphal whose ashes were laid to rest at the Garden of the Seven Ponds last week this Column is dedicated.
“What the earth swallows is soon forgotten.” In his era, A.E.
As I get older, and the older I get the faster I seem to get older, I find myself regretting all the wonders and miraculous developments I read about and feel that I will miss as time goes on beyond my passing.
In honour of Sonny Ramphal, most memorable of West Indians I reproduce a column I wrote about him some time ago.
This Sunday how could I not write a few – bound to be inadequate – words about Dave.
In Geoff Dyer’s interesting book “The Last Days Of Roger Federer and Other Endings” people getting old are warned against the risk of being “reduced to letting the clock go round.”
Gordon ‘Gig’ Delph was an old friend well remembered. I knew him from my tennis-playing days.
Sport has an infinity of delights to offer in this hard, unplayful world.
Any number of times I read of some atrocity here or in the wider world and say to myself or exclaim in horror: “No, this is the worst.
Extraordinary People Every moment in our lives is embedded in the extraordinary architecture of our minds.
There is an entry in my father’s diary which moved me deeply when I read it after he died.
Derek Walcott, or rather his poetry, entered my life when he was twenty and I was seventeen.
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