to Paul Squires

December 16, 2010

a wave goodbye
paints a new horizon


In memory of Paul Squires, whose presence and comments graced this site with some regularity. Paul was a well regarded  published poet and author of the acclaimed book The Puzzle Box. His fine work can be appreciated at his blog gingatao. Thank you Paul for your words and humanity.

Here are some wonderfully written tributes:
Paul Squires at Aletha Kuschan’s Weblog

Paul Squires and Proust at Words

Paul Squires, Poet Laureate Of The Universe at Absurdistry’s Weblog

Paul Squires: Some things are not ghosts at art predator.

Paul Squires: true original, gone… at Another Lost Shark

Paul performing his poetry:

Here is the poem, Listen:

Listen By Paul Squires

Listen. Not to me. On a cool, clear night like this the traffics are louder.
They hurrr by like bundles of compressed air whirlywinding someone
home. The old man next door has gone to bed. He coughs his awakeness
and will soon snore his dream.
This pen pushes black ink across a white page with a jumping, scratching
rhythm. The next three dots are not a device they are a drum roll…
This last full stop is a rimshot crack.
The oceans from which you come continue in your breath, hear soft lines
rhythm in and curl out. You are a continent composed of dreams, a land of
mystery and miracles and your heartbeat I hear as the voice of God
entrusting her creation to you. This is not a metaphor nor an allegory nor an
image. You are not a story you tell yourself. Your life is not an American
Movie. Star light is real and brings the heavens to you to kiss your eyes and in this cold night voices purr in the street as drunkards roll home and cats pursue the objectives of their owners and an old grey muzzle dog’s tail thumps once on a bare wooden floor.
The moon speaks to him in his voice and to you in the voice of your blood and the ocean though miles away moils in each of your cells, salt water in your tears, salt water in your blood coloured by passion and the breathing you hear is not your own, nor mine but the voice of a child a thousand miles away, born before his time and waiting. Waiting for your eternal embrace, your warmth to bring him home and his mother in the clouds of morning, in the ever present sunrise, you can hear her smile in birdsong and in the crackle of dry leaves under bare feet.
Insects sing.
There is no other proof of your existence but this, the sounds that you hear always, every sound ever alive in the tremor of tiny bones hidden in your head. Imagine that, the slightest of vibrations creating all this clamour of life which never stops, is always warm and slow, fast and hot and though you may close your eyes you may never close your ears, not even in sleep wherein sounds will form the matter of your dreams.
And though you may close this book forever and never read another word, wordless the world will come to you and reveal itself to you and there is no other proof that you exist but this, you are beloved of the earth and the creatures around you, insects and stars are quietly harmonising with your breath and the rythm of the ocean enlivens us all, and the moons voice is eternal and God whispers lullabies in breezes, rain storms, traffic and there beside you now, the ever present child drawing warmth from the murmur of your heart as it marks the patterns of joy, the echoes of pain, the wheel which never ceases to turn and touching you rolls on, it hurrrs as it turns slowly fading into just you, you alone, surrounded by and singing with the voice of God.

Source of poem: gingatao

Here are some poems written for Paul:

The Force of Gravity

We didn’t realise the gravity of the situation

the impact of releasing a single word,
a flutter
faintly at first but slowly
the breeze from the butterfly effect
turned into a cyclonic wind


gravity holds
planets in orbit of the sun
you were the sun
as we were the planets


there was a supernova
a stella explosion

what was before
and what remains,
a mirage
that is life
without gravity.

Gabrielle Bryden

The show must go on,

Now I know how Dorothy felt when the tornado picked her up in Kansas and whoooossshed her to the fantastical land of Oz to be with a bunch of witches, the scarecrow, tin man and cowardly lion. Now I know how a cork from a bottle of rum feels when thrown overboard by a pirate (concentrating on the melody of what shall we do with a drunken sailor while scratching his itchyaaarse and dancing with a mermaid of his fantasy), tossed up, down and sideways on the black, tumultuous seas, longing to be safely back in the dry ship cabin. I must be hallucinating, I’m sea-ing a pink snail floating on fairy floss or is it slithering along a shimmering martini, too many incantations to digest,
never mind that, I can see the washing machine waters beginning to settle, a little, and the sky tonight is red so another day will bring a sailor’s delight of calming seas, for sure
peppermint tea anyone …

he would have it no other way
the show must go on,

Gabrielle Bryden


Note: Please feel free to submit any poems, essays, or recommendations for inclusion. The above tributes and poems are by no means the only ones. They are myriad. Paul seems to have spurned a cosmos of admirers.

Peace, Herb (


18 Responses to “to Paul Squires”

  1. valbrussell Says:

    Thank you for discovering Paul’s words on my blog and sharing them here. 🙂

  2. Jingle Says:

    awesome post..

  3. gnunn Says:

    he was, and remains a true original.

  4. Lovely. He’ll never be forgotten.

  5. qazse Says:

    Thank you all for coming by and commenting.

    There have been many hits on this post. It is gratifying to see how he was regarded.

    I have been away from this blog for a long while.
    I have been busy with the anti-fracking movement here in Northeast Pennsylvania. I know it is an issue in Australia. My blog is

    That being said, I am feeling more and more compelled to get back to posting on qazse.

    Peace to you all and I know the spirit of Paul is safe within many good hearts.

    Herb Baldwin

  6. […] source of all works created by Paul Terry Squires is Paul Terry Squires. With all due respect to Herb Baldwin, aka Qazse, the source of Paul’s poem “Listen” is not Graham Nunn of Another Lost Shark. The […]

  7. qazse Says:

    That was the internet source I found it on. I did a search for Paul Terry Squires + Listen .. Nothing. Searched gingatao, no Listen. Perhaps I should have used different nomenclature to title the link. Would you have one to suggest? (I was merely trying to give a source which was obviously a secondary one, but a source nonetheless).

    I slapped this post together in a small amount of time. In looking back on the post I see some glaring omissions. My intro to Paul is sparse and does not mention gingatao etc.. I relied on the links to fill in the blanks. That is not good posting. Thank you for your feedback and anticipated suggestion

    I will revise this accordingly.


  8. Narnie Says:

    Hi Herb, I thought you would appreciate the direct link to Listen, which is

    Thank you for you wonderful tribute to Paul and although copyright continues to be an issue, I and many others are continually grateful for his friends and admirers continuing to highlight his work.

  9. qazse Says:

    Narnie, Thank you! So much for the widget search engine on wordpress blogs. I am sorry if I ruffled up some lingering issues. I have rec’d a couple more tributes and intend to post them here. It is a work in progress. He was certainly loved. I hope the issues are resolved as if Paul were still physically present in this space and time. Again, thank you for coming to my rescue. Herb

  10. Thank you, Herb, for linking to my comments about Paul. I hope the world discovers what an amazing person he was, what an amazing poet he is.

    • qazse Says:

      I believe, as the world discovers Paul, they will also find your talented group he mentored and loved. And if the world never does. If the pace is too great, the electronic distraction too blinding, he will be not be diminished. Ultimately it is the universe which listens and approves. Ultimately it is the universe for which we write. It prepares us.

  11. Aha tributes and attribution…

    I miss you, Paul.

    Thank you for including me in your blog round-up. I wrote about Paul often, before and after his passing.

  12. “what was before
    and what remains,
    a mirage
    that is life
    without gravity.” love this

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: