Anorak News | A Poem To Solve A Murder

A Poem To Solve A Murder

by | 27th, March 2007

paul_kelly.jpgWHO is the mystery poet who can solve the murder of Paul Kelly?

Kelly, 32, was found stabbed to death outside the Longacre pub, bath, on New Year’s Day. The killer walks free.

In “RHYMEWATCH”, the Sun profiles the anonymous author who has posted rhymes in the streets near where Kelly was killed.

Posters are on lampposts. Posters on bus stops. The clues are in the verse.

But this is no cryptic puzzler, more Carl Sanburg than The Dream of the Rood. The weapon is identified. A name is offered up.

As the BBC reports, already a knife, found by police in the River Avon following a clue in the poem, is being examined by forensic officers.

A reward of £10,000 reward has been offered for information leading to an arrest. Do you know the killer?

The poem:

Now I will show how a few words can be made
As sharp and deadly as any boy’s blade
How running away will not you save
The truth is there like an open grave

You can wipe your bloody hands in the grass, till they bleed…

A defenceless man is dead and his blood’s gone cold
But the story of his end is going to be told

You can run and run till your shoes wear thin
And hope that you’re safe, ‘cos of the colour of your skin
Paul Kelly lies dead, and who held the knife?
It was you, [name removed], we all saw take his life.

The New Year was but a short hour old
When you and your mates were: Oh, so bold.
You put us to shame,
But we did the same.

It was black on white, so it must be right
It was you who said: ‘He had it coming that night.’
Then you ran away and we turned our backs.
You said we would be next if we breathed a word
We took in you threats that now sound absurd

So we closed our eyes
And took in your lies

So where will you run when, at last, you face a brave man?
You gonna run once more through the streets, all a quiver?

Will wash yourself down in the deep, deep river?
Yow, young [name removed], where you threw the knife,
Listen to what I say and take good heed:
You can wipe your bloody hands in the grass, till they bleed…
But you will never, never get them clean.

Posted: 27th, March 2007 | In: Tabloids Comments (5) | TrackBack | Permalink