My friend Richard Meier, who has died aged 55 of lung cancer, wrote poetry that reveals the extraordinary in the commonplace. He won the 2010 inaugural Picador poetry prize, leading to his first collection, Misadventure, being published in 2012. This was shortlisted for the Fenton Aldeburgh prize, and he went on to publish two further collections. He also worked in mental health policy, where he highlighted the adverse consequences of the NHS outsourcing care to the independent sector.
His poems distil everyday observations with great beauty and precision. In Muscle Memory, Richard saw the world reveal itself to his young son, Wilf, through the flight of a Frisbee thrown on a beach. In the 12-week scan of his daughter, Matilda, he saw in her fingertips “ten of the tiniest bulbs, on”.
