Charles Cowling
    THE GRAVEDIGGER’S WEDDING  by Kevin Paul and Harold Arpthorp (1926)   ‘Twas the day of the gravedigger’s wedding, The churchyard was shrouded in gloom, And the lads of the village sat silent, As they played tiddley winks on a tomb. The villagers trooped up the High Street, Trying their
Charles Cowling
  The Gas Poker by Thom Gunn (An account of his mother’s suicide when he was in his teens, written in the third person.) Forty-eight years ago— Can it be forty-eight Since then?—they forced the door Which she had barricaded With a full bureau’s weight Lest anyone find, as they did,
Charles Cowling
Posted by Vale I think this lovely poem manages to capture both the humanity and the brisk, professional approach a nurse would take to washing and preparing a body: Instruction Check: water, soap, a folded sheet, a shroud. Close cubicle curtains. Light’s swallowed in hospital green. Our man lies dense
Charles Cowling
  Condolences Please do not ask If I am now recovering Or if I see the light At the tunnel’s end. Nor speak about relief — or burdens lifted. And, worst of all, new starts. Please, please don’t ask If I am getting through — Have come to terms Or
Charles Cowling
Posted by Evelyn   I heard this on Radio Four over the weekend and liked its mournful simplicity.   My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And
Charles Cowling
Posted by Vale I was at a service a little while ago that included this lovely tribute from a wife to a husband: To My Dear Loving Husband – Anne Bradstreet If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee. If ever
Charles Cowling
  I can’t keep up these days, dammit. To my great grief I missed the start of one of the great events of the year, Gail Rubin’s annual 30 Day Challenge. She attends 30 funerals in 30 days, and each day writes each one up in great detail in a
Charles Cowling
  I wish I wish we’d had more time, To talk about the life you lead, the things you saw, your thoughts left unsaid. I wish we’d looked to our futures, yours and mine, Shared paths, different lengths of time, I should have followed where you led. I wish I
Charles Cowling
; ; Posted by Vale Richard Brautigan was a writer and a poet. He died not long ago, which makes this poem very timely. Ed Dorn wrote it ‘for the post mortem amusement of Richard Brautigan’. Let’s hope he is: A B H O R RE N C E S
Charles Cowling
The Purbeck Isle   What do love and death have in common? Ans: they inspire poetry. It’s where we turn when words fail. Two pieces today. The first is freshly minted by our religious correspondent, Richard Rawlinson. We do not know We do not know when or how we shall die.