Wednesday 17 December 2014

The candlelight is quickly spent





The candlelight
is quickly spent
and piles
of empty plastic pots
inhabit
winter's graveyard
 corners


. . . and oft to view

some nearby yard
as here in tangled weeds
behind the wall or fence
 with stones
in order stacked
that once framed graves  


. . . for there are  

always 
those who fail to send 
the periodic payments due
upon 
some dear one's
heavenly 
plot


2 comments:

  1. A beautiful poem Gwil. My first husband would have been put on a hill top for the crows had it be allowed - he did not believe in graveyard memorials - and yet he lies in one.

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  2. My dad's memorial is the ancient old oak tree below which his ashes were scattered at a meaningful location finally chosen by my mother who kept them in the bedroom cupboard for 12 months before preforming the ritual together with my sister.

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