Green Railings

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 23 Feb 2015
  • 1620 reads
10 comments
 
Green railings divide
earth from heaven...
the village churchyard
at the bend in the road
 
On the ancient side –
each grave the same;
milkweed, and lichen,
dandelions and bindweed
 
the rich, the poor, 
the saints and the sinners
no distinction here –
where the new and the old,
pretty soon, will oppose
and just spotted spurge
will rise, triumphant from it all
 
On my knees – tulips in hand
green railings coruscate the sky
where earth and heaven meet –
run my hands over engraving
 
A name I cannot read.
Whomsoever... we’ll meet
in the wild beyond
 
 
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

I like the visual divisions in this, and the eventual lack of any kind of distinction. The picture in my mind from - 

'On my knees – tulips in hand
green railings coruscate the sky
where earth and heaven meet –
run my hands over engraving
 
A name I cannot read.
Whomsoever... we’ll meet
in the wild beyond'  -  is vivid and touching. As always, so much attention to detail. 

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Bee, my thanks to you.  

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

There's a subtle Gothic feel to this in setting and language. An original perception of life and death meeting, too. It's comforting.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hi there, Vera.  Obliged to you for dropping by.  Your feedback, always informative, and constructive. Thank you, so much.

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Good to see the flowers noted - some graveyards can be oases for flowers.
So many inscriptions are fading, not important probably, but my sister did a research project on gravestones in Wales, largely to see how dialect affected the little poems that were commonly put on them, especially at the time of Christian faith revival. They had to be very short and to the point, but often gently reminding the reader of their own mortality, and often the same verse would appear in different areas, and the differences seemed to be largely because of the effect of dialect on pronunciation and rhyme, and mutation (first letters changing) too I think. After hearing about it I found some such around here in English, but with something of the same influence. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, Rhiannon.  Yes, you are so right about the wild flowers.  This poem is modelled  on my local churchyard, where I, and my husband, have a place bookedsmiley, incidentally, as it so happens, right next to our late neighbour, a local gentleman who loved the land, and was born and lived his entire life in the village.  He shares the plot with his dear wife, who followed him, a couple of years later.

I go to visit them as often as I can, and just wander around in the peace and quiet, if it isn't lambing season, of course, and then it can get a bit noisysmiley

So interesting to hear about your sister's project.  I hadn't thought, until now, about variations in dialect, etc, or that inscriptions would be locally influenced.  Must look more closely next time I go.  

Thank you for your lovely comment, and for sharing.

Tina

 

Submitted by nonamecity on

Hi Tina, I think this poem is really good.  The feeling I get from the opening stanza is that heaven begins the moment you pass through the church yard gates.  Does this mean then that the sinners are already in heaven the moment there buried, or is the graveyard really heaven's reception room?  The notion of the deceased taking a number and waiting to be called has a certain dark humour to it.

Another seed that grows out of the poem for me is the notion that the "whomsoever" may yet be a sinner and that the "wild beyond" you refer to may well lie downwards rather than up!  It would appear that even a casual stroll among the graves could lead to getting in with a dangerous (albeit deceased) crowd.

As ever, a great piece of writing.

Nonamecity

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

You raise some interesting propositions.  Food for thought, most certainly.  You were right in that feeling you had, that heaven, for the narrator, at least, started at the church yard gates.

Pleased you got so much from this, and giving me much to think about.smiley

Have a peaceful evening.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Hi Tina,

I love looking around grave yards, so was intruiged to read this poem.

I was reading your reply to Rhiannon's comment, thought the poem could be a tribute to your neighbour and love the idea of the lines:-

On my knees - tulips in hand

green railings coruscate the sky

where earth and heaven meet -

run my hands over engraving

 

A name I cannot read.

Whomsoever...we'll meet

in the wild beyond

Wherever that wild beyond is, I hope with all my heart that we can all meet up with those we've loved and lost.

Beautifully written.

Jenny.  smiley

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hi, Jenny, and in a way it is a tribute to the Palmers.  They were a great couple, and I miss them loads.

So pleased you enjoyed  this one, and I hope you are right about that meeting up.  I like to believe you are.

Hope your week is going well.

Tinasmiley