end of the pier

Gold cherry

By Mark Burrow

Fri, 27 Jan 2023
  • 3085 reads
24 comments
 

singing Jerusalem 

in a mouldy church

with a handful of strangers

 

only the vicar seems to know how to sing

the rest of us mumble and then sit back down,

stand up, sit down and the service goes on

until the coffin rolls slowly through a hatch

 

the curtains close and don't reopen

like we’re at a magic show gone wrong 

 

nilsson's everybody's talkin' starts playing

and i feel disrespectful in thinking 

that the original, by fred neil, is better

 

outside the church, i light a fag

“see that,” a woman says

i look at a wreath and two bouquets on the wet grass

“hardly any of this lot bothered to buy flowers," she whispers

 

i head to my car and reach

into the glove compartment for a mint

to get rid of my smoker’s breath

and realise I've already eaten the last one 

 

i watch them funeral-walk to their vehicles

 

we each drive to the pub on the seafront

 

the barmaid with a frog tattoo

shows us an inedible spread

of stale sandwiches, sausage rolls,

pork pies, scotch eggs and

a foil hedgehog of pineapple & sweaty cheese

 

sipping a soapy pint of lager,

i watch a bloke i've not met in years

chew white bread with his mouth wide open, 

telling me that he lost his top set of teeth

when he tripped over his dog in the kitchen

 

“can’t afford the dentures,” he says

 

i go out and roll a fag,

looking at the long pier with its

empty kiosks and derelict rides

 

as a boy, i laughed a lot on that pier

 

orange sunlight shimmers on a flat, glassy sea

 

this is the saddest town in the whole world

 

Certificate 12
Story
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by marandina on

A funeral we've all been to. Man I adore that song and scene from "Midnight Cowboy". Maybe Dustin Hoffman's finest moments of many. Always good to catch up with your latest work, Mark. Paul 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Cheers, P. Thanks for reading.

Midnight Cowboy is one of my favourite films.  

 

Submitted by celticman on

death has a way or reminding us not to eat sweaty cheese. 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

That's a much better last line than my one!

Cheers, CM. Appeciated. 

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

That's so sad and miserable. And at a time when everyone wants answers, and not a just a eulogy, true or false. of the one who's gone.

I was just thinking this morning in writing to someone of an incident when I was probably 19. My grandmother had died, and I had to go to the funeral in a Welsh church. I had just come to understand about Jesus' purchase of eternal life and the way to receive it, and was so uncomfortable in the service of waffle. And suddenly a young man stood up, and spoke in English (for some of my relatives this was the only part of the meeting they could understand, and oneof them, my grandfather, would himself die within about 2 months). This man spoke briefly but clearly in understandable sense, and said he'd been asked to speak, but hadn't known the deceased lady (my grandmother) but had been told she had faith, and this was a good time for all of us to consider whether we really had faith (a lot of those present were probably attenders of chapels where sadly little was really thought about the issues of life and death and salvation, and the clear answers in the Bible).

That was like a breath of fresh air, and since then I've been to funerals rather similar, but also to some wonderful sad but happy, meaningful and helpful ones. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

That must have been a very special moment for you and the faith that's become such a cornerstone in your life. Thanks for sharing that -- like you say, in our own way, we're all searching for meaning of some kind. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Great. And especially good to read a poem from you. Would be good to hear you read it. I can see the sticky glass rings of sadness and almost smell the stale beer. Love the last few lines too. This is our Pick of the Day. Do share on Facebook and Twitter. 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Thanks so much for the PoD and the compliment. Never really sure what these are and hesitate to call them poems, but I like writing them and they help me get back into writing. Really glad the last few lines clicked for you. 

And yes, sorry, should have added - happy to give this a go at a reading! 

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

oh yes I'd love to hear you read this too - what a good idea from onemore! This is brilliant and a great choice for golden cherries. A raw, honest and beautfully painted moment in life (and death) - well done 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Kind of you to say, Insert - thanks for reading it and the feedback!

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

"the curtains close and don't reopen

like we’re at a magic show gone wrong"

this is a brilliant description, holding so much about belief and its lack, the loss and hopelessness all through of those still alive in the dark, cold, damp church (am guessing it is dark and cold and damp, as mouldy?) But there is warmth, and light - "orange sun shimmers", and hope, because if this town is the saddest in the whole world, things are better in all the rest. And though you run out of mints as if they are chances at redemption/escaping despair, you can get some more mints! Just as you never run out of chances :0)

Also, please read this at the next ABC Reading!!!

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

What brilliant feedback -- thanks, Di-Hard. I did wonder about the 'magic show' line and so I'm glad to hear you think it works. It occurred to me when at a funeral last year, which some of this is based on.

I'll give this a go at the next ABC event! 

Really lovely way to end the week. Cheers! 

 

Submitted by sean mcnulty on

Saddest town it may be, but I love these characters.

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Thanks for reading it, Sean

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

The man who tripped over his dog, the stale sandwiches and the, 'hardly any of this lot...' woman (I pictured Bett Lynch) and I felt all my blood turning grey as I read this. How can the utterly pointless prick you so hard? Emotional and brilliant.

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Bett Lynch! Now there's an image. Thanks for the comments and for reading it Jane, very much appreciated. Cheers! 

 

Submitted by seashore on

A great piece, the details spot on.

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

That's nice to hear, Seashore -- thank you for reading it. 

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Funerals are often the most surreal events going. At my grandmother's the priest forgot her name and started rambling on about someone else entirely. Rather enjoyed the one where we sang The Red Flag. 

Yes, this is a defiinite for the next reading night! 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

They really are. The name howler reminds me of a wedding I went to and the vicar got the surname wrong and had to be corrected. I mean, really, you have one job....

The Red Flag would have been impressive. Thanks for reading and commenting, AF.

 

Submitted by David Kirtley on

This really was a good piece. You really manage to show the negative feeling of the funeral and the low mood of the narrator perfectly. You get the feeling that his life and good memories are very much in the past and gone.

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Hi David -- thanks for reading. Yes, I guess those feelings are meant in the context of that place and those people. I think funerals, particularly when bringing together a small family that is really more a loose collection of strangers, can generate an enormous sense of time passing and lives going in very different directions.

 

 

Submitted by Mark Say on

I'm due to go to a funeral in a couple of weeks. I hope it goes better than this one.

But good poem Mark. Highly evocative of a sense of drained sadness.

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

Sorry to hear that, Mark. I'm sure it will go better than this one. Thanks for reading and hope all's well with you.