I heard no birds
In the winter churchyard.
It was just
The cold sky
The tombs
And I
On a darkening afternoon.
Winter Churchyard
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Tag Archives: churches
I Touch the Gravestone
I touch the gravestone
Warm from the afternoon sun.
I have come
Here alone,
Many a time
My mind
Full of rhyme.
But under the cold gravestone
There is neither sun
Nor rhyme.
Progress
Walking through the churchyard
On a freezing evening,
I consider progress. ,
And pass by
Fading inscriptions
On tombstones.
Church Bells
On hearing the bells chime
I think on time.
Although there is no
Clock in the church tower
To measure my brief hour.
More Often Than Not
More often than not
I stop
By the graveyard plot
Where a soft breeze
Rustles trees.
Yet, outside this spot
I hear it not.
Churchyard Tree
A tall tree
Arrested me
As I
Passed by
The churchyard yesterday.
When I
Go away
The tree will stay.
And others will pass by.
And, perhaps, think as I.
Stopping Off
Bending, I trace the weathered stone resting peacefully in the grass. Being blind I know not who slumbers below, but hope they sleep well.
Birds sing. My dog investigates the plants growing in and around the grave, his warm head finds my hand, looking for an answer, “why have we stopped so close to home?” he seems to ask.
Turning, I run my hands over the rough bark of a huge tree. I notice a split in the midst of this mighty oak. Slowly the tree is dying. It won’t go soon unless storm uproots it but, in time the split will deepen, church wardens will consult. Perhaps staves will be employed to support the tree or, maybe a few blows of the woodman’s axe will bring it down for the safety of the community.
Intellectually I know death will one day find me but, standing here I feel no fear, only a curiosity about this place.
Abandoned
Rain sodden corpse, in a churchyard. Abandoned, unclaimed, slowly decay setting in.
Once you wowed audiences. Your music had couples dancing, romancing. Many a love was born as you filled the air with melodies sweet.
Now your heart is still. No more tunes will eminate from your once mighty chest.
An old piano, your notes immovable, choked with rain water, you stand by the church, sadly waiting to be taken away.
(On Thursday 2 October my mum, her partner and I came across an abandoned piano, in the church close to my home. When first discovered it still worked. However due to heavy rain the piano’s notes are now immovable. How the instrument came to be in the churchyard I have no idea but, at time of writing it remains there).
K Morris - Poet 