#AtoZChallenge ‘R’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Remember’ by Christina Rossetti #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

 

Today I offer you two poems about remembrance and death, Remember by the Victorian poet, Christina Rossetti, and Remember Me by Luccia Gray.

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Remember

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you planned.

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve.

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Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) wrote Remember, a sonnet in the style of Petrarch, when she was still a teenager. It’s a classic Victorian poem about mourning and remembrance. She tells her lover to remember her at the beginning of the poem, yet at the end, she seems to change her mind and tells him not to grieve if he forgets her for a while. 

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I haven’t written a sonnet this time, but I have taken her theme of remembrance and death, with a more optimistic note.

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Remember Me

Remember me when I am gone,

With smiles not tears, with love, not fear,

Smile at photos, laugh at memories,

Read my letters, write me poems,

Remember me when you are sad,

I’ll be waiting, for our meeting,

I’ll blow kisses with the warm breeze,

I’ll send music with the sunflowers,

Remember me, I’ll be right there.

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#AtoZChallenge ‘J’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Joy’ #NPM17 #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you two poems, On the Death of Anne Brontë BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË, ‘There’s little joy in life for me’, and ‘There’s Still Joy’ by Luccia Gray- 

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There’s little joy in life for me,

   And little terror in the grave;

I ‘ve lived the parting hour to see

 Of one I would have died to save.

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Calmly to watch the failing breath,

Wishing each sigh might be the last;

Longing to see the shade of death

O’er those belovèd features cast.

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The cloud, the stillness that must part

The darling of my life from me;

And then to thank God from my heart,

To thank Him well and fervently;

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Although I knew that we had lost

The hope and glory of our life;

And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,

 Must bear alone the weary strife.

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More about Charlotte Bronte here

This poem was written in response the death of Charlotte Bronte’s sister Anne Brontë, in 1849. Anne’s death was sudden and although all the Brone siblings had ill health, Anne’s death was unexpected and Charlotte was clearly devastated. Charlotte was the eldest of the four surviving Bronte siblings. In 1848 her brother Branwell Bonte died, shortly after, Emily became seriously ill and died of tuberculosis, in December 1848, and Anne died of the same disease in May 1849. I can only imagine how Charlotte must have felt, after her mother and all her siblings had died. In her poem, we can feel her desolation and loneliness.

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I also know what it means to lose your only surviving sister. I’ve written other poems to my sister, this one is inspired by Charlotte Bronte’s poem to Anne Bronte. 

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There’s Still Joy

 

I always knew you’d be a girl.

I heard your cry and ran to see

Your puffed red face and cute fair curls.

At last someone to play with me.

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Too soon you left. No parting kiss,

No words to say our last farewell.

Your hugs forever I will miss,

Your virtues to everyone I’ll tell.

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I wish you could have fought harder.

You gave up your last breath too soon.

Why couldn’t you have spoken louder

The night you saw the last full moon?

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There’s still joy in remembering,

Your face, your voice, your laugh.

But it’s a temporary parting,

Many waters cannot quench love.

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#AtoZChallenge ‘F’ #NationalPoetryMonth ‘Funeral Blues’ #NPM17 #amwriting #poem

This year to celebrate National Poetry Month and to take part in the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, I’ll be posting two poems a day, one written by me and another poem written by one of my favourite poets. The title or first word of both poems will begin with the corresponding letter in the Blogging Challenge.

Today I offer you two sorrowful poems, Funeral Blues, By W. H. Auden, which is a poem about sorrow and mourning due to the loss of a loved one, and Fifty-One, which I wrote in October 2014, when my sister would have celebrated her 51st birthday.

Fifty-One

You would have been 51 today.

I would have phoned.

You would have said ‘Hi, Lil!’

We would have chatted,

And laughed, and gossiped.

Hours later,

‘I would have said, ‘Bye, El!’

It would have been so special.

Nobody else would have understood

Our made-up language,

Our private jokes,

Our childhood fears,

Our secret dreams…

I wouldn’t have written this poem with brine,

If you hadn’t ripped a piece of my heart

When you left.

If you hadn’t been unlawfully killed,

You would have been 51 today.

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Funeral Blues / Stop All the Clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

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Check out an analysis of the poem here  and more information on Auden here. 

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Thursday photo prompt: #Horizon #writephoto #amwriting #poetry Don’t Weep

This poem was written in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt

writephoto

Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 15th March and link back to Sue’s post with a pingback.

Don’t Weep

Don’t weep.

When I’ve flown

Through the pool

In the sky.

I’ll dive

Through the clouds

In the heavens.

I’ll wave

At the sea,

And smile

At the wind,

As she blows

Soft kisses

Across your cheeks,

Like a breeze,

Soothing

Your  soul.

Take my hand 

As you jump

Over rocks

In your path.

I’ll be here,

Watching you,

So smile.

Don’t weep.

 

            For Elsa.

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#WordlessWednesday & #OneLinerWednesday On Life, Birth and Death

 (Almost) Wordless Wednesday. 

Birth: The source of the Spanish River Ebro, the second longest river in the Iberian peninsula, in Fontibre (in Spanish the source of a river is called its birth: nacimiento).

 

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Death: Ancient Cemetery next to the Romanic style Visigothic church at Retortillo, Cantabria, Spain built on the ruins of a Roman necropolis known as Julióbriga, a few kilometers away from the river’s source.
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One Liner Wednesday. This week’s theme: ‘It was the Beginning of the end’

 

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“I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.”

 “I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.”
Charles Dickens

So wise. I’ll never tire of rereading Charles Dickens…

 

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Finally, seen at the Hermitage in Córdoba:

 

Translation: In the twlight of your life your last exam will be on love

Hope you have a Wonderful Wednesday. Remember, carpe diem; it’s all we have!