Poetry Friday: Death is Nothing At All

Bit of a sad one today in some ways – apparently this is popular at funerals (odd phrase) and that’s where I heard it too. If you don’t do well with sadness, then feel free to skip this one and come back next week, or read an earlier one again that’s more cheerful! It’s been a little over a year since my grandma died, and her house is being sold today – which is the last thing, really, left ‘to do’. I don’t think tasks and jobs like that are given enough importance when we talk about grief. The focus tends …

Poetry Friday: Love after Love

I first came across this poem in an anthology – it is on an English GCSE specification, though I’ve never read or studied it – when I was looking for something for a lesson, I’ve forgotten what. It resonated with me immediately, because there’s something so powerful about the sentiment of having loved and lost, and coming to the realisation that in fact the most important thing is to be happy and comfortable with yourself. Although in some ways I think I’m probably the same as when I was very little, in many, many ways I am completely different. Every time …

Poetry Friday: The Hug

I thought it’d be nice to introduce some more regular posting, and to take the opportunity to share some things I find inspirational or interesting here.  I love poetry; I read quite a bit of it, mostly for work but am trying to read some more modern work as well, and there’s something truly stunning about the way poets manage to use language in such a concise and glorious way. The Hug It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined Half of the night with our old friend Who’d showed us in the end To a bed I reached …

Poetry Friday: Marital Visit

Marital Visit The odd thing put away in the wrong place – cups and plates back in the cupboard that I always leave out, curtains open on the street that I always keep drawn, remind me of your recent brief progress through here, looking for something in the attic. How could I forget: butter in the fridge, but never eggs, burnt matches everywhere, in spite of the gas lighter, jam jars soaking in water to get the labels off. How typical of you to give the Chinese teapot a last chance to prove itself in company. And look at that …