<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rows\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n A strange condition for a row Does she entreat or remonstrate But as I muse on irony, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Stephen Kingsnorth<\/strong>, 67, is retired from ministry in the Methodist Church, living in north Wales.\u00a0 (He was diagnosed with Parkinson\u2019s Disease five years ago, and has been writing poetry for some 9 months)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Rows\u00a0 A strange condition for a row amongst the headstone rows that flank the hill side cemetery, that hangs and flows, marble chips and chips off marble, chip paper, scree of lager cans and driven flowers; sunlight bearing on the granite backs lapidary curlicues of the shade. Does she entreat or remonstrate […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-19759","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19759","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19759"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19759\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19997,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19759\/revisions\/19997"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19759"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19759"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19759"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\namongst the headstone rows that flank
\nthe hill side cemetery,
\nthat hangs and flows,
\nmarble chips and chips off marble, chip paper,
\nscree of lager cans and driven flowers;
\nsunlight bearing on the granite backs
\nlapidary curlicues of the shade.<\/p>\n
\nas they pace on and through the slabs,
\nan avenue of undying love inscribed,
\nhe silent, power-walking ahead against the wind and mood?
\nShe, some pace behind,
\noutstretched arm and cupping hand towards him,
\nrelaying, I assume,
\nthe beg to hear her, or impress the point, backhanding.
\nI wonder if, affected by the tight clipped yews
\nand angel wings and comforts versed,
\nand likewise outstretched arms,
\nshe solicits advocacy of heaven.<\/p>\n
\nthe hope of ancient dead to hold sway,
\nto influence for good,
\nI realise that in her extended hand
\nis her phone.<\/p>\n