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  • Grandsons and Grannies...

    This poem...

    Grannie

     by Vernon Scannell

     

    I stayed with her when I was six then went

    To live elsewhere when I was eight years old.

    For ages I remembered her faint scent

    Of lavender, the way she'd never scold

    No matter what I'd done, and most of all

    The way her smile seemed, somehow, to enfold

    My whole world like a warm, protective shawl.

     

    I knew that I was safe when she was near,

    She was so tall, so wide, so large, she would

    Stand mountainous between me and my fear,

    Yet oh, so gentle, and she understood

    Every hope and dream I ever had.

    She praised me lavishly when I was good,

    But never punished me when I was bad.

     

    Years later war broke out and I became

    A soldier and was wounded while in France.

    Back home in hospital, still very lame,

    I realised suddenly that circumstance

    Had brought me close to that small town where she

    Was living still. And so I seized the chance

    To write and ask if she could visit me.

     

    She came. And I still vividly recall

    The shock that I received when she appeared

    That dark cold day. Huge grannie was so small!

    A tiny, frail, old lady. It was weird.

    She hobbled through the ward to where I lay

    And drew quite close, and, hesitating, peered.

    And then she smiled: and love lit up the day.

     

    And this video...
     
  • Old Love...

    Yesterday evening's service was a sort of reflection on old age and included poems, video clips and some thoughts from me.  Here is the first of two posts sharing some of that material.

    This short passage has been chosen by a young couple whose wedding I will be conducting in September... it is just beautiful...

     

    The Beauty of Love (Anon)

    The question is asked; "Is there anything more beautiful in life than a young couple clasping hands and pure hearts in the path of marriage? Can there be anything more beautiful than young love?"
     
    And the answer is given: "Yes, there is a more beautiful thing."
    "It is the spectacle of an old man and an old woman finishing their journey together on that path. Their hands are gnarled but still clasped; their faces are seamed but still radiant; their hearts are physically bowed and tired but still strong wth love and devotion. Yes, there is a more beautiful thing than young love. Old love."
     
    And this video of a song based on another powm (note the subtitles have an error near the end where the word 'gone' should actaully be 'gaunt')