A Raconteur Girl Production

Posts tagged “Dead

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Lilacs for Lucy

 

Resting Under Lilacs Collage

 

Lilacs for Lucy

 

 

Lilacs for Lucy

Blooming so delicately

Nanna didn’t want flowers

Who wants flowers

When you can have a whole tree?

 

A bouquet may be lovely

But as soon as its cut – it’s dying

A tree is the opposite

Growing, breathing

Part of creation, thriving

 

So it’s Lilacs for Lucy

It’s a tree for my Nanna

A tree for your Mum

A tree for your Friend

A tree for your Great Grandmother

 

When I think of Nanna

I picture a garden home

Messy, rambling, beautiful

Where veggies are planted next to flowers

And where wild nasturtiums roam

 

Green through and through

From her thumbs to her toes

Like a Hobbit from Derbyshire

It seemed to me

Things grow wherever Nanna goes

 

Walking in her garden I hear a canary whistle

Then break into trilling song

I hear the soft shuffle of quails

And the flutter of finches

Chirping and dancing along

 

I see Nanna sitting by a fire

Lost in knit and pearl

Her needles click clacking away

She’s making warm woollen socks

For some lucky little girl

 

Other times I see her wearing black rimmed glasses

Engrossed in a riveting tale

A cup of tea poured

But then forgotten

Growing cold on the table

 

Will I see Nanna again?

Sitting peaceful by her fire once more?

Yes, I know I will

But in the meantime I have my memories

And the stories passed down from days of yore

 

(Ok, so maybe I exaggerate

They’re not exactly days of Yore

More like days of yesteryear.

No? Still insulting? Ok, sorry. I’ll be more specific:

The days of Mom, Uncle Tom, Uncle Mike and Uncle George

😉  )

 

I remember being fascinated by Nanna’s teapots

She collected so many over the decades

She set them out amongst a myriad other memorabilia

Those dusty shelves crowded

In a wrong, but somehow so right, random, bohemian display

 

I remember brown boxes of Cadbury Chocolate

Factory cast offs Nanna had bought

I remember those jars of colourful Boiled Sweets

Those packets of English Toffees

And those bags of Liquorice All Sorts

 

It was Nanna who introduced me to the art of shopping

She took me to “vintage” stores galore

While Nanna searched for second hand trinkets

I discovered clothes and shoes and hats

Eclectic styles from years past, to mix and match, and explore

 

I close my eyes and hear Nanna’s soft English accent

It coloured every word she would say

Her kind and mild way of speaking

“Dook” she would call me

In that unique Derbyshire way

 

I remember constantly asking Nanna: “How old are you?”

And to my consternation and grief

She’d always reply with a twinkle:

“I’m as old as my tongue

And a little bit older than my teeth”

 

But there were times that Nanna was not so gentle

Like when she had pruning shears in hand

I remember her ruthlessly attacking

A defenceless bush in our front yard

Hacking away until only a stump was left to stand

 

Then there was the way she played scrabble

How competitive she would get!

Like she’d swallowed a dictionary

She’d thrash you soundly on triple word scores

And then off she’d go to bed

 

I remember Mom once laughed relating

About the time Nanna had a hankering to buy some Llamas

“You have a big back yard Jean” she said “there’s plenty of room”

I don’t know why Mom said no, it really could’ve been a thing

Lucy and Jean – Kingston’s suburban Llama farmers

 

Then there was the time Nanna got her ears pierced

Long dangly hooked earrings and all!

I remember being so impressed

Whoever had such a Nanna?

It was just way too cool!

 

There are so many memories:

Nanna’s false teeth grossing me out, sitting in a glass

How she called Mick “Mickey” on the first day they met

Her gentle smile, her hair when it was black

Nanna teaching me how to play draughts

 

But mostly it’s a feeling I remember

No matter where I’d roam

No matter where I’d go

Nanna was the place

The place that meant home

 

Memories are a gift

Something no one can take away

They grow richer in the face of sorrow

They grow more precious

They become history that defeats the grave

 

I am grateful that I have these memories

Though right now my eyes tear and mist

I miss Nanna

And I’ll miss her for a while

For now, my Nanna’s gone to rest

 

But I know one day soon Nanna will awake

On that day she’ll be vibrant and strong

She’ll once again plant beautiful, messy, rambling gardens

She’ll get to be that Llama farmer

And she’ll listen as her Canary sings a happy welcoming song

 

I picture Nanna showing her great great great grandchildren

How to play draughts, how to prune a tree

How to knit socks, how not to suck at scrabble

And relating tales and stories

Of how life in the old world used to be

 

Yes, Lilacs for Lucy

Lilacs blooming so delicately

A hardy tree with a beautiful flower

That will grow and thrive

And live to eternity

 

 

Rach

25 July 2015

 

 

– See you again soon Nanna, with all my love, Rach

John 5:28,29 –  Revelation:21:4 – John 11:11-44

 

 

 

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Look Up

 

Look Up

 

 

Look Up

 

 

 

 

I looked up at the stars last night
Burning so clear, so radiant, so bright
And wondered about galaxies distant eons away
And thought about a happy future day

 
I drifted around in my mind to a time
When all hurts are healed and everything is fine
When those sleeping safe will wake up
When life will be an endless full cup

 
I thanked my friend there up above
Who sent his dearest one with love
Who gave a gift we can never repay
A hope that can illuminate the darkest day

 
I wondered what I would have been
If I had never known it, if I had never seen
The truth, the way, that bright shining light
Like the stars above, beacons of hope in the night

 
I saw around me the ones who have given in
Those that are looking down or are looking in
They do not look above to the hope sparkling there
They only see the now, and so they despair

 
Then I saw also, those who look up in the night
They look to the future, look to the right
Those who have made a friend of that one up above
Who know his care and feel his love

 
I could see them smiling though the sun goes down
They survive the storms in which others drown
Like me, they look up to see burning stars shining still
Knowing with certainty, that their hope is real

 

 

Rach

2007

 

~ inspired by Dave and Jo…

…after Katie began her peaceful sleep ~

 

 

“We do not want you to be ignorant concerning those who are sleeping in death; that you may not sorrow just as the rest also do who have no hope.”

– 1 Thessalonians 4:13, the Apostle Paul

 

 

“Do not marvel at this, because the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who did good things to a resurrection of life, those who practiced vile things to a resurrection of judgment.”

– John 5:28, 29, Jesus Christ


The End

 

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The End

 

 

 

Hope died today

Gaunt and decayed

Fear was resurrected

Jaundiced and infected

 

Despair settled in

Baring a toothless grin

Darkness dropped its veil

Joy could not prevail

 

Trust began to burn

Never to return

Warmth exchanged for ice

An imprisoning vice

 

Poisoned minds whispering

Doubt became blistering

Truth was branded

Humiliation its standard

 

Wishing could not undo

Sorrows potent brew

Emotions frenetic undertow

Took it all in one go

 

Heart broken to the bone

Stopped with a groan

A life turned to stone

Nothing left to bemoan

 

Anger did flare

Briefly and fair

Salt water fell down

Swallowed by the ground

 

Regret rode in late

Welcome by lock and gate

An infinitely small voice

Gagged without choice

 

Reality took a bite

Dreams put to flight

A veracious dawning day

Forvever shrouded in gray

 

A pilgrims devout crusade

Abandoned without accolade

Loves poignant journey

Ended on a gurney

 

 

Rach

2006