Saturday, 21 July 2018

Sunflower Story

A gentleman in our village recently died. He was very well liked and there was a large memorial service for him. He was also a poet, and one of his poems was on display on top of the font. I hope - wherever he is now - he won't mind me sharing.


    Sunflowers, like people, stand up and
    look over fences,
    drop their faces against the wind,
    drive artists insane.

    Big yellow suns,
    the compact core shimmering,
    the fire-tongued petals.
    No surprise if sunflowers walked,
    a natural movement for their fluid stems,
    the gesturing leaves.

    But these bodies of fire
    burn themselves out,
    like a spent man bent and withered,
    pathetic victims of their own fierce glory,
    the ages of man,
    the sunflower story.

    - Nigel Townsend

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