Winter Wedding<\/b><\/p>\n
Bleak narrow country lane<\/p>\n
The fallen leaves are almost hidden<\/p>\n
Crushed and motionless<\/p>\n
They are colourless now<\/p>\n
A young man in a black suit and brown shoes<\/p>\n
Walks nervously towards the ancient church<\/p>\n
He is careful to avoid the deceptively deep puddles<\/p>\n
For his sister is due to marry her love<\/p>\n
In the quiet hours before the day fades<\/p>\n
Into its long rural night<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Laurenthes\u00a0\u00a0Braag<\/b><\/p>\n
Free but still chained<\/p>\n
You appreciate your false freedom<\/p>\n
And are celebrated by many in the town<\/p>\n
But your home is thousands of miles distant<\/p>\n
And you know that you will never return<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In Reading in Berkshire there is a church memorial dedicated to the memory of Laurenthes Braag a Danish merchant late of the West Indies who found himself as a prisoner of war on parole in the English town.<\/i><\/p>\n
He died there on the 3rd<\/sup>\u00a0of September 1808 aged twenty-six <\/p>\n First Communion<\/b><\/p>\n Whilst taking my first communion with my adored sisters<\/p>\n I looked up at the Virgin and urgently wanted to kiss her passionately<\/p>\n On her ruby red lips<\/p>\n This feeling stayed with me for most of the day<\/p>\n A week later I became ill with the measles<\/p>\n Which laid me low for over a month<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Plural\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n In the hours before Mass I listen to my sisters laughing<\/p>\n As they jest together in their in their small cool rooms<\/p>\n I cannot attend Mass as my blindness has returned<\/p>\n This saddens me<\/p>\n Once a week a priest visits our modest house<\/p>\n We feed him well with soup and rough bread<\/p>\n As he is often hungry and appears to be wasting away<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Priest Drowning\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n Last month I rescued a priest from drowning<\/p>\n I still await my reward<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Equidistance<\/b><\/p>\n Six months ago the sun was high in the perfect sky and the air was agreeable to all<\/p>\n Our weather today is different with heavy cloud obscuring the winter warm sun<\/p>\n The breeze is still mild but the fields no longer scream<\/p>\n It\u2019s Local Phillip<\/b><\/p>\n I travel by train each day but both my journeys are shrouded in darkness and therefore have not seen the new bridge in all its magnificence<\/p>\n Only its ghost appears as I pass through the station<\/p>\n I am perfectly satisfied with its haunting<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In late December 2017 a new footbridge was erected at Newbury Railway Station in West Berkshire Silent Poems<\/b><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n Winter Morning<\/b><\/p>\n The scarce birds patrol the orange wisp sky<\/p>\n I can see them clearly through the winter trees<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bright Sun<\/b><\/p>\n Bright sun illuminating the barren fields<\/p>\n You do not play cards well<\/p>\n As I am aware of your hand<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Silence<\/b><\/p>\n I am deafened by the silence of the countryside<\/p>\n It whistles with ceasing but does not abandon you<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Two Magpies<\/b><\/p>\n I throw a sandwich into the fading fallow field<\/p>\n Two magpies show an interest but do not gather my gift<\/p>\n When they have determined my departure<\/p>\n They will feast without interruption<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Winter Wedding Bleak narrow country lane The fallen leaves are almost hidden Crushed and motionless They are colourless now A young man in a black suit and brown shoes Walks nervously towards the ancient church He is careful to avoid the deceptively deep puddles For his sister is due to marry her love In the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10026","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10026","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10026"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10026\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10027,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10026\/revisions\/10027"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10026"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10026"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10026"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/i><\/p>\n
\n<\/i><\/p>\n