Wednesday, July 21

A Poem For Thursday

We were staying in Southwold in 1997 the day the news broke about the death of Diana . She was an East Anglian before she was Princess of Wales and the feeling was strong in both directions! So as the previous post is all about that lovely land I thought I 'd put this up for Thursday.

The News (at Southwold)

On the day Diana died
Tall reeds mourned at Snape.
Gently keening in the winds
In that sister land of Anglia.
And I, a Brit and Celt at that,
Already grieving in the year of 97,
Wept for the English loss.
For the vulnerable chased down time
By demons eager to pursue
And jump on show of weakness.

We – always glancing behind
Fearfully seeking happiness
In the unremitting winds of fortune.
Something broke inside the Anglish
on that day,
And someone decided it was an end,
And looked for a new beginning.

On the day Diana died
White horses leaped and crashed on Anglian shores,
Urged on by winds of discontent.
While Scottish Anglicans ignored the news
And a woman waved just once.
“ She was always waving even when she was drowning”.

On the day Diana died
Lord Nelson opened up his welcoming Arms
And though the waves were tinged with pink,
Beer was drunk and dogs barked.
Old wags told tales and tails wagged.
No more battles were fought in Sole Bay
And life went on.


  1. An impressive work on what I think must be one of the most difficult subjects to attempt. References beautifully worked in.


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