‘R.I.P x 2’
...a sweet elegy in dual tones…
R.I.P x 2
Tag: Cemetery
Church & Graveyard
‘Church & Graveyard’
Elegaic
‘Elegaic’
The inscription on the tall memorial stone reads “in loving memory”.
But those who loved, and held those memories, have passed into memory too.
It’s an endless elegy we all recite.
This Side Of The Grave (Gothic View)
‘This Side Of The Grave (Gothic View)’
This Side Of The Grave
‘This Side Of The Grave’
Stone Box (Final Destination)
In the previous post Boxed In ,I touched on the boxes that we end up in.
In my recent travels in Scotland, I came across this ancient stone version in a cemetery at St. Andrews. Pretty impressive; nicely ergonomically tapered and contoured to fit the deceased’s head. Top design marks.
I suspect it was for someone of some importance. You wouldn’t go to all that bother for a regular dude or dudess.
Important person or not, as the pop-punk bard Wreckless Eric once said,” there’s only one destination in the final taxi”.
And on that cheery note, I too shall depart…
Gravestones And Battlements
It was a dismal weekday afternoon as we trekked towards Calton Hill in Edinburgh.
Then, joy of joys, just before our destination I saw some stone stairs leading up to a small cemetery.
Like a rat up a drainpipe, I quickly found my way to this vista, with looming castle battlements to ice the proverbial cake.
Victorian gothic nirvana!
I would have lingered, but my wife and daughter were less than impressed with another funereal photographic detour.
I rejoined them, and when we reached the top of the Hill, the drizzle became hard rain, forming waterfalls down the steps.
So wet, so grey…and I was so happy with it all.
Sometimes I wonder what the f**k is wrong with me.
Whistlin’ Past The Graveyard
“I come into town on a night train with an arm full of boxcars
On the wings of a magpie cross a hooligan night
I’m gonna tear me off a rainbow and wear it for a tie
I never told the truth so I can never tell a lie
Whistlin’ past the graveyard, stepping on a crack
Me and mother hubbard Papa one-eyed jack”
– Tom Waits ,‘Whistlin’ Past The Graveyard’ (1978).
One of the greatest songs about the resting place of the dead ever written!
Well, compared to songs about love, it’s a relatively small sample size, granted.
The way the gravel-voiced one growls and rasps his blues braggadocio poetry is pure (black) magic.
Excellent slink-through-the-night creep factor, but damn hard to whistle…
Link to the song below:
Pure And Blessed
“Blessed are the pure in heart” reads the inscription on this grave in a cemetery close to where I live. Great words, and maybe they befitted the deceased.
If memory serves me correctly, the words are those of Jesus ,from the Sermon on the Mount.
You can cast doubt on religion, but not those words.
When we and our motives are pure – and it may not be much of the time (in my case anyway!) -things, blessings, flow, on and through us ,upon the world around us.
You don’t have to be the Dalai Lama or Mother Theresa – anyone can know those small moments of purity when you do the right thing for the right reasons or are the right person in the right place at the right time.
Purity.
Simple but elusive and fleeting.
You can’t seek it, any more than you can blessings.
But when a moment or someone is pure you just know.
And are blessed.
Ebb Then Flood 