At St Michael’s


It’s just the old church, blue clock face,
Another building, commonplace.
How many people passing by
Have ever paused to briefly try
And wake its sleeping history?
Each stone weighed down with mystery,
With lives forgotten, lost romance.
See how the tower stands askance
And angled in the lurch
From the body of the church?
It’s been like that a thousand years.
A witness to so many tiers
Of time; events this old place saw,
From Jacobites to civil war.
The dissolution, wakes and plague –
All echoes of some by gone age.
The carving added, almost lately,
Has bared it arse since fourteen eighty.
The vicars’ board, a pick and mix
Of names; eleven ninety-six
The oldest. Norman columns, skewed,
Hold sagging eaves above the pews
And have done for nine hundred years.
The squint where lepers used to peer
On services. All firebrands,
Inscribed by history’s heavy hand,
And yet, we walk past every day,
Without a glance. Just commonplace.

12 responses to “At St Michael’s

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Planetary Defense Command

Defending the planet from bad science fiction


story telling with an iPhone

Echoes of the Past

Exploration of the Past

Juliette W Gregson Heritage Photography

Preserving the past for the future....

northumbrian : light

Random thoughts from deepest Northumberland

the hour of soft light...

How do I know what I think until I see what I say? (E.M. Forster)


Blogs by jojohedgehog


world of poetry and spokenword

Gerald's space

Welcome to my world!


...poetry, stories & rants.

Syncopated Eyeball

Creepy Spooky Lovely Nice

The numpty with a camera

Happily capturing moments in life.

%d bloggers like this: