Sunday, 23 October 2011

The Sunday post

See these hands folded now,
Hands that wrought for so many,
Tended and tidied a family,
Soothed them and calmed them,
Fed, clothed and reared them
Almost on nothing.

See these hands resting
That in the old hard days
Picked blackberries for pennies
And gathered dry sticks in bundles,
In dim March days I scarcely remember
When beech woods were a mystery
And fox cubs played among daffodils.

See these hands resting,
That raked hay in the fields
Of a summer coloured with butterflies,
That brought tea and sandwiches
To tired men at harvest,
And scattered wheat and Argentinian maize
To hungry hens.

See these hands, hands never still,
Hands they have folded now,
Hands that are resting,
That will never be active again,
Long though I kneel for their blessing.

Frank Mansell.


Kat_RN said...

How very sweet and how very sad. Really puts you in the moment. Reminds me of my Mom.

Twisted Scottish Bastard said...

Evocative and sad. But has she really passed-away or just pissed?

lom said...

That has brought a tear to my eye

At last I have been having a bit of trouble commenting here.

Alistair said...

AW sorry lom. Not what was intended. It just struck a chord with me. It wasn't meant to have anyone howling.

I can be a bit maudlin' sometimes. I'll try and be a bit more upbeat!

lom said...

You be however you want to be Alistair, I don't take it personaly

PokerLawyer said...


Alistair said...



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