Tag Archives: R.I.P.

RHL, ‘R.I.P. the English Girl in the Bahamas’

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There was a young girl who married a pirate
They boarded a ship called La Mouette.
They had a ship’s cat and also a parrot –
Well, if not a parrot, a noisy old rooster –
And a couple of cabin-boys who called her Mum –
And a sea-dog of course, or at least they used to.
They dressed up in finery, drank lots of rum…
They sailed ever sunwards, and they’re sailing yet.

*****

People who move to the Bahamas are an odd and interesting bunch, which is fine because it’s an odd and interesting country… but then, so is everyone, everywhere. Anyway, this particular lady (or one somewhat similar in some ways) and her family lived across the street from me, growing up.

This poem was first published in Snakeskin‘s recent edition of short poems.

“Pirate family” by Graham Ó Síodhacháin is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

R.I.P. – X.J. Kennedy, ‘Epitaphs’

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I who in life stood upright as a tree
Have found a still more basic way to be.

—

Dirt was I made from, back to dirt I went.
Envy me now. I’m in my element.

—

The hardest part of dying is to turn
Your back on that deep calm for which you burn.

*****

X.J. Kennedy, one the greatest and most active formalists of the late 20th century, died last week at the age of 96. Short pieces like his ‘Epitaphs’ can be found in the Brief Poems blog; longer and somewhat less flippant pieces all over the place, including in Poetry. He published dozens of collections of verse for adults and children.