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Whispered Conversations

When there is a gentle breeze blowing in a meadow it is as if there are voices softly talking, and the meadows in churchyards have a particular atmosphere all of their own. For me there is something so beguiling about seeing gravestones and tombs surrounded by grasses and meadow flowers. The grasses move in the wind and seem to have whispered conversations between the headstones, or perhaps they are sending messages from grave to grave. Standing there it seems as though the whole churchyard has come alive with movement and shared stories.


A gentle breeze is one thing however, but to be in a meadow in a gale is another matter entirely, especially in a churchyard such as Glynde in East Sussex, UK, where the church is situated on a hillside. Here the gale can blow quite strongly across the Downs and then the atmosphere in the churchyard becomes even more animated; the whispered words of the grasses become louder as their sentences spin around the tombs. I have visited Glynde at different times of the year, but I think one of my favourite times is when the meadow is in full bloom in May and June and then later in the summer when the grasses begin to seed. The rattle of the seed heads has its own language.

In recent years leaving the grass to grow or actually sowing a meadow to become a wildlife habitat in churchyards has become popular, managing the meadow to let the flowers and grasses seed and fall, ready for the next cycle in the coming year. After this the meadow is usually cut for winter, a crisp canvas for when the new green shoots start to appear again in the spring.

The poems and images on this page are a celebration of the meadows in English churchyards that I have visited and lingered long enough to have overheard the whispered conversations between the gravestones.  

Lance My Heart
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Photography and Poetry

By Shelley Turner

Lance My Heart

Lance my heart

With your love

I have been waiting


For so long

For this to begin

I shall probably

Never be the same

But it will be

Perfect for me

As finally I will see

You in your glory

As you were meant to be

Take me with you

I am ready

For the next story

I am ready 

For what you want me to be

I am yours



And soul


Remembering The Roses
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Photography and Poetry

By Shelley Turner

Remembering The Roses

Do you remember the roses

That were flowering that day

Blooming for you

As perfect as they could be

In a beautiful display

I wanted you to tell me

What was on your mind

I knew something was worrying you

There was a shadow on your heart

Your eyes would not meet mine

I thought this place would help you

We always loved it so

Perhaps it worked against me

You did not want to leave sad memories

Where we were once close and intertwined


So now I come and remember you

And I sit in the warm sunshine

Where you tried so hard to be kind

But now the rose petals are falling

Leaving only their thorns behind 



I can feel you calling me

Every time I visit

Am I meant to be doing this

Am I awake

Please tell me

Because I can feel you

Beginning to resist

There is a deep sorrow

I can sense around you


As if you wanted to explain

But it was a chance you missed

And its consequences

Were not what you intended

Causing so much pain

That it broke your heart

And the hurt keeps repeating

With nowhere to go

Except to spiral out around you

Again and again


Photography and Poetry

By Shelley Turner


Photography and Poetry

By Shelley Turner


Nothing felt right without you

And I know you felt the same

You talked about it when you visited

You were listless and distracted

Needing my comfort again

There had only ever been us

We had fallen in love when very young

We knew we were meant for each other

It was just unspoken, unsung

So even in death they cannot part us

So here we are many years later

Always and forever 

Marking time together

Still the same

Comment below on the poems if you would like to..
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