Sorry you found it a bit OTT. Maybe it is  but it was just my way of seeing 
things that day I suppose but will admit "woman's weeping" is a bit much, 
But women do weep over Sylvia Plath's grave She was a depressive and went 
though a lot of emotional suffeing in her short life and her suicide was so 
untimely and what other poems would we have seen if this hadn't happened.
There is an inscription on her grave about a flower blooming in fiercest 
flames which I thought was a very apted description of her. I was always 
told I used too many poetry words in my MA too. But we are all individuals I 
suppose and as I always write from my heart and what I am feeling at the 
time guess this will always happen with me. Sally J

>From: James Bell <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: new sub Heptonstall church yard
>Date: Sat, 12 Jun 2004 10:01:40 +0000
>
>I'm assuming this is the grave of a well known literary figure. One of the 
>Bronte's, Emily or Charlotte. I thinkmit does a lot of unnecessary scene 
>setting and the tone ends up being mannered, is the word that comes to me. 
>I think with a little more work you could dispense with some lazy stock 
>phrases from the book of poet's bad phase day compendium. Sorry this sounds 
>harsh. Phrases like "grave of woman's weeeping", "tipsy grave stones", 
>"petals bloomed in fiercest flames" "and tears erupted". These are all very 
>so so. I think the overall idea is of interest but its execution needs a 
>little refining. Hope this helps.
>
>
>
>bw
>James
>
>
>
>
>
>>From: Sally James <[log in to unmask]>
>>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>>To: [log in to unmask]
>>Subject: new sub Heptonstall church yard
>>Date: Fri, 4 Jun 2004 18:30:47 +0100
>>
>>Heptonstall churchyard
>>
>>Some bizarre twist of fate brought me here
>>to this place, this grave of woman’s weeping
>>The day was sunny, the blossom swayed
>>lent its perfume to the moor land wind
>>but by the church,
>>great gusts carried my breath away
>>tangled my hair, blew my skirt above my knees
>>I don’t know why I came at all
>>I was out for pleasure, to see the countryside
>>look for somewhere new to hang my hat
>>The church tower looked fierce
>>frowned, as I trod the cobbles
>>the narrow streets
>>searched the tipsy grave stones
>>that leaned port side in the
>>early summer’s howl
>>I had to ask of course
>>“Many visitors come,” he said
>>then pointed, told me
>>where the woman lay
>>But today, there was only me
>>pacing up and down the ranks
>>inspecting, looking for the poet
>>whose petals bloomed in fiercest flames
>>I found the plot at last
>>and tears erupted, spilled
>>upon her flowered bed
>>and as I cried, the church bell tolled
>>Three times.
>>
>>sally james
>>
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