stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 17200
    [post_author] => 5
    [post_date] => 2016-09-09 10:09:06
    [post_date_gmt] => 2016-09-09 10:09:06
    [post_content] => Within the Parish church of Buckfast, Devon, burned in an arson attack,
and after the art installation, 'Anti Mass' (2005) by Cornelia Parker.

After an age   one bird does cry out above this place
one in a rush    passing over     the aftertaste
is a pull of breeze through summer branches
and me   I'm sat in the ribcage of this gutted
roasted whale of a god house   sat on the side

where the bones are shattered
Where all I can see of piety is a celtic cross
a crying face   where charcoal fragments
ash and scorches have been air-brushed
the altar   chapels   and tracery windows

have taken on wildflowers   here is air
and shadow patterns   spaces for the unexpected
aerobatics of swallows
                                              hate far off      burned
another church                  a creator noticed
saw the black char as emblematic

ripe for hanging from puppet wires  ripe
for hanging like an explosion   held
at the midpoint of its moment   devoid
of sound and weight   dark light that beacons
beckons one to spear a thought.
    [post_title] => Anti Mass
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => anti-mass
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2016-09-09 10:57:26
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-09-09 10:57:26
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=17200
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2016
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was a winner of the BBC Proms Poetry Competition. The competition asked people to write poems inspired by a piece of music from the 2016 Proms Season. This poem was inspired by La Péri - Poème dansé by Paul Dukas.

Judged by poet and The Verb presenter Ian McMillan, Scottish Makar Jackie Kay and Poetry Society Director Judith Palmer, the winning poems were announced at an event on BBC Radio 3 as part of the Proms Season 2016. [wpcf-rights-information] => [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, BBC Proms Poetry Competition 2016 (adult category) [wpcf_pr_belongs] => ) [poet_data] => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 16569 [forename] => [surname] => [title] => Graham Burchell [slug] => graham-burchell [content] => Graham Burchell was born in Canterbury and now lives in South Devon. He has an M.A. in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University. His third collection Kate was published in May 2015. He was the 2012 Canterbury Festival Poet of the Year, and is a 2013 Hawthornden Fellow. He is also chair of the Dartmoor based Moor Poets and one of the team of four responsible for the Teignmouth Poetry Festival.   PD- ) )
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 16569
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Graham Burchell
    [slug] => graham-burchell
    [content] => Graham Burchell was born in Canterbury and now lives in South Devon. He has an M.A. in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University. His third collection Kate was published in May 2015. He was the 2012 Canterbury Festival Poet of the Year, and is a 2013 Hawthornden Fellow. He is also chair of the Dartmoor based Moor Poets and one of the team of four responsible for the Teignmouth Poetry Festival.

 

PD-
)

Anti Mass

Graham Burchell

Within the Parish church of Buckfast, Devon, burned in an arson attack,
and after the art installation, ‘Anti Mass’ (2005) by Cornelia Parker.

After an age   one bird does cry out above this place
one in a rush    passing over     the aftertaste
is a pull of breeze through summer branches
and me   I’m sat in the ribcage of this gutted
roasted whale of a god house   sat on the side

where the bones are shattered
Where all I can see of piety is a celtic cross
a crying face   where charcoal fragments
ash and scorches have been air-brushed
the altar   chapels   and tracery windows

have taken on wildflowers   here is air
and shadow patterns   spaces for the unexpected
aerobatics of swallows
                                              hate far off      burned
another church                  a creator noticed
saw the black char as emblematic

ripe for hanging from puppet wires  ripe
for hanging like an explosion   held
at the midpoint of its moment   devoid
of sound and weight   dark light that beacons
beckons one to spear a thought.