A good send off.

[MANICHAEAN]

Chapter 1.

His eighty second birthday was spent quietly at home. He had fed the birds in the garden as usual and observered their unregulated behaviour through the open verandah door. This reliable source of daily food had built up a cohort of regular customers, namely: a pair of robust pigeons and soft grey doves, a singular robin that viewed him with curiosity and a flock of sparrows he called "The Twelve Apostles". Too many to count with any degree of accuracy, it was akin a squadron of dive bombers in attack mode.

However I digress. Being his birthday, thoughts strayed to the concept of mortality, not in a morbid way, but as a precursor to acceptance of what he realised was the final chapter.

Too many kin and friends had crossed the Jordan already; many disturbingly much younger than himself.

So he determined in the week that lay ahead to visit the local funeral parlour in town and make the necessary arrangements.

Life however, and even death can be fickle as he was soon about to discern.

Overhead, high and in the distance a red kite soared in the clear blue sky of England looking for carrion. A bird of prey more exotic than the lesser creatures in the garden, yet not feared by mere mortals.

[joseph engraver]

Good stiff sir

[MANICHAEAN]

Thank you Joe.

[tailor STATELY]

Enjoying :)

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor

[MANICHAEAN]

Chapter 2.

Let us for a moment stand back and imagine the status and views of our hero. What one aspiring human resources officer once called one's "hopes, fears and aspirations."

Well for a start he was rich, very rich.

The result of working overseas for thirty five years in a quite lucrative occupation. But now he was preparing in a cold blooded way for his demise. His will was in place and up to date, along with power of attorney in case he went ga ga. But he was by now obsessively concerned; nay "paranoid " about death duties to be borne by his close family and friends, before they could enjoy the rewards of his hard work.

"Inheritance Tax" as it is named in the U.K was to his mind insidious. Introduced initially to curb the passing of huge landed estates to privileged heirs. But like any new tax, it's scope spread with serpentine stealth. Currently when one dies in the UK, anything over £365,000, including: house, car, bank accounts, shares etc is taxed at 40% before the beneficiaries get their hands on whats left.

He could of course bequeth it all to charity or wife tax free. Suffice to say in his case, the latter was not an option. Separated for many years, she had had her credit cards cut up many times before by spending like there was no tomorrow.

But let us return to his dilemma. For a start he was not into being buried. The film " Kill Bill" buried alive sequence had put that to bed. Plus reading of historical instances where coffins were opened to see a skeleton in a desperate pose trying to scratch its way out. No wonder in times gone by they instigated the "death" or "dog" watch, where a string and a bell outside the interred grave was attached to the finger of the supposed corpse, in case he woke up to find himself six feet under.

The author Frederick Forsyth had come up once with a story of an individual in similiar circumstances, with no wife or kids, but an extended family of potential beneficiaries whom he despised. He arranged to be buried at sea in a coffin that nobody knew was solid gold. Hence beating the saying "You can't take it with you." Clever but impractical in this instance.

[tailor STATELY]

"where a string and a bell outside the interred grave was attached to the finger of the supposed corpse, in case he woke up to find himself six feet under." Lol, this was the premise when I wrote this poem:


Bluebell's Blue

In a forgotten meadow
Late in May
Sometimes when scarlet
Precedes the azure skye
A spider's web strand
Bejeweled with dew
Will tug upon the
Bluebell's blue
Shaking it from
Its sleepy sleep
Waking it to the
Smell of dusky lavender
Emanating from the deep

3/17/2011

Does it resonate ?

Your protagonist has quite the dilemma, what with the tax system in the UK. A burial at sea, after all precautions taken to make sure one was truly deceased (brain scans, etc.), sounds rather poetic to me :)

Looking forward to your resolution :)

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor

[Danik 2016]

A rather depressing theme treated with British humour.One learns a bit about English taxes. 40٪ is a lot. And no children or grandchildren it seems. Here people often get cremated instead of buried.The cemeteries in S Paulo are so full of people that it is difficult to find a grave. And if you don't want the body to be exumated to leave room for someone else you have to pay an eternal maintenance tax. And the cemeteries are robbed regularly.


Enjoyed your poem, tailor. I
Maybe I read it before, but didn't know about the attached bell.

[MANICHAEAN]

Thanks Tailor. Your poem does in fact resonate; in a more light hearted and oblique manner than my rather raw piece. Resolution ? Who knows !! A few thoughts for the next chapter, but that's the enjoyment sometimes, not knowing the destination.

Danik my friend. I thought burial was hard throughout history in my country, but S.Paulo beats us Brits hands down. I promise the next chapter will be a bit more cheerful i.e. the actual visit to the funeral director. Not exactly like popping into the supermarket.