Now I know what a good thing it is to draw a blank when it comes to writing a new post. Today my small world doesn’t need my thoughts. Even better, I don’t need my own thoughts. Lacking things to say shuts my mouth and opens doors to the thoughts and writings of others. I have sheepskin granting me a Bachelor of Arts English Literature, yet W. H. Auden never showed up on a class curriculum. The other day a friend introduced me to a poem. Probably everybody but me is familiar with it as it was featured in a movie: “Four Weddings and a Funeral” Familiar as it may be, it is always worth another read.

‘Funeral Blues aka Stop All the Clocks’

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, 
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, 
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum 
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead 
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, 
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West, 
My working week and my Sunday rest, 
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. 
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. 

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; 
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. 
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. 
For nothing now can ever come to any good. 

W. H. Auden