Yorkshire poet and writer came into my mind while reading a lovely poem on The Daily Haiku. It was about a church not having to possess walls.
This led me to thinking of this poem which is darker in tone but carries the same concept.
You may think having a deceased poet in my “Guest Poet” slot a little strange, but I rather like it! I should perhaps re-name it “The Dead Poets’ Society.” No sooner thought than done.
**Ammon Wrigley was an English poet and local historian from Saddleworth, which was in the West Riding of Yorkshire during his life and is now in the Metropolitan Bourough of Oldham in Greater Manchester.
Wrigley was born at Oxhey, Denshaw, Saddleworth, on 10 October 1861, in a poor working family. His father was a mill worker, and he had one younger brother, Charles. The family moved to Castleshaw and he attended school there but started half-time mill work at the age of nine, and worked in local woolen mills all his life. He married Emily Hudson in 1890 and died on 31 August 1946. At his request his ashes were scattered around the Dinner Stone, a rock formation on Standedge, on the moors above Saddleworth.
Wrigley published many works of poetry and local history.: 5 His first financially successful publication was in 1910. His second book in 1912 was supported by public subscription and on its publication he was presented with a cheque for 100 guineas (£105) and his wife received a watch.
He illustrated some of his works, and Saddleworth Museum holds two of his seascapes and several other paintings and drawings.
The poet Glyn Hughes described Wrigley as “didactic and sentimental”, and in discussing Hughes’ book William Atkins refers to Wrigley as “Saddleworth’s poet laureate” and says of him that he “saw the moor as an enemy to be vanquished – a glowering menace, forever threatening to retake the cultivated land”.
The Ammon Wrigley Fellowship Society was formed on 27 August 1931 at a meeting held in Austerlands, to honour the poet during his lifetime. It held meetings until 1982 and its papers are held by Saddleworth Museum**
The Dinner Stone
Where the old rock stands weathered and lone
And black as night, turned into stone,
There's a green church I call my own
Take my ashes and scatter them there,
Roughly or kindly, just as you care.
©Ammon Wrigley 1861- 1946