The sad news of the death of the poet and novelist Helen Dunmore at the age of 64 came just a few days after her subtle and warmly human poem, The Place of Ordinary Souls, was aired here. Her admirable talents stretched from the powerfully imagined novel about the Siege of Leningrad in the Second World War, to many volumes for children, and 10 collections of poetry.

Here, as a small tribute to her fastidious creative gifts, are two short, poignant, pieces from her last collection, Inside the Wave (Bloodaxe Books,£9.95).

THE SHAFT

I don’t need to go to the sun –

It lies on my pillow.

~

Without movement or speech

Day deepens its sweetness.

~

Sea shanties from the water,

A brush of traffic,

~

But it’s quiet here.

Who would have thought that pain

~

And weakness had such gifts

Hidden in their rough hearts?

MY LIFE’S STEM WAS CUT

My life’s stem was cut,

But quickly, lovingly

I was lifted up,

I heard the rush of the tap

And I was set in water

In the blue vase, beautiful

In lip and curve,

And here I am

Opening one petal

As the tea cools.

I wait while the sun moves

And the bees finish their dancing,

I know I am dying

But why not keep flowering

As long as I can
from my cut stem?