ANCIEN RÉGIME
I
Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,
May gaze thro' these faint smokes curling whitely,
As thou pliest thy trade in this devil's-smithy--
Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?
II
He is with her, and they know that I know
Where they are, what they do: they believe my tears flow
While they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drear
Empty church, to pray God in, for them!--I am here.
III
Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste,
Pound at thy powder,--I am not in haste!
Better sit thus and observe thy strange things,
Than go where men wait me and dance at the King's.
IV
That in the mortar--you call it a gum?
Ah, the brave tree whence such gold oozings come!
And yonder soft phial, the exquisite blue,
Sure to taste sweetly,--is that poison too?
V
Had I but all of them, thee and thy treasures,
What a wild crowd of invisible pleasures!
To carry pure death in an earring, a casket,
A signet, a fan-mount, a filigree basket!
VI
Soon, at the King's, a mere lozenge to give
And Pauline should have just thirty minutes to live!
But to light a pastile, and Elise, with her head
And her breast and her arms and her hands, should drop dead!
VII
Quick-is it finished? The colour's too grim!
Why not soft like the phial's, enticing and dim?
Let it brighten her drink, let her turn it and stir,
And try it and taste, ere she fix and prefer!
VIII
What a drop! She's not little, no minion like me--
That's why she ensnared him: this never will free
The soul from those masculine eyes,--say, "no!"
To that pulse's magnificent come-and-go.
IX
For only last night, as they whispered, I brought
My own eyes to bear on her so, that I thought
Could I keep them one half minute fixed, she would fall,
Shrivelled; she fell not; yet this does it all!
X
Not that I bid you spare her the pain!
Let death be felt and the proof remain;
Brand, burn up, bite into its grace--
He is sure to remember her dying face!
XI
Is it done? Take my mask off! Nay, be not morose;
It kills her, and this prevents seeing it close:
The delicate droplet, my whole fortune's fee--
If it hurts her, beside, can it ever hurt me?
XII
Now, take all my jewels, gorge gold to your fill,
You may kiss me, old man, on my mouth if you will!
But brush this dust off me, lest horror it brings
Ere I know it--next moment I dance at the King's!
Robert Browning 1845
Saturday, 20 March 2010
On my first Sonne - pre 1914
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now! For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,
And if no other misery, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry."
For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.
Ben Jonson
1616
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now! For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,
And if no other misery, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry."
For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.
Ben Jonson
1616
Salome
I'd done it before
(and doubtless I'll do it again,
sooner or later)
woke up with a head on the pillow beside me -whose? -
what did it matter?
Good- looking, of course, dark hair, rather matted;
the reddish beard several shades lighter;
with very deep lines around the eyes,
from pain, I'd guess, maybe laughter;
and a beautiful crimson mouth that obviously knew
how to flatter...
which I kissed...
Colder than pewter.
Strange. What was his name? Peter?
Simon? Andrew? John? J knew I'd feel better
for tea, dry toast, no butter,
so rang for the maid.
And, indeed, her innocent clatter
of cups and plates,
her clearing of clutter,
her regional patter,
were just what needed -
hungover and wrecked as J was from a night on the batter.
Never again!
I needed to clean up my act,
get fitter,
cut out the booze and the fags and the sex.
Yes. And as for the latter,
it was time to turf out the blighter,
the beater or biter,
who'd come like a lamb to the slaughter
to Salome's bed.
In tile mirror, I saw my eyes glitter.
I flung back the sticky red sheets,
and there, like I said -and ain't life a bitch -
was his head on a platter.
(and doubtless I'll do it again,
sooner or later)
woke up with a head on the pillow beside me -whose? -
what did it matter?
Good- looking, of course, dark hair, rather matted;
the reddish beard several shades lighter;
with very deep lines around the eyes,
from pain, I'd guess, maybe laughter;
and a beautiful crimson mouth that obviously knew
how to flatter...
which I kissed...
Colder than pewter.
Strange. What was his name? Peter?
Simon? Andrew? John? J knew I'd feel better
for tea, dry toast, no butter,
so rang for the maid.
And, indeed, her innocent clatter
of cups and plates,
her clearing of clutter,
her regional patter,
were just what needed -
hungover and wrecked as J was from a night on the batter.
Never again!
I needed to clean up my act,
get fitter,
cut out the booze and the fags and the sex.
Yes. And as for the latter,
it was time to turf out the blighter,
the beater or biter,
who'd come like a lamb to the slaughter
to Salome's bed.
In tile mirror, I saw my eyes glitter.
I flung back the sticky red sheets,
and there, like I said -and ain't life a bitch -
was his head on a platter.
Anne Hathaway
'Item I gyve unto my wife my second best bed...'
(from Shakespeare's will)
The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.
(from Shakespeare's will)
The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.
Havisham
Beloved sweetheart bastard. Not a day since then
I haven't wished him dead, Prayed for it
so hard I've dark green pebbles for eyes,
ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.
Spinster. I stink and remember. Whole days
in bed cawing Nooooo at the wall; the dress
yellowing, trembling if I open the wardrobe;
the slewed mirror, full-length, her, myself, who did this
to me? Puce curses that are sounds not words.
Some nights better, the lost body over me,
my fluent tongue in its mouth in its ear
then down till I suddenly bite awake. Love's
hate behind a white veil; a red balloon bursting
in my face. Bang. I stabbed at a wedding-cake.
Give me a male corpse for a long slow honeymoon.
Don't think it's only the heart that b-b-b-breaks.
I haven't wished him dead, Prayed for it
so hard I've dark green pebbles for eyes,
ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.
Spinster. I stink and remember. Whole days
in bed cawing Nooooo at the wall; the dress
yellowing, trembling if I open the wardrobe;
the slewed mirror, full-length, her, myself, who did this
to me? Puce curses that are sounds not words.
Some nights better, the lost body over me,
my fluent tongue in its mouth in its ear
then down till I suddenly bite awake. Love's
hate behind a white veil; a red balloon bursting
in my face. Bang. I stabbed at a wedding-cake.
Give me a male corpse for a long slow honeymoon.
Don't think it's only the heart that b-b-b-breaks.
Kid
Batman, big shot, when you gave the order
to grow up, then let me loose to wander
leeward, freely through the wild blue yonder
as you liked to say, or ditched me, rather,
in the gutter ...well, I turned the corner.
Now I've scotched that 'he was like a father
to me' rumour, sacked it, blown the cover
on that 'he was like an elder brother'
story, let the cat out on that caper
with the married woman, how you took her
downtown on expenses in the motor.
Holy robin-redbreast-nest-egg-shocker!
Holy roll-meover-in-the-clover,
I'm not playing ball boy any longer
Batman, now I've doffed that off-the-shoulder
Sherwood-Forest-green and scarlet number
for a pair of jeans and crew-neck jumper;
now I'm taller, harder, stronger, older.
Batman, it makes a marvellous picture:
you without a shadow, stewing over
chicken giblets in the pressure cooker,
next to nothing in the walk-in larder,
punching the palm of your hand all winter,
you baby, now I'm the real boy wonder.
to grow up, then let me loose to wander
leeward, freely through the wild blue yonder
as you liked to say, or ditched me, rather,
in the gutter ...well, I turned the corner.
Now I've scotched that 'he was like a father
to me' rumour, sacked it, blown the cover
on that 'he was like an elder brother'
story, let the cat out on that caper
with the married woman, how you took her
downtown on expenses in the motor.
Holy robin-redbreast-nest-egg-shocker!
Holy roll-meover-in-the-clover,
I'm not playing ball boy any longer
Batman, now I've doffed that off-the-shoulder
Sherwood-Forest-green and scarlet number
for a pair of jeans and crew-neck jumper;
now I'm taller, harder, stronger, older.
Batman, it makes a marvellous picture:
you without a shadow, stewing over
chicken giblets in the pressure cooker,
next to nothing in the walk-in larder,
punching the palm of your hand all winter,
you baby, now I'm the real boy wonder.
November
We walk to the ward from the badly parked car
with your grandma taking four short steps to our two.
We have brought her here to die and we know it.
You check her towel. soap and family trinkets,
pare her nails, parcel her in the rough blankets
and she sinks down into her incontinence.
It is time John. In their pasty bloodless smiles,
in their slack breasts, their stunned brains and their baldness
and in us John: we are almost these monsters.
You're shattered. You give me the keys and I drive
through the twilight zone, past the famous station
to your house, to numb ourselves with alcohol.
Inside, we feel the terror of the dusk begin.
Outside we watch the evening, failing again,
and we let it happen. We can say nothing.
Sometimes the sun spangles and we feel alive.
One thing we have to get, John, out of this life.
with your grandma taking four short steps to our two.
We have brought her here to die and we know it.
You check her towel. soap and family trinkets,
pare her nails, parcel her in the rough blankets
and she sinks down into her incontinence.
It is time John. In their pasty bloodless smiles,
in their slack breasts, their stunned brains and their baldness
and in us John: we are almost these monsters.
You're shattered. You give me the keys and I drive
through the twilight zone, past the famous station
to your house, to numb ourselves with alcohol.
Inside, we feel the terror of the dusk begin.
Outside we watch the evening, failing again,
and we let it happen. We can say nothing.
Sometimes the sun spangles and we feel alive.
One thing we have to get, John, out of this life.
Night of the Scorpion
I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room-
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made
his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said.
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites
to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
and spared my children.
Nissim Ezekiel
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room-
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made
his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said.
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites
to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
and spared my children.
Nissim Ezekiel
Blessing
The skin cracks like a pod.
There never is enough water.
Imagine the drip of it,
the small splash, echo
in a tin mug,
the voice of a kindly god.
Sometimes, the sudden rush
of fortune. The municipal pipe bursts,
silver crashes to the ground
and the flow has found
a roar of tongues. From the huts,
a congregation: every man woman child for streets around
butts in, with pots,
~ass, copper, aluminium,
plastic buckets,
frantic hands,
and naked children
screaming in the liquid sun,
their highlights polished to perfection,
flashing light,
as the blessing sings
over their small bones.
Imtiaz Dharker
There never is enough water.
Imagine the drip of it,
the small splash, echo
in a tin mug,
the voice of a kindly god.
Sometimes, the sudden rush
of fortune. The municipal pipe bursts,
silver crashes to the ground
and the flow has found
a roar of tongues. From the huts,
a congregation: every man woman child for streets around
butts in, with pots,
~ass, copper, aluminium,
plastic buckets,
frantic hands,
and naked children
screaming in the liquid sun,
their highlights polished to perfection,
flashing light,
as the blessing sings
over their small bones.
Imtiaz Dharker
Hurricane Hits England
It took a hurricane, to bring her closer
To the landscape.
Half the night she lay awake,
The howling ship of the wind,
Its gathering rage,
Like some dark ancestral spectre.
Fearful and reassuring.
Talk to me Huracan
Talk to me Oya
Talk to me Shango
And Hattie,
My sweeping, back-home cousin.
Tell me why you visit
An English coast?
What is the meaning
Of old tongues
Reaping havoc
In new places?
The blinding illumination,
Even as you short-
Circuit us
Into further darkness?
What is the meaning of trees
Falling heavy as whales
Their crusted roots
Their cratered graves?
O why is my heart unchained?
Tropical Oya of the Weather,
I am aligning myself to you,
I am following the movement of your winds,
I am riding the mystery of your storm.
Ah, sweet mystery,
Come to break the frozen lake in me,
Shaking the foundations of the very trees within me,
Come to let me know
That the earth is the earth is the earth.
Grace Nichols
To the landscape.
Half the night she lay awake,
The howling ship of the wind,
Its gathering rage,
Like some dark ancestral spectre.
Fearful and reassuring.
Talk to me Huracan
Talk to me Oya
Talk to me Shango
And Hattie,
My sweeping, back-home cousin.
Tell me why you visit
An English coast?
What is the meaning
Of old tongues
Reaping havoc
In new places?
The blinding illumination,
Even as you short-
Circuit us
Into further darkness?
What is the meaning of trees
Falling heavy as whales
Their crusted roots
Their cratered graves?
O why is my heart unchained?
Tropical Oya of the Weather,
I am aligning myself to you,
I am following the movement of your winds,
I am riding the mystery of your storm.
Ah, sweet mystery,
Come to break the frozen lake in me,
Shaking the foundations of the very trees within me,
Come to let me know
That the earth is the earth is the earth.
Grace Nichols
Presents from my Aunts in Pakistan
They sent me a salwar kameez
peacock-blue,
and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
in Pakistan -
the salwar bottoms were broad and stiff,
then narrow.
My aunts chose an apple-green sari,
silver-bordered
for my teens.
I tried each satin-silken top -
was alien in the sitting-room.
I could never be as lovely "
as those clothes-
I longed
for denim and corduroy.
My costume clung to me
and I was aflame,
I couldn't rise up out of its fire,
half-English,
unlike Aunt Jamila.
I wanted my parents' camel-skin lamp-
switching it on in my bedroom,
to consider the cruelty
and the transformation
from camel to shade,
marvel at the colours
like stained glass.
My mother cherished her jewellery -
Indian gold, dangling, filligree.
But it was stolen from our car.
The presents were radiant in my wardrobe.
My aunts requested cardigans
from Marks and Spencers.
My salwar kameez
didn't impress the schoolfriend
who sat on my bed, asked to see
my weekend clothes.
But often I admired the mirror-work,
tried to glimpse myself
in the miniature
glass circles, recall the story
how the three of us
sailed to England.
Prickly heat had me screaming on the way.
I ended up in a cot
in my English grandmother's dining-room,
found myself alone,
playing with a tin boat.
I pictured my birthplace
from fifties' photographs.
When I was older
there was conflict, a fractured land
throbbing through newsprint.
Sometimes I saw Lahore -
my aunts in shaded rooms,
screened from male visitors,
sorting presents,
wrapping them in tissue.
Or there were beggars, sweeper-girls
and I was there-
of no fixed nationality,
staring through fretwork
at the Shalimar Gardens.
Moniza AZvi
peacock-blue,
and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
in Pakistan -
the salwar bottoms were broad and stiff,
then narrow.
My aunts chose an apple-green sari,
silver-bordered
for my teens.
I tried each satin-silken top -
was alien in the sitting-room.
I could never be as lovely "
as those clothes-
I longed
for denim and corduroy.
My costume clung to me
and I was aflame,
I couldn't rise up out of its fire,
half-English,
unlike Aunt Jamila.
I wanted my parents' camel-skin lamp-
switching it on in my bedroom,
to consider the cruelty
and the transformation
from camel to shade,
marvel at the colours
like stained glass.
My mother cherished her jewellery -
Indian gold, dangling, filligree.
But it was stolen from our car.
The presents were radiant in my wardrobe.
My aunts requested cardigans
from Marks and Spencers.
My salwar kameez
didn't impress the schoolfriend
who sat on my bed, asked to see
my weekend clothes.
But often I admired the mirror-work,
tried to glimpse myself
in the miniature
glass circles, recall the story
how the three of us
sailed to England.
Prickly heat had me screaming on the way.
I ended up in a cot
in my English grandmother's dining-room,
found myself alone,
playing with a tin boat.
I pictured my birthplace
from fifties' photographs.
When I was older
there was conflict, a fractured land
throbbing through newsprint.
Sometimes I saw Lahore -
my aunts in shaded rooms,
screened from male visitors,
sorting presents,
wrapping them in tissue.
Or there were beggars, sweeper-girls
and I was there-
of no fixed nationality,
staring through fretwork
at the Shalimar Gardens.
Moniza AZvi
Not my Business - A favourite of mine
They picked Akanni up one morning
Beat him soft like clay
And stuffed him down the belly
Of a waiting jeep.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
They came one night
Booted the whole house awake
And dragged Danladi out,
Then off to a lengthy absence.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
Chinwe went to work one day
Only to find her job was gone:
No query, no warning, no probe -
Just one neat sack for a stainless record.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
And then one evening
As I sat down to eat my yam
A knock on the door froze my hungry hand.
The jeep was waiting on my bewildered lawn
Waiting, waiting in its usual silence.
Niyi Osundare
Beat him soft like clay
And stuffed him down the belly
Of a waiting jeep.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
They came one night
Booted the whole house awake
And dragged Danladi out,
Then off to a lengthy absence.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
Chinwe went to work one day
Only to find her job was gone:
No query, no warning, no probe -
Just one neat sack for a stainless record.
What business of mine is it
So long they don't take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
And then one evening
As I sat down to eat my yam
A knock on the door froze my hungry hand.
The jeep was waiting on my bewildered lawn
Waiting, waiting in its usual silence.
Niyi Osundare
This Room
This room is breaking out
of itself, cracking through
its own walls
in search of space, light,
empty air.
The bed is lifting out of
its nightmares.
From dark comers, chairs
are rising up to crash through clouds.
This is the time and place
to be alive:
when the daily furniture of our lives
stirs, when the improbable arrives.
Pots and pans bang together
in celebration, clang
past the crowd of garlic, onions, spices,
fly by the ceiling fan.
No one is looking for the door.
In all this excitement
I'm wondering where
I've left my feet, and why
my hands are outside, clapping.
Imtiaz Dharker
of itself, cracking through
its own walls
in search of space, light,
empty air.
The bed is lifting out of
its nightmares.
From dark comers, chairs
are rising up to crash through clouds.
This is the time and place
to be alive:
when the daily furniture of our lives
stirs, when the improbable arrives.
Pots and pans bang together
in celebration, clang
past the crowd of garlic, onions, spices,
fly by the ceiling fan.
No one is looking for the door.
In all this excitement
I'm wondering where
I've left my feet, and why
my hands are outside, clapping.
Imtiaz Dharker
Love After Love
The time will come
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror,
And each will smile at the other's welcome,
And say sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine; Give bread. Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you
All your life, whom you ignored
For another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love-letters from the bookshelf
The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your own images from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror,
And each will smile at the other's welcome,
And say sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine; Give bread. Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you
All your life, whom you ignored
For another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love-letters from the bookshelf
The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your own images from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
Half-Caste
Excuse me
standing on one leg
I'm half-caste
Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather/
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem dont want de sun pass
ah rass/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony/
Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah lookin at yu wid de keen
half of mih eye
and when I'm introduced to yu
I'm sure you'll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu must come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
an de whole of yu mind
an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story
John Agard
standing on one leg
I'm half-caste
Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather/
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem dont want de sun pass
ah rass/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony/
Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah lookin at yu wid de keen
half of mih eye
and when I'm introduced to yu
I'm sure you'll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu must come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
an de whole of yu mind
an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story
John Agard
from Unrelated Incidents
this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna roo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wonna yoo
scruff tokn.
thirza right
way ti spell
ana right way
ti tok it. this
is me tokn yir
right way a
spellin. this
is ma trooth
yooz doant no
thi trooth
yitsellz cawz
yi canny talk
right. this is
the six a clock
nyooz. belt up.
.
Tom Leonard
this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna roo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wonna yoo
scruff tokn.
thirza right
way ti spell
ana right way
ti tok it. this
is me tokn yir
right way a
spellin. this
is ma trooth
yooz doant no
thi trooth
yitsellz cawz
yi canny talk
right. this is
the six a clock
nyooz. belt up.
.
Tom Leonard
from Search For My Tongue
You ask me what I mean
by saying I have lost my tongue.
I ask you, what would you do
if you had two tongues in your mouth,
and lost the first one, the mother tongue,
and could not really know the other,
the foreign tongue.
You could not use them both together
even if you thought that way.
And if you lived in a place you had to
speak a foreign tongue,
your mother tongue would rot,
rot and die in your mouth
until you had to spit it out.
I thought I spit it out
but overnight while I dream,
it grows back, a stump of a shoot
grows longer, grows moist, grows strong veins,
it ties the other tongue in knots,
the bud opens, the bud opens in my mouth,
it pushes the other tongue aside.
Everytime I think I've forgotten,
I think I've lost the mother tongue,
it blossoms, out of my mouth.
Sujata Bhatt
by saying I have lost my tongue.
I ask you, what would you do
if you had two tongues in your mouth,
and lost the first one, the mother tongue,
and could not really know the other,
the foreign tongue.
You could not use them both together
even if you thought that way.
And if you lived in a place you had to
speak a foreign tongue,
your mother tongue would rot,
rot and die in your mouth
until you had to spit it out.
I thought I spit it out
but overnight while I dream,
it grows back, a stump of a shoot
grows longer, grows moist, grows strong veins,
it ties the other tongue in knots,
the bud opens, the bud opens in my mouth,
it pushes the other tongue aside.
Everytime I think I've forgotten,
I think I've lost the mother tongue,
it blossoms, out of my mouth.
Sujata Bhatt
Belsay Monks
Peace and serenity to start every day.
On top of a hill of Northumberland in a place called Belsay.
The Monastery lies secluded undisturbed; almost.
They go about their business without a sound, busying themselves in the vast gardens,
Getting ready for prayers, everything is so clean; nothing out of place; welcoming.
It was indeed a sad day the first visit I had in this beautiful place of warmth, peace and serenity.
The monks had been brilliant and kind; oh ever so kind and sincere when a family member had been taken into hospital to live his final hours of life.
You see the monks had taken 'Alan' under their wings after the accident on what should have been a celebration of his parents Anniversary. A day they indeed were never to forget. 'Alan' had been driving along the road when a truck veered off the road and collided straight into his car; a head on collision, crushing the front of the car as if it had been in a crushing machine.
How he survived nobody knows. Every bone in his face was broken except foe one eye socket; he was unrecognisable; even to his family. He had numerous operations to give him back a face; even if not recognised as he was before. Life for him and his family was going to be very different from what it had been before. The monks visited the family every day he lay in that hospital bed, supporting also his family with all their kind words and prayers; almost ghostly. They had a calming effect, an aura about them, casting a spell of peacefulness of the horror that lay in that bed.
After a few weeks 'Alan' did leave hospital, but family life was never going to be the same again. He stayed with the monks who helped him through this terrible time. He found peace there. It was a place he could be where no-one cared what any-one looked like; he was undisturbed tending to the gardens and losing himself in his prayers where he found he was most at peace. However disaster struck again (after 2 years) when he was diagnosed with cancer of the throat. He and his family were devastated. He was again taken into hospital and this time his voice box was taken out and replaced with something I do not know the name of but I can only describe as A robot; like Christopher Reeve. He lived for a few short months after that before he was taken away; this time forever.
Again the monks came to the hospital and never left his side. He was part of that world now; there was a special service at the monastery for Alan and close relatives after the service at the Church he had regularly attended. His ashes were taken to the Monastery of the Monks were Alan was now allowed to finally rest in peace. He is buried in the garden in which he loved to tend in a special stone laid in memory of Alan who did indeed have tremendous courage and a huge heart.
He will never be forgotten and will always live on in our heart.
We often say why? If there is a God up there, why does he take the good people from this Earth; we need these people to make the world a better place for everyone as opposed to what it is changing into. Crime and Death and Hatred. He has a family and two beautiful children.
I have visited a couple of time since and life there is as it always was; as it should be. He will be happy there; this I am sure of.
I have a lot of respect of the work these monks do and wish more people could be more like them! The world would indeed be a better place.
RIP
On top of a hill of Northumberland in a place called Belsay.
The Monastery lies secluded undisturbed; almost.
They go about their business without a sound, busying themselves in the vast gardens,
Getting ready for prayers, everything is so clean; nothing out of place; welcoming.
It was indeed a sad day the first visit I had in this beautiful place of warmth, peace and serenity.
The monks had been brilliant and kind; oh ever so kind and sincere when a family member had been taken into hospital to live his final hours of life.
You see the monks had taken 'Alan' under their wings after the accident on what should have been a celebration of his parents Anniversary. A day they indeed were never to forget. 'Alan' had been driving along the road when a truck veered off the road and collided straight into his car; a head on collision, crushing the front of the car as if it had been in a crushing machine.
How he survived nobody knows. Every bone in his face was broken except foe one eye socket; he was unrecognisable; even to his family. He had numerous operations to give him back a face; even if not recognised as he was before. Life for him and his family was going to be very different from what it had been before. The monks visited the family every day he lay in that hospital bed, supporting also his family with all their kind words and prayers; almost ghostly. They had a calming effect, an aura about them, casting a spell of peacefulness of the horror that lay in that bed.
After a few weeks 'Alan' did leave hospital, but family life was never going to be the same again. He stayed with the monks who helped him through this terrible time. He found peace there. It was a place he could be where no-one cared what any-one looked like; he was undisturbed tending to the gardens and losing himself in his prayers where he found he was most at peace. However disaster struck again (after 2 years) when he was diagnosed with cancer of the throat. He and his family were devastated. He was again taken into hospital and this time his voice box was taken out and replaced with something I do not know the name of but I can only describe as A robot; like Christopher Reeve. He lived for a few short months after that before he was taken away; this time forever.
Again the monks came to the hospital and never left his side. He was part of that world now; there was a special service at the monastery for Alan and close relatives after the service at the Church he had regularly attended. His ashes were taken to the Monastery of the Monks were Alan was now allowed to finally rest in peace. He is buried in the garden in which he loved to tend in a special stone laid in memory of Alan who did indeed have tremendous courage and a huge heart.
He will never be forgotten and will always live on in our heart.
We often say why? If there is a God up there, why does he take the good people from this Earth; we need these people to make the world a better place for everyone as opposed to what it is changing into. Crime and Death and Hatred. He has a family and two beautiful children.
I have visited a couple of time since and life there is as it always was; as it should be. He will be happy there; this I am sure of.
I have a lot of respect of the work these monks do and wish more people could be more like them! The world would indeed be a better place.
RIP
Monday, 15 March 2010
Gothic Love Poem
"Within the darkness of night,
Bring forth the black rose,
For thy morbid mistress awaits,
Hear the mortals screams as she wakes,
Her beauty shines from the darkness
within her eyes,
Skin white as snow and eyes dark as sulphur,
Oh what I would give for her,
Just to hear her call my name,"
What I would give,
For her to be mine,
I'd dig my grave,
For I want her beauty to be mine,
Oh what hath spawned
that evil vixen from hells gate,
But only from lucifers mouth,
Can her freedom be set,
She walks the path of darkness,
That will always be met,
She mourns the day,
And with the darkness comes
her appetite to feed on human flesh,
Morbidity within her soul,
and hatred for those who do not know,
Of the life that they could have,
Though darkness has claimed her soul,
She walks as though she doesn't know,
The end for her is near,
And it is truly clear,
"Remember the days,
with the sun and it's rays,
when it shined upon us,
no judgement was passed,
and we walked free in the world,"
Is it true what they say,
There is no beauty without cruelty,
Though to take her life from her,
Would be far worse
than she could ever do,
"now we feel the pain of it all,
for our memories kill her,
and I cannot lose her,
for she is so cruel."
Her sins cannot be unmasked,
For she is the devil within our thoughts,
And pain she seeks cannot be reaped,
From the minds of mortal men,
"as the night closes in
and shadows lengthen across the land,
the mistress rises to take my hand,
her hands as cold as death
and eyes as dark as dusk,
yet I can see the cruelty
in her face but adore her musk,"
with all her beauty and flesh adored,
she took my hand and
delivered the visions
of the life she has led,
pain swept through my body
as I fell to the floor,
screaming in agony,
I saw her life through her eyes,
Felt the feelings that she despised,
And the screams of her victims,
For they hadn't moved from her mind,
And from the pain she'd given to me,
I received an eternity as she was,
Damned and departed from the lord,
Not that I wanted to be of the light,
Morbid Mistress,
Thy Morbid Mistress,
Morbid Mistress,
Thy Morbid Mistress,
My blood runs cold eternally for thee,
Daniel Treuel
Bring forth the black rose,
For thy morbid mistress awaits,
Hear the mortals screams as she wakes,
Her beauty shines from the darkness
within her eyes,
Skin white as snow and eyes dark as sulphur,
Oh what I would give for her,
Just to hear her call my name,"
What I would give,
For her to be mine,
I'd dig my grave,
For I want her beauty to be mine,
Oh what hath spawned
that evil vixen from hells gate,
But only from lucifers mouth,
Can her freedom be set,
She walks the path of darkness,
That will always be met,
She mourns the day,
And with the darkness comes
her appetite to feed on human flesh,
Morbidity within her soul,
and hatred for those who do not know,
Of the life that they could have,
Though darkness has claimed her soul,
She walks as though she doesn't know,
The end for her is near,
And it is truly clear,
"Remember the days,
with the sun and it's rays,
when it shined upon us,
no judgement was passed,
and we walked free in the world,"
Is it true what they say,
There is no beauty without cruelty,
Though to take her life from her,
Would be far worse
than she could ever do,
"now we feel the pain of it all,
for our memories kill her,
and I cannot lose her,
for she is so cruel."
Her sins cannot be unmasked,
For she is the devil within our thoughts,
And pain she seeks cannot be reaped,
From the minds of mortal men,
"as the night closes in
and shadows lengthen across the land,
the mistress rises to take my hand,
her hands as cold as death
and eyes as dark as dusk,
yet I can see the cruelty
in her face but adore her musk,"
with all her beauty and flesh adored,
she took my hand and
delivered the visions
of the life she has led,
pain swept through my body
as I fell to the floor,
screaming in agony,
I saw her life through her eyes,
Felt the feelings that she despised,
And the screams of her victims,
For they hadn't moved from her mind,
And from the pain she'd given to me,
I received an eternity as she was,
Damned and departed from the lord,
Not that I wanted to be of the light,
Morbid Mistress,
Thy Morbid Mistress,
Morbid Mistress,
Thy Morbid Mistress,
My blood runs cold eternally for thee,
Daniel Treuel
Gothic Love Poem
in this world
am i here
taken by your stride
showing me to hide
away from what i fear
distorted images
are disturbing me
letting me see
what i will be
as if a reverie
taken away to see
what had happened again to me
lifeless for the dangers taken
she was distorted in fragrent death
for the longer she kept
the longer they wept
at her body sinking into the sea
is this the fate for me
never had i seen a thing of such grace
falling away from the darkness of this world
and hated in me
i should see
still i left her be
thrashing waves taking her
my loss controling my mind
i stood and watched
as i stabbed him from behind
he'd taken her away from me
so i took a knife and showed him
the blackening world as he left this earth
and fell into hell unlike my kim
water blue as the sky
and filled with dangers
after the blood stained the sands
the water just restrained her
taking her final breathe
the light coming through the surface
no hand to pull her up
i stared at the water and saw the race
was it me holding her down
or just me not allowing her to come back
forsaken to the depths of darkness to drown
she can never take back the crown
but now do i feel better as she's died
or just hate myself more
for i could have lived with the lie
that she never actually loved me
and used me for what i could do
i gave her what i had
my heart and my secrets
blood soaks the sand
water floods the lungs
i shall never speak of this tragedy
of my love for her undone
forsaken to my just like my tongue
for i let her know how i felt
so she went away with him
and all the blood spilt
cruelty spoken to me
hating the way she took away my heart
drowning in the sea
is myself along side her
whilst we are still torn apart
-Daniel Treuel
am i here
taken by your stride
showing me to hide
away from what i fear
distorted images
are disturbing me
letting me see
what i will be
as if a reverie
taken away to see
what had happened again to me
lifeless for the dangers taken
she was distorted in fragrent death
for the longer she kept
the longer they wept
at her body sinking into the sea
is this the fate for me
never had i seen a thing of such grace
falling away from the darkness of this world
and hated in me
i should see
still i left her be
thrashing waves taking her
my loss controling my mind
i stood and watched
as i stabbed him from behind
he'd taken her away from me
so i took a knife and showed him
the blackening world as he left this earth
and fell into hell unlike my kim
water blue as the sky
and filled with dangers
after the blood stained the sands
the water just restrained her
taking her final breathe
the light coming through the surface
no hand to pull her up
i stared at the water and saw the race
was it me holding her down
or just me not allowing her to come back
forsaken to the depths of darkness to drown
she can never take back the crown
but now do i feel better as she's died
or just hate myself more
for i could have lived with the lie
that she never actually loved me
and used me for what i could do
i gave her what i had
my heart and my secrets
blood soaks the sand
water floods the lungs
i shall never speak of this tragedy
of my love for her undone
forsaken to my just like my tongue
for i let her know how i felt
so she went away with him
and all the blood spilt
cruelty spoken to me
hating the way she took away my heart
drowning in the sea
is myself along side her
whilst we are still torn apart
-Daniel Treuel
A Sad gothic Poem
We returned to the faithful forest
To find it volcano-blasted.
Belly up and sallow as a dead
Grandfather on a slab. In such ash land
A Goldfish in a glass doesn't
Serve for a heart.
O our old mountain home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
The Gremlin comes from the North. Equipped
With his juggler bits and hidden daggers,
Painted Eyes and mailcious grinning,
Pillager of the pillaged,
Jigging and twirling, giggling burner
In the abandoned village.
o our old mountian home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
In the deepest down, the first valley,
The cleft where we first took stage,
We make our last proud bow
Before an ampitheatre full of no one.
Tired of applause, they left for space
When our dramas lost their
Laws of gravity.
O our old mountian home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
-By albatross
To find it volcano-blasted.
Belly up and sallow as a dead
Grandfather on a slab. In such ash land
A Goldfish in a glass doesn't
Serve for a heart.
O our old mountain home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
The Gremlin comes from the North. Equipped
With his juggler bits and hidden daggers,
Painted Eyes and mailcious grinning,
Pillager of the pillaged,
Jigging and twirling, giggling burner
In the abandoned village.
o our old mountian home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
In the deepest down, the first valley,
The cleft where we first took stage,
We make our last proud bow
Before an ampitheatre full of no one.
Tired of applause, they left for space
When our dramas lost their
Laws of gravity.
O our old mountian home
Unto thee we will come
Driven down on the bones
Drowning sound of the drums
-By albatross
poems and readings
Here are some of the most well loved readings and poems:
Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we have always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me, Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect without the trace of a shadow on it, Life means all that it ever meant. It was the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renown?d be thy grave!
Cymbeline Act 1V, Scene 2
William Shakespeare
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much;
Who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children;
Who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
Who has left the world better than he found it;
Who has looked for the best in others and given the best he had;
Whose life was an inspiration
Whose memory is a benediction
Robert Louis Stevenson
It was beautiful,
As long as it lasted
The journey of my life.
I have no regrets
Whatsoever save
The pain I'll leave behind
Those dear hearts
Who love and care
And the strings pulling
At the heart and soul. Continues
by Rabindranath Tagore, Bengali poet and Nobel Laureate for Literature 1913
What is dying?
I am standing on the sea shore. A ship sails and spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, "She is gone",
Gone where?
Gone from my sight, that is all;
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her,
and just at he moment when someone at my side says, "She is gone", there are others who are watching her coming,
and other voices take a glad shout "There she comes",
And that is dying.
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land:
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti 1830-1894
I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.'
And he replied, 'Go into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way!'
So I went forth and finding the Hand of God
Trod gladly into the night
He led me towards the hills
And the breaking of day in the lone east.
So heart be still!
What need our human life to know
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife of things
Both high and low,
God hideth his intention
M. Louise Haskins (1875-1957)
'Funeral Blues'
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 for ever: 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
If I should die and leave you here awhile,
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust, and weep.
For my sake turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hands to do
Something to comfort weaker hearts than thine.
Complete those dear unfinished tasks of mine
And I perchance may therein comfort you.
Attrib. A Price Hughes
I fall asleep in the full and certain hope
That my slumber shall not be broken;
And that though I be all-forgetting,
Yet shall I not be forgotten,
But continue that life in the thoughts and deeds
Of those I loved.
Samuel Butler
1835-1902
Farewell
Farewell to Thee! But not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of Thee;
Within my heart they still shall dwell
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
Life seems more sweet that Thou didst live
And men more true Thou wert one;
Nothing is lost that Thou didst give,
Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done.
Anne Bronte
1820-1849
Indian Prayer
When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it's pleasant to recall
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living.
Traditional
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a 1,000 winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
Anon, 20th century
Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
Not what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away?
Anon
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little, but not for long,
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love we once shared,
Miss me, but let me go!
For this a journey we all must take,
And each must go alone;
It's all a part of the master's plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
Miss me, but let me go.
Robyn Rancman
Footprints
One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene , he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life, that there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him, and he questioned the Lord about it. " Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times of my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why, when I needed you most you would leave me".
The Lord replied " My Son, My precious child. I Love You, and would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you".
Anon
When Tomorrow Starts Without Me
When tomorrow starts without me, and I am not here to see,
If the sun should rise and find your eyes all filled with tears for me,
I know how much you love me as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me I know you'll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me please try to understand,
That Jesus came and called my name and took me by the hand.
He said my place is ready in heaven far above,
And that I have to leave behind all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought it wasn't my time to die.
I had so much to live for and so much yet to do,
It seems almost impossible that I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays the good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared and all the fun we had.
If I could have stayed for just a little while,
I'd say goodbye and kiss you and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realise that this could never be,
For emptiness and memories would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through Heaven's gate and felt so much at home,
As God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne.
He said "This is eternity, And all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past, but here it starts anew."
"I promise no tomorrow but today will always last,
And since each day's the same here there's no longing for the past."
So when tomorrow starts without me don't think we're far apart,
For every time you think of me I'm right here in your heart.
Anon
Time Will Ease The Hurt
The sadness of the present days
is locked and set in time,
and moving to the future
is a slow and painful climb.
But all the feelings that are now
so vivid and so real
can't hold their fresh intensity
as time begins to heal.
No wound so deep will ever go
entirely away
yet every hurt becomes
a little less from day to day.
Nothing can erase the painful
imprints on your mind
but there are softer memories
that time will let you find.
Though your heart won't let the sadness
simply slide away
the echoes will diminish
even though the memories stay
Anon
His Journey's Just Begun
Don't think of him as gone away
his journey's just begun,
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.
Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.
Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched...
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.
E. Brenneman
'Say not in grief 'he is no more' but live in thankfulness that he was'
Hebrew proverb
'What the caterpillar perceives is the end, to the butterfly is just the beginning'
Anon
?The song is ended but the memory lingers on?.
Lyrics by Irving Berlin
Life Goes On
If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower
Nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I am gone
Speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So .... sing as well
Joyce Grenfell
1910-1979
When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it's pleasant to recall
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living.
Anon
Death Be Not Proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost over throw
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure - then, from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die.
John Donne 1572-1631
If I should go tomorrow
It would never be goodbye,
For I have left my heart with you,
So don't you ever cry.
The love that's deep within me,
Shall reach you from the stars,
You'll feel it from the heavens,
And it will heal the scars.
Anon
But Not Forgotten
I think no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head
Nor the tremulous things I said.
You will still see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image there without me,
By telling later loves about me.
Dorothy Parker
Stairway to Heaven
They say memories are golden,
Well, maybe that is true;
I never wanted memories,
I only wanted you.
A million times I needed you,
A million times I cried;
If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.
In life I loved you dearly,
In death I love you still;
In my heart you hold a piece
No one could ever fill.
But now I know you want me
To mourn for you no more,
To remember the happy times
Life still has much in store.
Since you'll never be forgotten
I pledge to you today;
A hallowed place within my heart
Is where you'll always stay.
If tears could build a stairway
And heartache make a lane;
I'd walk the path to heaven
And bring you back again.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
But as God calls us one by one,
The chain will link again.
Lyrics by Robert Plant & Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin)
Some popular readings from the bible:
Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away; for I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day." John 6:35-40
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."
John 11:17-27
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going." Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
John 14:1-6
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
" For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered."
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:31-39
Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you--unless you have come to believe in vain. For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them--though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe. Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ--whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
But someone will ask, "How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?" Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body.
So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body.
For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
" Death has been swallowed up in victory."
"Where, O death, is your victory?"
"Where, O death, is your sting?"
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.
From 1 Corinthians 15
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
" See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away."
And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true." Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who conquer will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children.
Revelation 21:1-7
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.
Let him sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on him.
Let him bury his face in the dust?
there may yet be hope.
Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
and let him be filled with disgrace.
For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.
To crush underfoot
all prisoners in the land,
to deny a man his rights
before the Most High,
to deprive a man of justice
would not the Lord see such things?
Lamentations 3 vv 19-36
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children, to such as keep his covenant, and to those that remember his commmandments to do them. The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all.
Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we have always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me, Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect without the trace of a shadow on it, Life means all that it ever meant. It was the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renown?d be thy grave!
Cymbeline Act 1V, Scene 2
William Shakespeare
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much;
Who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children;
Who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
Who has left the world better than he found it;
Who has looked for the best in others and given the best he had;
Whose life was an inspiration
Whose memory is a benediction
Robert Louis Stevenson
It was beautiful,
As long as it lasted
The journey of my life.
I have no regrets
Whatsoever save
The pain I'll leave behind
Those dear hearts
Who love and care
And the strings pulling
At the heart and soul. Continues
by Rabindranath Tagore, Bengali poet and Nobel Laureate for Literature 1913
What is dying?
I am standing on the sea shore. A ship sails and spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, "She is gone",
Gone where?
Gone from my sight, that is all;
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her,
and just at he moment when someone at my side says, "She is gone", there are others who are watching her coming,
and other voices take a glad shout "There she comes",
And that is dying.
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land:
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti 1830-1894
I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.'
And he replied, 'Go into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way!'
So I went forth and finding the Hand of God
Trod gladly into the night
He led me towards the hills
And the breaking of day in the lone east.
So heart be still!
What need our human life to know
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife of things
Both high and low,
God hideth his intention
M. Louise Haskins (1875-1957)
'Funeral Blues'
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 for ever: 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
If I should die and leave you here awhile,
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust, and weep.
For my sake turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hands to do
Something to comfort weaker hearts than thine.
Complete those dear unfinished tasks of mine
And I perchance may therein comfort you.
Attrib. A Price Hughes
I fall asleep in the full and certain hope
That my slumber shall not be broken;
And that though I be all-forgetting,
Yet shall I not be forgotten,
But continue that life in the thoughts and deeds
Of those I loved.
Samuel Butler
1835-1902
Farewell
Farewell to Thee! But not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of Thee;
Within my heart they still shall dwell
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
Life seems more sweet that Thou didst live
And men more true Thou wert one;
Nothing is lost that Thou didst give,
Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done.
Anne Bronte
1820-1849
Indian Prayer
When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it's pleasant to recall
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living.
Traditional
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a 1,000 winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
Anon, 20th century
Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
Not what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away?
Anon
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little, but not for long,
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love we once shared,
Miss me, but let me go!
For this a journey we all must take,
And each must go alone;
It's all a part of the master's plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
Miss me, but let me go.
Robyn Rancman
Footprints
One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene , he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life, that there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him, and he questioned the Lord about it. " Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times of my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why, when I needed you most you would leave me".
The Lord replied " My Son, My precious child. I Love You, and would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you".
Anon
When Tomorrow Starts Without Me
When tomorrow starts without me, and I am not here to see,
If the sun should rise and find your eyes all filled with tears for me,
I know how much you love me as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me I know you'll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me please try to understand,
That Jesus came and called my name and took me by the hand.
He said my place is ready in heaven far above,
And that I have to leave behind all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought it wasn't my time to die.
I had so much to live for and so much yet to do,
It seems almost impossible that I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays the good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared and all the fun we had.
If I could have stayed for just a little while,
I'd say goodbye and kiss you and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realise that this could never be,
For emptiness and memories would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through Heaven's gate and felt so much at home,
As God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne.
He said "This is eternity, And all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past, but here it starts anew."
"I promise no tomorrow but today will always last,
And since each day's the same here there's no longing for the past."
So when tomorrow starts without me don't think we're far apart,
For every time you think of me I'm right here in your heart.
Anon
Time Will Ease The Hurt
The sadness of the present days
is locked and set in time,
and moving to the future
is a slow and painful climb.
But all the feelings that are now
so vivid and so real
can't hold their fresh intensity
as time begins to heal.
No wound so deep will ever go
entirely away
yet every hurt becomes
a little less from day to day.
Nothing can erase the painful
imprints on your mind
but there are softer memories
that time will let you find.
Though your heart won't let the sadness
simply slide away
the echoes will diminish
even though the memories stay
Anon
His Journey's Just Begun
Don't think of him as gone away
his journey's just begun,
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.
Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.
Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched...
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.
E. Brenneman
'Say not in grief 'he is no more' but live in thankfulness that he was'
Hebrew proverb
'What the caterpillar perceives is the end, to the butterfly is just the beginning'
Anon
?The song is ended but the memory lingers on?.
Lyrics by Irving Berlin
Life Goes On
If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower
Nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I am gone
Speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So .... sing as well
Joyce Grenfell
1910-1979
When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it's pleasant to recall
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living.
Anon
Death Be Not Proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost over throw
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure - then, from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die.
John Donne 1572-1631
If I should go tomorrow
It would never be goodbye,
For I have left my heart with you,
So don't you ever cry.
The love that's deep within me,
Shall reach you from the stars,
You'll feel it from the heavens,
And it will heal the scars.
Anon
But Not Forgotten
I think no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head
Nor the tremulous things I said.
You will still see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image there without me,
By telling later loves about me.
Dorothy Parker
Stairway to Heaven
They say memories are golden,
Well, maybe that is true;
I never wanted memories,
I only wanted you.
A million times I needed you,
A million times I cried;
If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.
In life I loved you dearly,
In death I love you still;
In my heart you hold a piece
No one could ever fill.
But now I know you want me
To mourn for you no more,
To remember the happy times
Life still has much in store.
Since you'll never be forgotten
I pledge to you today;
A hallowed place within my heart
Is where you'll always stay.
If tears could build a stairway
And heartache make a lane;
I'd walk the path to heaven
And bring you back again.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
But as God calls us one by one,
The chain will link again.
Lyrics by Robert Plant & Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin)
Some popular readings from the bible:
Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away; for I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day." John 6:35-40
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."
John 11:17-27
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going." Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
John 14:1-6
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
" For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered."
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:31-39
Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you--unless you have come to believe in vain. For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them--though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe. Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ--whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
But someone will ask, "How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?" Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body.
So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body.
For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
" Death has been swallowed up in victory."
"Where, O death, is your victory?"
"Where, O death, is your sting?"
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.
From 1 Corinthians 15
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
" See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away."
And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true." Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who conquer will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children.
Revelation 21:1-7
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.
Let him sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on him.
Let him bury his face in the dust?
there may yet be hope.
Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
and let him be filled with disgrace.
For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.
To crush underfoot
all prisoners in the land,
to deny a man his rights
before the Most High,
to deprive a man of justice
would not the Lord see such things?
Lamentations 3 vv 19-36
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children, to such as keep his covenant, and to those that remember his commmandments to do them. The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all.
JABBERWOCKY
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
dshaw@jabberwocky.com
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
dshaw@jabberwocky.com
My dog plays invisible Frisbee
My dog plays invisible Frisbee.
He catches invisible balls.
He rides an invisible skateboard.
He hurdles invisible walls.
My dog has perfected the practice
of doing invisible tricks.
He jumps with invisible jumpropes
and fetches invisible sticks.
He barks at invisible mailmen.
He growls at invisible cats.
He'll bring me invisible slippers
and even invisible hats.
He chases invisible squirrels
whenever we go for a jog.
He's clearly the greatest dog ever.
I love my invisible dog.
--Kenn Nesbitt
He catches invisible balls.
He rides an invisible skateboard.
He hurdles invisible walls.
My dog has perfected the practice
of doing invisible tricks.
He jumps with invisible jumpropes
and fetches invisible sticks.
He barks at invisible mailmen.
He growls at invisible cats.
He'll bring me invisible slippers
and even invisible hats.
He chases invisible squirrels
whenever we go for a jog.
He's clearly the greatest dog ever.
I love my invisible dog.
--Kenn Nesbitt
Halloween Party
We're having a Halloween party at school.
I'm dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!
I dyed my hair black and I cut off my bangs.
I'm wearing a cape and some fake plastic fangs.
I put on some makeup to paint my face white
like creatures that only come out in the night.
My fingernails, too, are all pointed and red.
There's no doubt I look like the evil undead.
My mom drops me off and I run into school
and suddenly feel like the world's biggest fool.
The other kids stare like I'm some kind of freak.
The Halloween party is not till next week.
--Kenn Nesbitt
I'm dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!
I dyed my hair black and I cut off my bangs.
I'm wearing a cape and some fake plastic fangs.
I put on some makeup to paint my face white
like creatures that only come out in the night.
My fingernails, too, are all pointed and red.
There's no doubt I look like the evil undead.
My mom drops me off and I run into school
and suddenly feel like the world's biggest fool.
The other kids stare like I'm some kind of freak.
The Halloween party is not till next week.
--Kenn Nesbitt
I bought our cat a jetpack
I bought our cat a jetpack
which I think she liked a lot.
She strapped it on and instantly
she took off like a shot.
She zoomed around my bedroom
then she blasted down the hall.
She ricocheted off every piece
of furniture and wall.
Our dog freaked out and ran away.
Our hamster squeaked and fled.
I even saw my sister hiding
underneath her bed.
Our cat is so fired up
I almost hate to break the news:
She'll never catch our mouse;
I bought him rocket powered shoes.
--Kenn Nesbitt
which I think she liked a lot.
She strapped it on and instantly
she took off like a shot.
She zoomed around my bedroom
then she blasted down the hall.
She ricocheted off every piece
of furniture and wall.
Our dog freaked out and ran away.
Our hamster squeaked and fled.
I even saw my sister hiding
underneath her bed.
Our cat is so fired up
I almost hate to break the news:
She'll never catch our mouse;
I bought him rocket powered shoes.
--Kenn Nesbitt
My hamster has a skateboard
My hamster has a skateboard.
When he rides it, though, he falls.
He takes off like a maniac
and crashes into walls.
He screams, "Geronimo!"
and then goes crashing down the stairs.
He's good at knocking tables down
and slamming into chairs.
He'll slalom through the living room
and then you'll hear a, "Splat!"
which means that he's collided with
my mother or the cat.
He plows right into cabinets,
and smashes into doors,
I think he's wrecked on every bed
and every chest of drawers.
It's fun to watch him ride
because you're sure to hear a smash.
He doesn't skate so well but, boy,
he sure knows how to crash.
--Kenn Nesbitt
When he rides it, though, he falls.
He takes off like a maniac
and crashes into walls.
He screams, "Geronimo!"
and then goes crashing down the stairs.
He's good at knocking tables down
and slamming into chairs.
He'll slalom through the living room
and then you'll hear a, "Splat!"
which means that he's collided with
my mother or the cat.
He plows right into cabinets,
and smashes into doors,
I think he's wrecked on every bed
and every chest of drawers.
It's fun to watch him ride
because you're sure to hear a smash.
He doesn't skate so well but, boy,
he sure knows how to crash.
--Kenn Nesbitt
When Frankenstein was just a kid
When Frankenstein was just a kid,
he ate his greens. It's true. He did!
He ate his spinach, salads, peas,
asparagus, and foods like these,
and with each leaf and lima bean
his skin became a bit more green.
On chives and chard he loved to chew,
and Brussels sprouts and peppers too,
until he ate that fateful bean
that turned his skin completely green.
He turned all green, and stayed that way,
and now he frightens folks away.
Poor Frankenstein, his tale is sad,
but things need not have been so bad.
It's fair to say, if only he
had eaten much less celery,
avoided cabbage, ate no kale,
why, then, we'd have a different tale.
So, mom and dad, I'm here to say
please take these vegetables away
or my fate could be just as grim.
Yes, I could end up green like him.
So, mom and dad, before we dine,
please give a thought to Frankenstein.
--Kenn Nesbitt
he ate his greens. It's true. He did!
He ate his spinach, salads, peas,
asparagus, and foods like these,
and with each leaf and lima bean
his skin became a bit more green.
On chives and chard he loved to chew,
and Brussels sprouts and peppers too,
until he ate that fateful bean
that turned his skin completely green.
He turned all green, and stayed that way,
and now he frightens folks away.
Poor Frankenstein, his tale is sad,
but things need not have been so bad.
It's fair to say, if only he
had eaten much less celery,
avoided cabbage, ate no kale,
why, then, we'd have a different tale.
So, mom and dad, I'm here to say
please take these vegetables away
or my fate could be just as grim.
Yes, I could end up green like him.
So, mom and dad, before we dine,
please give a thought to Frankenstein.
--Kenn Nesbitt
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
in his quirky chirping way.
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
up until Thanksgiving Day.
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
till we turned the oven on.
Gobble, gobble went the turkey.
Now the turkey's (gobble) gone.
--Kenn Nesbitt
in his quirky chirping way.
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
up until Thanksgiving Day.
"Gobble, gobble," went the turkey
till we turned the oven on.
Gobble, gobble went the turkey.
Now the turkey's (gobble) gone.
--Kenn Nesbitt
Mall Crawl
We went to the mall the day after Thanksgiving,
to purchase the Christmas gifts we would be giving.
My mother, my father, my sister and I,
we all had our lists of the presents we'd buy.
We got up at dawn and went straight to the Mall,
but came home without any presents at all.
For though we were there from the morning till dark,
we spent the day looking for someplace to park.
--Kenn Nesbitt
to purchase the Christmas gifts we would be giving.
My mother, my father, my sister and I,
we all had our lists of the presents we'd buy.
We got up at dawn and went straight to the Mall,
but came home without any presents at all.
For though we were there from the morning till dark,
we spent the day looking for someplace to park.
--Kenn Nesbitt
A dinosaur for Christmas
A dinosaur for Christmas
is the only thing I need.
It doesn't matter if it's slow
or one that's built for speed.
A massive one, a tiny one
or one that's in between.
A dinosaur that's muddy brown
or bright and shiny green.
I don't care if it's big and tall
or really old and ugly.
I don't care if it's rough and tough
or soft and cute and snuggly.
A spiny one will do the trick.
A scaly one is fine.
As long as it's a living, breathing dinosaur,
and mine.
I promise if you bring me one
I'll never ask for more,
That's all I want for Christmas:
just one single dinosaur.
--Kenn Nesbitt
is the only thing I need.
It doesn't matter if it's slow
or one that's built for speed.
A massive one, a tiny one
or one that's in between.
A dinosaur that's muddy brown
or bright and shiny green.
I don't care if it's big and tall
or really old and ugly.
I don't care if it's rough and tough
or soft and cute and snuggly.
A spiny one will do the trick.
A scaly one is fine.
As long as it's a living, breathing dinosaur,
and mine.
I promise if you bring me one
I'll never ask for more,
That's all I want for Christmas:
just one single dinosaur.
--Kenn Nesbitt
The Tall Tale of Shorty Small
Shorty Small
was very tall
despite his humble name.
In fact, his height
was quite a sight,
and Shorty's claim to fame.
Yes, Shorty Small
was so, so tall,
to reach to comb his hair,
he'd have to climb,
for quite some time,
a ladder way up there.
To tie his shoes,
he had to use
a rope or knotted sheet
to clamber down
toward the ground
to even reach his feet.
And that is all
of Shorty Small
that's worthy to report.
For, overall,
although he's tall,
his tale is rather short.
--Kenn Nesbitt
was very tall
despite his humble name.
In fact, his height
was quite a sight,
and Shorty's claim to fame.
Yes, Shorty Small
was so, so tall,
to reach to comb his hair,
he'd have to climb,
for quite some time,
a ladder way up there.
To tie his shoes,
he had to use
a rope or knotted sheet
to clamber down
toward the ground
to even reach his feet.
And that is all
of Shorty Small
that's worthy to report.
For, overall,
although he's tall,
his tale is rather short.
--Kenn Nesbitt
Humpty's Big Fall
Humpty Dumpty sat in a tree.
Humpty Dumpty got stung by a bee.
He fell out and hit his head,
and now he thinks his name is "Fred."
--Kenn Nesbitt
Humpty Dumpty got stung by a bee.
He fell out and hit his head,
and now he thinks his name is "Fred."
--Kenn Nesbitt
Today's my favorite holiday
Today's my favorite holiday,
a day to sing and dance and play,
a day to laugh and jump and run,
a day for having loads of fun.
Today's the day I celebrate.
I'm overjoyed. I'm feeling great!
I'll throw a party, have a ball,
invite a friend, invite them all!
We'll play a game. We'll play a sport.
We'll frolic, rollick, romp, cavort.
We'll celebrate all over town.
We'll party till the sun goes down.
Another favorite holiday
just happened only yesterday.
And, yes, tomorrow, strange but true,
will surely be my favorite too.
You want to know how there could be
so many holidays for me?
It's simple. See, to qualify
a day just has to end in "Y."
--Kenn Nesbitt
a day to sing and dance and play,
a day to laugh and jump and run,
a day for having loads of fun.
Today's the day I celebrate.
I'm overjoyed. I'm feeling great!
I'll throw a party, have a ball,
invite a friend, invite them all!
We'll play a game. We'll play a sport.
We'll frolic, rollick, romp, cavort.
We'll celebrate all over town.
We'll party till the sun goes down.
Another favorite holiday
just happened only yesterday.
And, yes, tomorrow, strange but true,
will surely be my favorite too.
You want to know how there could be
so many holidays for me?
It's simple. See, to qualify
a day just has to end in "Y."
--Kenn Nesbitt
I think my dad is Dracula
I think my dad is Dracula.
I know that sounds insane,
but listen for a moment and
allow me to explain.
We don't live in a castle,
and we never sleep in caves.
But, still, there's something weird
about the way my dad behaves.
I never see him go out
in the daytime when it's light.
He sleeps all day till evening,
then he leaves the house at night.
He comes home in the morning
saying, "Man, I'm really dead!"
He kisses us goodnight, and then
by sunrise he's in bed.
My mom heard my suspicion
and she said, "You're not too swift.
Your father's not a vampire.
He just works the graveyard shift."
--Kenn Nesbitt
I know that sounds insane,
but listen for a moment and
allow me to explain.
We don't live in a castle,
and we never sleep in caves.
But, still, there's something weird
about the way my dad behaves.
I never see him go out
in the daytime when it's light.
He sleeps all day till evening,
then he leaves the house at night.
He comes home in the morning
saying, "Man, I'm really dead!"
He kisses us goodnight, and then
by sunrise he's in bed.
My mom heard my suspicion
and she said, "You're not too swift.
Your father's not a vampire.
He just works the graveyard shift."
--Kenn Nesbitt
The horsemen are headless this evening
The horsemen are headless this evening.
The werewolves are howling and hairy.
The mummies are rising from out of their crypts.
The vampires are equally scary.
The trolls are pugnacious and plodding.
The goblins are grinning and green.
The ogres are rabid and running amok.
The ghosts can just barely be seen.
The banshees are wailing and moaning.
The zombies are dragging their feet,
and gremlins engaging in mischievous fun
are dancing around in the street.
With such evil creatures abounding,
I don't know what I'm gonna do,
'cause Mom made my Halloween costume this year
and dressed me as Winnie-the-Pooh.
--Kenn Nesbitt
The werewolves are howling and hairy.
The mummies are rising from out of their crypts.
The vampires are equally scary.
The trolls are pugnacious and plodding.
The goblins are grinning and green.
The ogres are rabid and running amok.
The ghosts can just barely be seen.
The banshees are wailing and moaning.
The zombies are dragging their feet,
and gremlins engaging in mischievous fun
are dancing around in the street.
With such evil creatures abounding,
I don't know what I'm gonna do,
'cause Mom made my Halloween costume this year
and dressed me as Winnie-the-Pooh.
--Kenn Nesbitt
Love Tug o War
Me: I love you Keith.
Keith: I love you more!
Me: No, I love YOU more!
Keith: I love you tons!
Me: I love you tons more!
Keith: I love you ALL tons!!!
Keith: I love you more!
Me: No, I love YOU more!
Keith: I love you tons!
Me: I love you tons more!
Keith: I love you ALL tons!!!
Sunday, 14 March 2010
How can we protect children?
How do we protect children? Social services? I don't think so... Many children have suffered and died at the hands of these people. Caring people who can't be bothered to take a risk and intervene when the going gets tough. Turn a blind eye and hope that everything will work out to their favour, it rarely does. Poor defenseless children rely on these so called caring people for help, to be safe. Relying on these people often leads to their death, if only they new; maybe it is better for them not to know.
How can a child be taken away from it's mother for no other reason than 'The Child' made a mistake. Young. Easy. This child comes from a loving family and parents are fully supportive; however disappointed, supportive none the less. This child would of been loved and cared for... Where's this child now? This child could also be dead at the hand of 'Social Services' another bad judgement. Who knows would the 'Biological Mother' and her family ever find out? I don't think so...
How can a child be taken away from it's mother for no other reason than 'The Child' made a mistake. Young. Easy. This child comes from a loving family and parents are fully supportive; however disappointed, supportive none the less. This child would of been loved and cared for... Where's this child now? This child could also be dead at the hand of 'Social Services' another bad judgement. Who knows would the 'Biological Mother' and her family ever find out? I don't think so...
The 'child' they took the child from, still suffers today at the decision made, and recommendations to the judge from social workers to take that child from her. So I'm asking is that the right thing to do? I mean that young girl made a mistake 13 years ago and still never forgets about that child that was taken, after she looked after her baby for 5 days, snatched from the crib while she watched, helplessly, she now still bares the pain of that very day and will live with the scars of that horrific day for the rest of her life... To me that is equally as bad as children dying with their intervention because the girl bares the same pain of her child who she will never see again, dead for all she knows. So even over 13 years social services still are allowed to wreck and shatter lives of Innocent families.
Do they enjoy it? I think so...
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