Poems and Readings

Extract from The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pulman

“This is what’ll happen,” she said,

“and it’s true, perfectly true.

When you get out of here,

all the particles that make you up will loosen and float apart,

 just like your daemons did.

If you’ve seen people dying,

you know what that looks like.

But your daemons en’t just nothing now;

they’re part of everything.

All the atoms that were them,

 they’ve gone into the air and the wind and the trees and the earth and all the living things.

 They’ll never vanish.

They’re just part of everything.

And that’s exactly what will happen to you,

I swear to you,

I promise on my honour.

You’ll drift apart, it’s true,

but you’ll be out in the open, part of everything alive again.”

Excerpt from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

If you love a flower that lives on a star,

it is sweet to look at the sky at night.

All the stars are a-blossom with flowers.

And at night you will look up at the stars.

Where I live,

everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found.

It is better like that.

My star will just be one of the stars, for you.

And so you will love to watch all of the stars in the heavens.

They will be your friends.

All men have the stars,

but they are not the same things for different people.

For some, who are travellers,

these stars are guides.

For others, they are no more than little lights in the sky.

But all these stars are silent.

You – you alone – will have the stars

as no one else has them and in one of the stars,

 I shall be living. In one of them,

 I shall be laughing when you look at the sky at night.

And when your sorrow is comforted,

for time soothes all sorrows,

you will be content that you have known me.

You will always be my friend.

You will want to laugh with me.

And you will sometimes open your window,

just for that pleasure.

The Friend by Alice Kavounas

In a circle of friends, the one who dies first
Is the friend you will never forget: 
This is the death that unhinges you
From the trappings of everyday life
And makes you – suddenly – absurdly grateful
For each new breath – beginning with this one. 

This is the death that could break you apart
In every way possible; that persuades you – 
In memory of that friend – to turn away
From whatever refuses to speak to your heart
From whatever threatens to numb your soul
From whatever it is that revels in death. 

Yet this, too, is the friend you need by your side. 
Listen. Together they urge you: Live your life. 

When Great Trees Fall by Maya Angelou

When great trees fall, 

rocks on distant hills shudder, 

lions hunker down in tall grasses, 

and even elephants lumber after safety. 

When great trees fall in forests, 

small things recoil into silence, 

their senses eroded beyond fear. 

When great souls die, the air around us becomes light, rare, sterile. 

We breathe, briefly. 

Our eyes, briefly, 

see with a hurtful clarity. 

Our memory, suddenly sharpened, 

examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, 

promised walks never taken. 

Great souls die and our reality, bound to them,

takes leave of us. 

Our souls, dependent upon their nurture,

 now shrink, wizened. 

Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, 

fall away. 

We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves. 

And when great souls die, 

after a period peace blooms, 

slowly and always irregularly. 

Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.

For Those Laid to Rest Here by Fran Hall

Under a soft blanket of fallen leaves,
safe in the hush of the whispering trees
I have come home.

My time here on earth is now done,
all the noise and the clamour, the joy and the pain,
the powerful life force that drove me onwards
has slipped away into the quiet of eternity,
and I am at peace.
From now on, I will dance through your memories
threading thoughts of love through your heart.
The pain of loss will gradually ease, and the sadness will lift.
the days will be lighter, and the nights not so long,
for I am still here.

When you walk through this place, you will feel me
in the gentle touch of the breeze on your face,
in the sunlight dappling the forest floor,
in the murmur of the branches high above you,
I am all around.

I have returned to the place from whence I came,
to the elements that created me.
The earth that gave me the life I so loved
has now welcomed me back to her,
to be at one with all her beauty.

Here, under my blanket of fallen leaves
I have found my resting place.
I have come home.

Never Ending Circle by Gordon Barton

The sun comes out to warm the day

But the wind blows cold with a North East chill

The heavens open, rain, hail and snow

It's nature's gift, the food of life

The sun's the energy

The wind the power

The rain the food

The chain's complete

The never ending circle

That is life

Darling by Jackie Kay

You might forget the exact sound of her voice,

Or how her face looked when sleeping.

You might forget the sound of her quiet weeping

Curled into the shape of a half moon, 

When smaller than her self, she seemed already to be leaving

Before she left, when the blossom was on the trees 

And the sun was out, and all seemed good in the world. 

I held her hand and sang a song from when I was a girl – 

Heil Ya Ho Boys, Let her go Boys

And when I stopped singing she had slipped away, 

Already a slip of a girl again, skipping off, 

Her heart light, her face almost smiling. 

And what I didn’t know, or couldn’t see then, 

Was that she hadn’t really gone. 

The dead don’t go till you do, loved ones.

The dead are still here holding our hands

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

When I Die I Want Your Hands on My Eyesby Pablo Neruda

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:

I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands

to pass their freshness over me one more time

to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,

I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,

for you to smell the sea that we loved together

and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living

and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,

for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,

so that my shadow passes through your hair, 

so that they know by this the reason for my song.

A Life that Matters by Michael Josephson

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived, at the end.

It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant

Even your gender and skin colour will be irrelevant.

So what will matter?

How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that

enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew,

but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s not a matter of circumstance, but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

Brian Cox quote

Our story is the story of the Universe.

Every piece of everyone and everything you love, of everything you hate,

of everything you hold precious was assembled in

the first few minutes of the life of the Universe,

and transformed in the hearts of stars, or created in their fiery deaths.

When you die, those pieces will be returned to the Universe

in the endless cycle of death and rebirth.

What a wonderful thing to be part of that Universe.

And what a story. What a majestic story! 

The Dash by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend

He referred to the dates on the tombstone

From the beginning…to the end

He noted that first came the date of birth

And spoke the following date with tears,

But he said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time

That they spent alive on earth.

And now only those who loved them

Know what that little line is worth

For it matters not, how much we own,

The cars…the house…the cash.

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.

Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left

That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect

And more often wear a smile,

Remembering this special dash

Might only last a little while

So, when your eulogy is being read

With your life’s actions to rehash…

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent YOUR dash?

These can incorporate all sorts of titles,  Mum/dad/nan/grandad.

The Loss of A Mother by Donna Ashworth

The Loss of a Mother 

Is an inevitable part of our life.

We know it will come around 

and we know the day will hurt 

but we are not prepared, 

never prepared 

for the tearing.

The tearing of a part of our soul 

from its very seams

stitches pulled asunder

heart wrenched in half

soul split in two.

But that tearing is not what you may

think

it is it is not her leaving you

it is the loss of her physical form 

which you have been so very used and attached to.

And now she must remove that part 

for it no longer serves you 

and you no longer need it

despite what you may think.

Because she made you well 

and she built all of her love into you 

cell by cell 

thought by thought 

lesson by lesson.

And the split that you feel 

is simply the new the new way 

you will carry on your love 

for your mother 

with your mother 

just in a different way

for she did not leave 

mother’s cannot leave 

they are in you 

look inside 

she’s there 

and that is unable to be taken now 

that is all yours to keep 

for evermore.

Goodbye To My Dad by Debra Marie Stratton-Van Buskirk

Goodbye Dad, I had to say

A few months ago on a cold winter day

I’ll remember the good times and try not to be sad

But saying goodbye still hurts so bad

I miss you more then I can express

My love for you will never grow less

I keep trying to imagine how I will go on

I realize tomorrow is another dawn

I know you’re in heaven above

Looking down on us with all your love

Only to whisper in our ear

Remember that I’ll never stopped loving you dear

I’ll always remember the good times we had

Remember the man, my wonderful Dad

I’ll remember you each and every day

And if I need to talk to you, I’ll just sit down and pray

One day we’ll be together again

To talk about all the places we been

Until the time I’ll always treasure

Having you for a Dad was such a great pleasure

Forever by Charly Cox

Can you be related to a soulmate?

Can you be born into fate?

Can two nodding identical profiles

Bear such growing worldly weight?

I sympathise my all

With those who need to find the one

When all of my searching

Stopped when I begun

Because the child in me has always known

The only one I need

Will always be my mum

Your Mother Is Always With You by Deborah Culver

She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.

She’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick, the

fragrance of life itself.

She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well.
She’s your breath in the air on a cold winters’ day.

She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow.
She is Christmas morning.

Your mother lives inside your laughter.
She’s the place you come from, your first home.

She’s the map you follow with every step you take.
She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy.

But nothing on Earth can separate you.

Not time.
Not space.
Not even death.

My Mother, My Friend by J. Allen Shaw

Mom, I wasn’t prepared for you to pass so soon,
There was so much more I had hoped we’d do.
I wanted to thank you for loving me again and again,
From the day I was born, I always knew my best friend.

No matter how many times I said, “You don’t know what it’s like.”
You knew what I needed to hear and would always be right.
Now you’re gone, I wish I had listened more and talked less,
I would have handled things better, with much less stress.

Missing You Nan by Sarah Harrison

The years will always roll on by
and time will always pass,
but every memory I have of you
will definitely always last.
I like to smile when I think of you.
I try not to be sad.
It’s pretty easy to do
with all the good times that we’ve had.
But sometimes I can’t help it,
and memories leak out of my eyes,
and I quickly try to brush them away.
I know you wouldn’t want me to cry.
I don’t know how it’s possible,
but I love you more now than I did then,
and I really cannot wait until
the day that I see you again.
Because, Nan, I know I would take hold of you
and never ever let you go.
Every day that passes by
I miss you more and more.

Sleep Now Nanna by Alexandra Burrows

Although I cannot see you,

I feel your presence near.

I will hold you close in memory,

Till I drop my very last tear.

So sleep now with the angels,

And your golden heart let rest.

Although our hearts are broken,

We know GOD took the best.

So dance beyond those golden gates,

And join your loving mum.

I’ll see you when I’m sleeping,

And pray for you to come.

And although this pain is painful,

And I really don’t wanna let you go.

I’ll wait for death to take me Nan,

So we can together one day glow.

Until that day I’ll close my eyes,

And see your smiling face.

I’ll lock you up inside me heart,

Until we again embrace.

So rest now my beautiful Nanna,

I’ll never forget how much you have done.

So until my hand meets yours again,

Sleep now in the sun

My Grandmother by Victoria L. Payne

In my Rose Garden of memories
I see you standing there
An angel in disguise
Who taught me how to care
I long to hear your voice
for real not in my dreams
I am missing you so much these days
how empty my world seems
People say time heals all wounds
that someday the pain will subside
But Grandma I can tell you
I think they must have lied
The emptiness I am feeling now
is strong and I am weak
These days go by without you
so dreary and so bleak
In my Rose Garden of memories
I know you’ll always be
for though you’re gone
from this mortal world
In my heart you’ll always be.

Granddad by Fiona Bourke

Granddad,
We know you can no longer stay with us,
you fought long and hard to be with us.
We know you now watch over and protect us.
Although we cannot hear your voice or see your smiling face,
We know deep down in our hearts that you have not left us.
Instead every day you surround us with the singing of the birds,
the rising of the sun and the falling of night.
So many broken hearts are left behind,
But in our deepest despair our greatest comfort lies knowing
that you are now at peace with the angels and God.
So as times passes our tears will dry,
our hearts will mend,
but our love for you will never end.

Cold by Carol Ann Duffy

It felt so cold, the snowball which wept in my hands,

and when I rolled it along in the snow, it grew

till I could sit on it, looking back at the house,

where it was cold when I woke in my room, the windows

blind with ice, my breath undressing itself on the air.

Cold, too, embracing the torso of snow which I lifted up

in my arms to build a snowman, my toes, burning, cold

in my winter boots; my mother's voice calling me in

from the cold. And her hands were cold from peeling

then dipping potatoes into a bowl, stopping to cup

her daughter’s face, a kiss for both cold cheeks,

my cold nose.

But nothing so cold as the February night I opened the door

in the Chapel of Rest where my mother lay,

neither young, nor old,

where my lips, returning her kiss to her brow, knew the meaning of cold.

Grandfather Kept a Garden Unknown Author

Our Grandfather kept a garden.
A garden of the heart;
He planted all the good things,
That gave our lives their start.

He turned us to the sunshine,
And encouraged us to dream:
Fostering and nurturing the seeds of self-esteem.

And then the winds and rain came,
He protected us enough;
But not too much because he knew
We would stand up strong and tough.

His constant good example,
Always taught us right from wrong;
Markers for our pathway that will last
a lifetime long.

We are our Grandfather’s garden,
We are his legacy.
Thank you Grandfather, we love you.

As We Look Back by Unknown Author

As we look back over time
We find ourselves wondering. . . 
Did we remember to thank you enough
For all you have done for us?
For all the times you were by our sides
To help and support us, 
To celebrate our successes,
To understand our problems,
And accept our defeats?
Or for teaching us by your example,
The value of hard work, good judgment,
Courage and integrity?
We wonder if we ever thanked you
For the sacrifices you made
To let us have the very best?
And for the simple things
Like laughter, smiles and times we shared?
If we have forgotten to show our
Gratitude enough for all the things you did,
We’re thanking you now.
And we are hoping you knew all along,
How much you meant to us.

Only One Father by George Cooper

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,
Hundreds of shells on the shore together
Hundreds of birds that go singing by
Hundreds of birds in the sunny weather
Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn
But only one father the wide world over.

A Long Cup of Tea by Michael Ashby

Death is too negative for me
So I'll be popping off for a long cup of tea
Do splash out on two bags in the pot
And for my god's sake keep the water hot
Please pick the biggest mug you can find
Size really does matter at this time
I'll pass on the lapsang with that souchong
And that stuff with bergamot
And stick with my favourite friend
You know the English breakfast blend
Breakfast! thanks for reminding me
There's just time before I fail
To stand on ceremony
Two rashers of best back, Should keep me
Smelling sweet up the smokestack 
So, mother, put the kettle on for me
It's time, mother, for my long cup of tea

Here lies a woman by Unknown Author

Here lies a poor woman who was always tired, 
She lived in a house where help wasn't hired: 
Her last words on earth were: 'Dear friends, I am going 
To where there's no cooking, or washing, or sewing, 
For everything there is exact to my wishes, 
For where they don't eat there's no washing of dishes. 
I'll be where loud anthems will always be ringing, 
But having no voice I'll be quit of the singing. 
Don't mourn for me now, don't mourn for me never, 
I am going to do nothing for ever and ever.

The Dead by Steve Halliwell

They’ve got a nerve, the dead,

with their insufferable absences

while we are left to dig 

deep for the funeral director’s

order of service -

coffin, music, incomprehension - 

at the wake

distant cousins devour 

pleasantries and leave early for trains.

They are never alone, the dead,

their unholy alliance with

the loved relative,

the stolen friend,

the young, the beautiful, the doomed,

injustice like

a blind scythe whistling in the high field

while we, resigned,

fill in paperwork for 

doctor, registrar, florist,

poet.

They’ve got places to go, the dead,

behind veils they steal,

mysterious, incorporeal,

a conspiracy of silence,

raised and translated

to grandeur,

to questions no answer.

Pressing your head against cold stone,

you cannot move 

at the thought

of clearing her room.

The Last Journey Unknown Author

Well it’s sure been a bit of a week,

but don’t sit there with that tear on your cheek, 

as while you’ve been crying, 

since you heard of me dying 

for me things have never been bleak. 

So I wrote you this rhyme 

to tell of my time 

at the Undertakers since I’ve been dead. 

I’ve had so much fun, 

even had my hair done, 

And I slept in a nice wooden bed. 

They looked after me awfully well,

Washed, and dressed me, 

and ‘boy’ I looked swell

though I felt a bit silly, 

cos their gowns were quite frilly 

but they covered my modesty well. 

Then they fastened my box, 

with a lid and some locks,

on the top was a shiny gold plaque. 

Then they lifted each side, 

for my final ride 

in the hearse with the smart men in black. 

In procession we rode, 

to my final abode, 

in a sparkly black limousine car.

The journey was slow, although not far to go, 

and I felt like a real superstar. 

When we got to the Chapel, I listened with glee 

of all the great stories they told about me. 

So please don’t be sad now my journey is done, 

but remember my humour, my laughter and fun.

Have A Nice Day by Spike Milligan

'Help, help, ' said a man. 'I'm drowning.'

'Hang on, ' said a man from the shore.

'Help, help, ' said the man. 'I'm not clowning.'

'Yes, I know, I heard you before.

Be patient dear man who is drowning, 

You, see I've got a disease.

I'm waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.

So do be patient please.'

'How long, ' said the man who was drowning.

'Will it take for the Doc to arrive? '

'Not very long, ' said the man with the disease.

 'Till then try staying alive.'

'Very well, ' said the man who was drowning.

'I'll try and stay afloat.

By reciting the poems of Browning

And other things he wrote.'

'Help, help, ' said the man with the disease,

'I suddenly feel quite ill.'

'Keep calm.' said the man who was drowning,

' Breathe deeply and lie quite still.'

'Oh dear, ' said the man with the awful disease.

'I think I'm going to die.'

'Farewell, ' said the man who was drowning.

Said the man with the disease, 'goodbye.'

So the man who was drowning, drowned

And the man with the disease passed away.

But apart from that, And a fire in my flat, 

It's been a very nice day

Warning by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Pardon Me for Not Getting Up by Unknown Author

Oh dear, if you’re reading this right now,

I must have given up the ghost.

I hope you can forgive me for being

Such a stiff and unwelcoming host.

Just talk amongst yourself my friends,

And share a toast or two.

For I am sure you will remember well

How I loved to drink with you.

Don’t worry about mourning me,

I was never easy to offend.

Feel free to share a story at my expense

And we’ll have a good laugh at the end.

If I had a voice by Caroline Wilkes

If I had a voice now, it would be loving,

And I would say thank you for all of your care.

If I had a voice now, I'd want to tell you

I'm sorry for not always wanting to be there.

My life, it confused you. It did so to me,

But I am released now and my heart is free.

The heart that was hidden beneath all the pain,

It felt so much more than I could explain.

And if I had a voice now, I'd say out loud,

I love you, I wish that I'd made that clear.

And in my lifetime I need you to know

That I was much more than I did appear.

These are the things that I'd say through choice,

if I had the chance...if I had a voice.

We Can Never Leave You by Author unknown

You decided 

to leave us

but we can never 

leave you,

not in our minds,

not in the inner

recess of our

wondering hearts,

nor in the long twilight

horizon where you

will always walk

in our memory.

Above on 

the mountain

the lark will rise

from the summer grass

to the sky above your home

and the song it sings

will forever carry

the mystery

of your going.

You turned away

from all our help,

so that we have to

ask for your help

now, not in answers

but in asking

the difficult

and beautiful

questions your life

bequeathed.

We are still not sure

if you ever asked 

for the helping hand,

but still we hold

our hands out now

to take yours in ours,

to reassure you

in the quiet of the morning

or the silence of the night

and in all the days

to come

when in our minds

you still need our care

to help you go on

where we can’t go,

to see you safe

beyond the quiet line

of our understanding.

To walk with you now

arm in arm

with our regrets

and our affection

that one last mile

along the way you

wanted to go, the quiet

in which we wave

goodbye, only the sign

of our secret promise

to you, the continued

and helpless testament

of our unspoken love.

Lost my Voice by Unknown Author  

How I live and how I die, is it down to choice,

How I feel deep inside, I find so hard to voice.

You may often think I’m high,

But so low inside and want to cry.

Is it just my stupid pride?

The real me I try to hide.

At times I want to end it all,

So I’m not there when they see me fall.

This burden that I carry, those dark nights on my own,

Can’t remember when it started, but just how much its grown.

Will I ever feel those pleasures, feel the summer breeze?

When in truth I’m empty begging on my knees.

Just to hear the birds sing, just to smell a flower,

But at night each lonely second, seems to last an hour.

The day ahead’s a battle, I’ll try to battle on,

And hope and pray one day I’ll wake to find the demons gone.

Too Cruel for Words by Unknown Author 

Why is life so cruel, it truly can be rough,

Don’t know how we can get through,

when things get oh so tough.

Tough and hard to understand, how much can we take?

None of us are perfect the decisions that we make.

You can set the right example, do the best you can,

But the road they choose is down to them,

each woman and each man.

You can only try to guide them, hoping for the best,

But some of us can’t handle things, and find it all a test.

But the grief I feel is, testament,

to the love we once did share,

But even though departed, I know you’re always there.

There inside my memory, there inside my heart,

And forever while I’m breathing, you’ll always be a part.

The Demon in a Bottle by Unknown Author 

When life can seem unbearable,

and you feel you just can’t cope.

You look for a solution to try and give you hope.

Many find salvation, through friends and family,

It may be good for others, but it wasn’t good for me.

I found mine in a bottle, well least that’s what I thought

People tried to help me, but to stubborn to be taught.

It gave me lot’s of confidence, to cope with life outside,

But then the demon’s gripped me, and there was nowhere left to hide.

Hiding in a bottle, is such a lonely place, waking up hungover with the day ahead to face.

But once you’ve drunk the first one,

the problems they seem less.

But by the sixth or seventh, you’re really in a mess.

You’re on a downward spiral, heading for the floor,

One bottle used to solve it,

but you now need more and more.

In life we’re dealt a hand of cards,

my hand held too much black.

I played the cards held badly,

and there was no turning back.

I’ve gone too far for help now, though many may have tried,

Some have given up on me, others stayed and cried.

I have much guilt inside of me,

for the suffering I have brought,

People did their best for me

and solutions they have sought.

So, I hope I leave a message,

 a lesson I can send,

I knew where I was heading;

soon coming to an end.

No one could have stopped me,

no guilt for you to bear,

And it did bring me some comfort,

to know that you were there.

Judge Gently by I. H. Plemmons

Pray don't find fault with the man who limps, 

or stumbles along the road,

unless you have worn the shoes he wears, 

or struggled beneath his load.

There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt, 

though hidden away from view,

or the burden he bears, placed on your back, 

might cause you to stumble too.

Don't sneer at the man who's down today 

unless you have felt the blow

that caused his fall or felt the shame 

that only the fallen know.

You may be strong, but still the blows 

that were his if dealt to you,

in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time, 

might cause you to stagger too.

Don't be too harsh with the man who sins 

or pelt him with word or stone,

unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure, 

that you have no sins of your own

for you know perhaps if the tempter's voice 

should whisper as softly to you

as it did to him when he went astray, 

it might cause you to stumble too.

When I’m Gone by Lyman Hancock

When I come to the end of my journey


and I travel my last weary mile


Just forget if you can,

that I ever frowned and remember only the smile

Forget unkind words I have spoken,

remember some good I have done


Forget that I ever had heartache


and remember I've had loads of fun

Forget that I've stumbled and blundered

and sometimes fell by the way


Remember I have fought some hard battles

 and won, ere the close of the day

Then forget to grieve for my going

I would not have you sad for a day


So on sad occasions just gather some thoughts

and recall the things I would say.

And come the shade of evening,

when the sun paints the sky in the west


Sit for a few moments and think of me

and remember only my best

The unravellingby Vivienne Anne Mackenzie Ward

Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease.

Like a much loved jumper.

One that you have had forever, a security blanket.

Then one day, you notice that it’s beginning to get holes, that the buttons are falling off.

It doesn’t worry you at first because you expect it.

Then the loose threads appear,

slowly at first, then gradually faster.

And even if you try and re-stitch them,

you realise that your beloved jumper is

Actually unravelling faster than you can repair it,

that it is losing its shape, its form and eventually its purpose.

That all you have left is a pile of yarn – and you can’t find the beginning or the end.

Yet you know it is in there, somewhere…

Together, but apart.

Two Mothers Remembered by Joann Snow Duncanson

I had two Mothers - two Mothers I claim

Two different people, yet with the same name.

Two separate women, diverse by design,

But I loved them both because they were mine.

The first was the Mother who carried me here,

Gave birth and nurtured and launched my career.

She was the one whose features I bear,

Complete with the facial expressions I wear.

She gave her love, which follows me yet,

Along with the examples in life she set.

As I got older, she somehow younger grew,

And we'd laugh as just Mothers and daughters do.

But then came the time that her mind clouded so,

And I sensed that the Mother I knew would soon go.

So quickly she changed and turned into the other,

A stranger who dressed in the clothes of my Mother.

Oh, she looked the same, at least at arm's length,

But now she was the child and I was her strength.

We'd come full circle, we women three,

My Mother the first, the second and me.

And if my own children should come to a day,

When a new Mother comes and the old goes away,

I'd ask of them nothing that I didn't do.

Love both of your Mothers as both loved you.

The Long Goodbye by Unknown Author

We join today to mourn your death,

But the losses began long ago.

Although your body stayed a while,

Your mind didn’t really know.

For you had got Alzheimer’s,

You failed to comprehend.

Your body went on living.

But your mind had reached its end.

So we've already said, "Goodbye",

To the person that we knew.

The person that we truly loved,

The person that was, "You".

And so we meet again today,

To toast your body’s end.

For it was true and faithful,

Until right at the end.

And now, when we remember,

We'll think of all the rest.

We'll concentrate on earlier,

And remember all the best.

For in the real scheme of things,

Your illness wasn't long.

Compared to all the happiness,

You brought your whole life long.

We think of you as yesterday,

When you were fit and well.

And when we're asked about you,

It's those things that we'll tell.

And so we meet in remembrance,

Of a mind so fit and true.

We're here to pay our last respects

To say that, "We love you".

A Fantastic Football Fan by Anthea Ballam

What’s with this game

That made you feel so high?

Was it your team

Your mates

The offside trap

And then that lousy shoot-out

Nearly made you cry?

What’s with this ball

That they could kick so high?

It meant the world

To you and them, so why?

It’s all about expecting

And then throwing in

It’s all about the winning

But not whining – not giving-in

The square, the short and long ball

The pals, solid as a rock

The unexpected tackle

Sudden shock

You felt the roar

And saw the lucky chip

The crossbar stopped the goal

That you were willing in

And in the end

At injury time

When you went deep and deeper

You didn’t find the goal

Or spot the sweeper

Then at the very end

When they were on their knees

You still walked tall

And like your mates

You claimed to take it all…

The penalty and the strike, your way

The win that set your heart aflame

The game, the pitch, the offside rule

The love that took your heart

Your final match at home — your ball.

The Train of Life

Life is like a journey on a train, with its stations,

Change of routes, differing scenes, and accidents!

At birth we boarded the train and met our parents,

And we believed they would always travel at our side.

However, at some station down the line our parents stepped off,

Leaving the train and us alone to continue on our own.

As time passed, other people boarded the train;

And they were significant: siblings, friends, children,

And even the Love of our life.

Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum.

Others will go so unnoticed that we didn't realize

That they had vacated their seats.

This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy,

Expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells.

Success consists of having a good relationship with all the Passengers .

Requiring that we give the best of ourselves.

The mystery to everyone is: we don't know at which station

We ourselves will be asked to step off.

So we must live In the best way - Love, forgive, and offer the best of whom we are.

It is important to do this, because when the time Comes for us to exit, leaving our seat empty, we should Leave behind beautiful memories for those who wil

Continue riding the train of life without us.

I wish you a joyful journey for the remaining years on Your train of life.

Reap success, give lots of love, and Be happy. More importantly, be thankful for your journey!

Lastly, I thank you for being one of the passengers On my train.

Fans of Gardening

Trowel in hand he stood there proud,

Of tomatoes that he'd sown.

Of Courgettes, Carrots, Beans and Herbs,

All of which he'd grown.

A lifetime spent with earthy hands,

from planting all the seed.

Providing for his family

A feast from which to feed

Veggies grew in great abundance,

Of every colour bright

He cared for them most tenderly,

He cared all day and night

Always proud but often strict,

This gardener had a way

Of helping little seedlings grow

So none would ever stray.

(Name) loved his allotment,

His veggies were his life

It was always somewhere to escape

When in trouble with the wife.

Think of me next time you stand.

Where a veggie garden grows

For there I’ll be in sun and earth

And in the wind that blows.

A Biker by Dick Underwood

Biking oil was in their blood,

Petrol flowing through their heart.

Throttle revving but the flood,

Meant their engine Wouldn't start.

The exhaust sounding rather rough,

Its noise as cutting as a knife.

The gallant spark not quite enough,

To fire their engine into life.

The key was turned, the button pushed,

Expecting now a biking roar,

But the engine ... knackered ... bushed,

Wouldn't function any more.

The biker (name) has died but still,

Their soul rides onward to the west.

Their wheels role onward, vale and hill,

They soon will find eternal rest.

So we'll mount up and onward ride,

Remembering well the one who died.

Towards the sunset on our road,

Our biker friend who's gone before.

Poems for Children

Little Snowdrop by Unknown Author

The world may never notice If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,

Or even pause to wonder If the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,

Or ever comes to be,

Touches the world in some small way

For all eternity.

The little one we longed for

Was swiftly here and gone.

But the love that was then planted

Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,

Our hearts know what to do.

 For every beating of our hearts

Says that we love you.

Child Gone too Soon by Unknown Author

Loss it is so cruel,
A sadness that can burn,
Little things can haunt you,
With darkness at every turn.
Your heart though knows that you are good, You did your best each day,
And though time it may have been brief,
It was special in every way.
You are struggling right now,
But that’s perfectly okay,
Life is cruel and so unfair,
There is little more to say.
But please try to remember,
Why it hurts so deep inside,
Why every day’s a struggle,
Why at times you’ve simply cried.
If you didn’t love or care about,
Those that are now gone,
You wouldn’t feel the pain inside,
Or question what you’ve done.
It’s because you cared so much for them,

And because you gave you’re all,

That it feels like it hurts much more now,

You simply had further to fall.
So all that love and care you gave,

Wasn’t wasted, not one bit,

You gave the best life to your child,

No question about it.

We thought of you today by Unknown Author

We thought of you today,
But that is nothing new
We thought of you yesterday
And will tomorrow, too
We think of you in silence
And make no outward show
For what it meant to lose you
Only those who love you know
Remembering you is easy 
We do it every day
It's the heartache of losing you
That will never go away.