Poem Page 1
 

     
           

Poem of Life

Anon 

Life is but a stopping place,

A pause in what's to be,

A resting place along the road,

to sweet eternity.

We all have different journeys

Different paths along the way,

We all were meant to

learn some things,

but never meant to stay...

Our destination is a place,

Far greater than we know.

For some the journeys quicker,

For some the journeys slow.

And when the journey finally ends,

We'll claim a great reward,

And find an everlasting peace,

Together with the lord

 

 

 

His Journey’s Just Begun

byEllen Brenneman

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.

 

 

 

 

Gone from my Sight

by Bishop Brent 

I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white sails

to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.

I stand and watch her until at length

she hangs like a speck of white cloud

just where the sea and sky come to mingle

with each other.

Then some one at my side says: 'There, she is gone!'

'Gone where?' Gone from my sight. That is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar

as she was when she left my side

and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight

to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her

And just at the moment when some one at my side says:

'There, she is gone!' there are other eyes watching her

coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:  

'Here she comes!' - And that is dying.

         

 

Because I could not stop

Death

Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just

 ourselves

And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

And I had put away

My labour and my leisure too,

For his civility.

We passed the school where

 children played,

Their lessons scarcely done;

We passed the fields of gazing grain,

We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed

A swelling of the ground;

The roof was scarcely visible,

The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses' heads

Were toward eternity.

 

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep...

Anon 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond's glint on snow.

I am the sunlight 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 flight,

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die.

 
 

You Can Shed Tears

Anon

You can shed tears that he is gone,

or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,

or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,

or you can be full of the love you have shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he's gone,

or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

or you can do what he'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.