Favourite poem? (19)
Gosh, thanks for that. Anyone got a tissue, darn hay fever.
I received this poem, reasons I'd rather not discuss. It got me bigtime.
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 too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go.
For this is a journey
that we all must take
and each must go alone,
It's all a part of a greater 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 sorrow in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go.
I received this poem, reasons I'd rather not discuss. It got me bigtime.
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 too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go.
For this is a journey
that we all must take
and each must go alone,
It's all a part of a greater 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 sorrow in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go.
I like that poem very much Seabiscuit...here is one of my favourites...
The Invitation.
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer.
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of your hearts longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me in what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow.
If you have been opened by life's betrayals, or if you have shrivelled and closed through fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own.
If you can dance with wildness, and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul;
If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine.
And still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver full moon "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live, or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up, after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone,and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me where, or what, or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself;
And if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
-x-
p.s...I'm new here, so hope I am doing this right
I do apologise if this thread was only intended to reply to and not to post our own favorite poems 
...always happy to be informed when I have gone wrong tho! 
The Invitation.
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer.
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of your hearts longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me in what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow.
If you have been opened by life's betrayals, or if you have shrivelled and closed through fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own.
If you can dance with wildness, and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul;
If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine.
And still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver full moon "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live, or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up, after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone,and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me where, or what, or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself;
And if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
-x-
p.s...I'm new here, so hope I am doing this right
I do apologise if this thread was only intended to reply to and not to post our own favorite poems ...always happy to be informed when I have gone wrong tho! 
Dont worry Blu... your doing just fine! Nice poem 
I came across something similar to the one below and it really affected me at the time, does fill you with sadness..
I went to this party mom
I remembered what you said
You told me not to drink mom
So I drank soda instead.
I felt real proud inside mom
The way you said I would
Even though all my friends mom
Told me that I should.
I know I did the right thing mom
I know your always right
The party's finally ending mom
As everyone drove out of sight.
As I got inside my car mom
I knew I'd get home in one piece
'Cause the way you made me feel mom
So responsible so sweet.
I started to drive away mom
As I pulled into the road
The other guy didn't see me mom
And hit me like a load.
I lay there on the pavement mom
I hear the policeman say
The other guy was drunk mom
Now I'm the one to pay.
I'm lying here dying mom
I wish you'd get here soon
How come this happened to me mom
My life bursted like a balloon.
There's blood all around me mom
Most of it is mine
I hear the paramedics say mom
I'll die in a short time.
He didn't know where he was going mom
He was probably at the same party as I
There's one big difference though mom
He's going to live while I die.
Why do people drink mom
It can ruin your whole life
I'm feeling sharp pains mom
Just like a burning knife.
The man who hit me mom
Is walking, it's no fair
I'm lying here dying mom
While all he does is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry mom
Tell dad to be brave
For when I'm in heaven mom
Write my name upon my grave.
Someone should have told him mom
Not to drink and drive
If they'd often take the time mom
I'd still be alive.
My breath is growing short mom
I'm becoming very scared
Please don't cry for me mom
'Cause when I needed you, you were there.
I have one last question mom
Before I say good-bye
I didn't even drink mom
So why am I the one to die.
This is the end mom
I wish I could look you in the eye
To say these final words mom
I LOVE YOU & GOOD-BYE
I came across something similar to the one below and it really affected me at the time, does fill you with sadness..
I went to this party mom
I remembered what you said
You told me not to drink mom
So I drank soda instead.
I felt real proud inside mom
The way you said I would
Even though all my friends mom
Told me that I should.
I know I did the right thing mom
I know your always right
The party's finally ending mom
As everyone drove out of sight.
As I got inside my car mom
I knew I'd get home in one piece
'Cause the way you made me feel mom
So responsible so sweet.
I started to drive away mom
As I pulled into the road
The other guy didn't see me mom
And hit me like a load.
I lay there on the pavement mom
I hear the policeman say
The other guy was drunk mom
Now I'm the one to pay.
I'm lying here dying mom
I wish you'd get here soon
How come this happened to me mom
My life bursted like a balloon.
There's blood all around me mom
Most of it is mine
I hear the paramedics say mom
I'll die in a short time.
He didn't know where he was going mom
He was probably at the same party as I
There's one big difference though mom
He's going to live while I die.
Why do people drink mom
It can ruin your whole life
I'm feeling sharp pains mom
Just like a burning knife.
The man who hit me mom
Is walking, it's no fair
I'm lying here dying mom
While all he does is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry mom
Tell dad to be brave
For when I'm in heaven mom
Write my name upon my grave.
Someone should have told him mom
Not to drink and drive
If they'd often take the time mom
I'd still be alive.
My breath is growing short mom
I'm becoming very scared
Please don't cry for me mom
'Cause when I needed you, you were there.
I have one last question mom
Before I say good-bye
I didn't even drink mom
So why am I the one to die.
This is the end mom
I wish I could look you in the eye
To say these final words mom
I LOVE YOU & GOOD-BYE
POETS.COM BY LOSTCHILDHOOD
(ASITE THAT HELPED ME GET MY WORK PUBLISHED)(OUT JULY08)
"FRIENDSHIP"
Friendship comes from near and far
It doesn't matter who you are
Its like a bond you can not break
Its there all night till you wake
Its stronger than love
And travels very far
When it finds you
You will know who you are
It keeps you safe
And free from harm
Friendship is my friend
My lucky charm
Great Poems to all you folks above 
...and weldone metoyou for becoming a published poet!
...and weldone metoyou for becoming a published poet! The Way It Is
As the day unfolds and darkness falls
I look upon my time
In a world immersed in sadness
Of famine, war, and crime
The love I’ve lost and brushed aside
The fears I’ve overcome
The turbulence I’ve lived through
And the things I haven’t done
I often think of times gone by
And how it could have been
But I can’t move on with memories
And the future can’t be seen
I held a light that burned so bright
And stumbled on the way
Now the flame is just a flicker
As it lights another day
I’ve lived the way I’m destined
There is no turning back
And the wall that seemed so solid
Has now appeared to crack
Fragile is the life we live
And the things we have to face
The balance of our nature
That makes the human race
My thoughts unfold inside me
As I lay awake in bed
Not knowing what tomorrow brings
Is what I’ve come to dread.
STEPHEN LEE OSTROWSKI DECEMBER 2003
(written during treatment for cancer)
As the day unfolds and darkness falls
I look upon my time
In a world immersed in sadness
Of famine, war, and crime
The love I’ve lost and brushed aside
The fears I’ve overcome
The turbulence I’ve lived through
And the things I haven’t done
I often think of times gone by
And how it could have been
But I can’t move on with memories
And the future can’t be seen
I held a light that burned so bright
And stumbled on the way
Now the flame is just a flicker
As it lights another day
I’ve lived the way I’m destined
There is no turning back
And the wall that seemed so solid
Has now appeared to crack
Fragile is the life we live
And the things we have to face
The balance of our nature
That makes the human race
My thoughts unfold inside me
As I lay awake in bed
Not knowing what tomorrow brings
Is what I’ve come to dread.
STEPHEN LEE OSTROWSKI DECEMBER 2003
(written during treatment for cancer)
I wrote this last year. It occurred to me in a dream and i scribbled it down when i woke up. It should be read with a lancashire dialect if possible, not something i normally do. Not the best poem in the world but special to me all the same. Enjoy !
Bestest Prezzie
By eck ! it were cold this morning ! When't postie came to call
He'd brought me a little blue parcel, Wi a note on, a prezzie fer me ?
It were written of pen in sparkly ink, Bought from't shop, only 70p.
Wrapper were twisted and awkward As i wondered what the hell it could be
Down on't tag i followed the scribbles And it popped out as clear as the day
Said, Happy Christmas Daddy! love Ashleigh And me heart skipped a beat or three.
Who'd have thought that five little words Written down, giddy scribbled in haste
Could make a man feel so much better I were jumping, i were happy, carefree
It tickled me pink to think as i stood On the hallway freezing cold floor
My little Ashleigh had taken the time To walk all round the shops just fer me
Now i'm no big cry baby But a tear had trickled off th'eye
She ain't got much money at 10 years old But the gesture had filled me with glee.
At this point the contents didn't matter Of the little blue parcel in hand
Cause i'd just signed fer't best prezzie
Love from Ashleigh, and that bit were free.
written by Jeff Clarke 28 dec 2009
Bestest Prezzie
By eck ! it were cold this morning ! When't postie came to call
He'd brought me a little blue parcel, Wi a note on, a prezzie fer me ?
It were written of pen in sparkly ink, Bought from't shop, only 70p.
Wrapper were twisted and awkward As i wondered what the hell it could be
Down on't tag i followed the scribbles And it popped out as clear as the day
Said, Happy Christmas Daddy! love Ashleigh And me heart skipped a beat or three.
Who'd have thought that five little words Written down, giddy scribbled in haste
Could make a man feel so much better I were jumping, i were happy, carefree
It tickled me pink to think as i stood On the hallway freezing cold floor
My little Ashleigh had taken the time To walk all round the shops just fer me
Now i'm no big cry baby But a tear had trickled off th'eye
She ain't got much money at 10 years old But the gesture had filled me with glee.
At this point the contents didn't matter Of the little blue parcel in hand
Cause i'd just signed fer't best prezzie
Love from Ashleigh, and that bit were free.
written by Jeff Clarke 28 dec 2009
Another one of my own here, written in darker times
GLIMMER OF LIGHT
Time was taken away from me.
Even though i tried.
I wandered through time
in a dazzled state of mind.
Tortured from a thousand memories.
Mr lucky was no more.
Sitting in a cold room.
On the floor a desperate frame.
Watching the anguished rain
flow down beyond my face.
Why cant i see sunshine ?
Why cant i hold my happiness ?
Sunday beckons forth with
alarming regularity.
It cares not for my woes.
Never asking for reasons why,
in still calm waters, i wonder.
You should not dare to caress
the thoughts of joy.
There is a glimmer of light,
It shimmers just within reach.
A compromise from nature given.
Untold riches await my call.
And yet I cannot say yes,
I would lose the very thing
my heart bleeds for.
A stranger comes from heaven.
A calm and strong mind.
I seek no mistrust or emotive pain.
Only thoughts pure of spirit.
A guiding light to heal wounds past.
And from within grows might,
a force all powerful.
No more shall I seek the dead in reassurance.
This is my time !
With nothing to fear but fear itself !
I reign and am, despite illness of mind,
A king of kings within.
A throne without a royal standard.
My castle walls breaketh not.
In silent gratitude, my heart beats proud
No mortal mind can obstruct.
JEFF CLARKE
17/01/2004
GLIMMER OF LIGHT
Time was taken away from me.
Even though i tried.
I wandered through time
in a dazzled state of mind.
Tortured from a thousand memories.
Mr lucky was no more.
Sitting in a cold room.
On the floor a desperate frame.
Watching the anguished rain
flow down beyond my face.
Why cant i see sunshine ?
Why cant i hold my happiness ?
Sunday beckons forth with
alarming regularity.
It cares not for my woes.
Never asking for reasons why,
in still calm waters, i wonder.
You should not dare to caress
the thoughts of joy.
There is a glimmer of light,
It shimmers just within reach.
A compromise from nature given.
Untold riches await my call.
And yet I cannot say yes,
I would lose the very thing
my heart bleeds for.
A stranger comes from heaven.
A calm and strong mind.
I seek no mistrust or emotive pain.
Only thoughts pure of spirit.
A guiding light to heal wounds past.
And from within grows might,
a force all powerful.
No more shall I seek the dead in reassurance.
This is my time !
With nothing to fear but fear itself !
I reign and am, despite illness of mind,
A king of kings within.
A throne without a royal standard.
My castle walls breaketh not.
In silent gratitude, my heart beats proud
No mortal mind can obstruct.
JEFF CLARKE
17/01/2004
Not sure who wrote this, but it's one of my favourites;
With Every Goodbye...
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul ...
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't mean security…
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises...
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up
and your eyes open, with the grace of a man or woman...
not the grief of a child, and learn to build all your roads on to-day because
tomorrow's ground in too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight…
After a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much,
you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers...
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong and you really do have worth..
And you learn... and you learn...
With every goodbye...You learn…
With Every Goodbye...
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul ...
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't mean security…
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises...
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up
and your eyes open, with the grace of a man or woman...
not the grief of a child, and learn to build all your roads on to-day because
tomorrow's ground in too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight…
After a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much,
you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers...
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong and you really do have worth..
And you learn... and you learn...
With every goodbye...You learn…
I was given a book at Christmas..this poem was at the end of the book...thought provoking....and nice I think.
Tomorrow Never Comes.-- By Norma Marek
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly, and pray the Lord your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss, and call you back for just one more.
If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would tape each word and action, and play them back throughout my days
If I knew it would be the last time, I would spare an extra minute or two,
To stop and say "I love you," instead of assuming you know I do.
So, just in case tomorrow never comes, and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you, and I hope we never will forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.
So, if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day
That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss,
And you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear,
That you love them very much, and you'll always hold them dear.
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "thank you" or "it's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.
Tomorrow Never Comes.-- By Norma Marek
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly, and pray the Lord your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss, and call you back for just one more.
If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would tape each word and action, and play them back throughout my days
If I knew it would be the last time, I would spare an extra minute or two,
To stop and say "I love you," instead of assuming you know I do.
So, just in case tomorrow never comes, and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you, and I hope we never will forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.
So, if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day
That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss,
And you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear,
That you love them very much, and you'll always hold them dear.
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "thank you" or "it's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.
The Blackbirds are Rough Today
lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.
shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.
taken by tears like
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.
a hanky is in order your lord your
worship.
the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.
and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:
why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution
you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.
we might surely have some interesting
correspondence.
it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.
don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on
doors.
Charles Bukowski
lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.
shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.
taken by tears like
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.
a hanky is in order your lord your
worship.
the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.
and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:
why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution
you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.
we might surely have some interesting
correspondence.
it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.
don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on
doors.
Charles Bukowski
She Walks In Beauty like the night
a poem by Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
a poem by Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Not much of a poet but a friend just emailed me this, don't know who it's by
England my England
Goodbye to my England , So long my old friend
Your days are numbered, being brought to an end
To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that's fine
But don't say you're English, that's way out of line.
The French and the Germans may call themselves such
So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch
You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane
But don't say you're English ever again.
At Broadcasting House the word is taboo
In Brussels it's scrapped, in Parliament too
Even schools are affected. Staff do as they're told
They must not teach children about England of old.
Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw
The pupils don't learn about them anymore
How about Agincourt, Hastings , Arnhem or Mons ?
When England lost hosts of her very brave sons.
We are not Europeans, how can we be?
Europe is miles away, over the sea
We're the English from England , let's all be proud
Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud!
Let's tell our Government and Brussels too
We're proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue
Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack
And let the world know -
WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK!
England my England
Goodbye to my England , So long my old friend
Your days are numbered, being brought to an end
To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that's fine
But don't say you're English, that's way out of line.
The French and the Germans may call themselves such
So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch
You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane
But don't say you're English ever again.
At Broadcasting House the word is taboo
In Brussels it's scrapped, in Parliament too
Even schools are affected. Staff do as they're told
They must not teach children about England of old.
Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw
The pupils don't learn about them anymore
How about Agincourt, Hastings , Arnhem or Mons ?
When England lost hosts of her very brave sons.
We are not Europeans, how can we be?
Europe is miles away, over the sea
We're the English from England , let's all be proud
Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud!
Let's tell our Government and Brussels too
We're proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue
Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack
And let the world know -
WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK!
whatever happened to seabiscuit
The far side of the moon is black, and glorious grows the vine
ask anything of me you lack , but only what is mine.
For yours is the great wheel of the sun and yours the unclouded sky.
Then take my stars-take everyone and wear them openly , for none again shall see the match of you and me.
ROBERT GRAVES POEM.
PS-- that was from memory , sorry for any mistakes.
ask anything of me you lack , but only what is mine.
For yours is the great wheel of the sun and yours the unclouded sky.
Then take my stars-take everyone and wear them openly , for none again shall see the match of you and me.
ROBERT GRAVES POEM.
PS-- that was from memory , sorry for any mistakes.
medieval: The far side of the moon is black, and glorious grows the vine
ask anything of me you lack , but only what is mine.
For yours is the great wheel of the sun and yours the unclouded sky.
Then take my stars-take everyone and wear them openly , for none again shall see the match of you and me.
ROBERT GRAVES POEM.
PS-- that was from memory , sorry for any mistakes.
Love that Poem medievalask anything of me you lack , but only what is mine.
For yours is the great wheel of the sun and yours the unclouded sky.
Then take my stars-take everyone and wear them openly , for none again shall see the match of you and me.
ROBERT GRAVES POEM.
PS-- that was from memory , sorry for any mistakes.
I'm not sure many will appreciate this great poem but here goes anyway.....here's a link to hear it spoken...cos with the great Scottish language its better heard than read...if yer not Scottish that is....am I making any sense? 
Crystal29: I'm not sure many will appreciate this great poem but here goes anyway.....here's a link to hear it spoken...cos with the great Scottish language its better heard than read...if yer not Scottish that is....am I making any sense?
John Btejeman Myfanway always loved thisKind o’er the kinderbank leans my Myfanwy,
White o’er the playpen the sheen of her dress,
Fresh from the bathroom and soft in the nursery
Soap scented fingers I long to caress.
Were you a prefect and head of your dormit’ry?
Were you a hockey girl, tennis or gym?
Who was your favourite? Who had a crush on you?
Which were the baths where they taught you to swim?
Smooth down the Avenue glitters the bicycle,
Black-stockinged legs under navy blue serge,
Home and Colonial, Star, International,
Balancing bicycle leant on the verge.
Trace me your wheel-tracks, you fortunate bicycle,
Out of the shopping and into the dark,
Back down the avenue, back to the pottingshed,
Back to the house on the fringe of the park.
Golden the light on the locks of Myfanwy,
Golden the light on the book on her knee,
Finger marked pages of Rackham’s Hans Anderson,
Time for the children to come down to tea.
Oh! Fullers angel-cake, Robertson’s marmalade,
Liberty lampshade, come shine on us all,
My! what a spread for the friends of Myfanwy,
Some in the alcove and some in the hall.
Then what sardines in half-lighted passages!
Locking of fingers in long hide-and-seek.
You will protect me, my silken Myfanwy,
Ring leader, tom-boy, and chum to the weak.
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Mine is Rudyard Kiplings 'If'. Really hit the spot when it was read at Alan Balls funeral by his son.
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!