Life well lived poem

Added: Donzell Haislip - Date: 08.11.2021 17:15 - Views: 34011 - Clicks: 9906

Few occasions call for poetry more than a memorial or funeral service. What would you want read at your funeral? About Angels by Mattie Stepanek. Angel-underwear and Angel-shoes and Angel-socks, and. Heavenly Greeting by Mattie Stepanek. I could travel around the world and teach peace, and. I could visit exotic places and appreciate culture, and. I could live each day without pain and machines, and. I could celebrate the biggest thank you of life ever. If they would find a cure when I'm buried into Heaven…. I could still celebrate with my brothers and sister there, and. I could still be happy knowing that I was part of the effort.

Sightseers into Pilgrims by Evangeline Paterson. Prospice by Robert Browning Fear death? Untitled An old man, going a lone highway,. A life well-lived is a legacy of joy and pride and pleasure, a loving, lasting. With tearful eyes you watched him suffer and saw him fade away. Although you loved him dearly you could not make him stay. A golden heart stopped beating His small, frail hand at rest. God broke your hearts to prove to you He only takes the best. To the loved ones I leave behind by Sullivan Belleau. We follow a pathway that has no end as we travel through life day by day.

Together with those who are dear to our hearts and are there by our side, come what may. And while it may seem that the pathway has stopped, it merely has a rounded a bend, And our loved one goes on to a much brighter place down the pathway that has no end. 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 held 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 the Master's plan, a step on the road to home. All is well by Canon H. Scott Holland. Don't grieve for me I am vertical by Sylvia Plath. The trees and the flowers have been stewing their cool odours. And then he looked down upon the earth, and saw your tired face.

He knew that you were suffering, he knew you were in pain,. He saw the road was getting rough, and the hills were hard to climb. So he closed your weary eyelids, and whispered "Peace be thine. For part of us went with you, the day God called you home. Do not stand by my grave and weep by Mary Frye. She is Gone by Anonymous. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.

Untitled by Charlie Daniels. Let Me Go by Anon. My Father was someone who always had good stories to tell,. He was patient and kind and the very best friend you could ever hope to find. And I'm proud to tell the world that Insert your d name here.

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Cart 0. Writings: Recommended Poetry Few occasions call for poetry more than a memorial or funeral service. About Angels by Mattie Stepanek Do you know what angels wear? They wear Angel-halos and Angel-wings, and Angel-dresses and Angel-shirts under them, and Angel-underwear and Angel-shoes and Angel-socks, and On their he They wear Angel-hair - Except if they don't have any hair.

Some children and grownups Don't have any hair because they Have to take medicine that makes it fall out. And sometimes, The medicine makes them all better. And sometimes, The medicine doesn't make them all better, And they die. And they don't have any Angel-hair. So do you know what God does then? He gives them an Angel-wig. And that's what Angels wear. But now I don't have to Wonder about that anymore. I can't wait for my hug, God.

Thank you, And Amen. If they would find a cure when I'm a teenager… I could earn my and drive a car, and I could dance every dance at my senior prom. If they would find a cure when I'm a young adult… I could travel around the world and teach peace, and I could marry and have children of my own. If they would find a cure when I'm grown old… I could visit exotic places and appreciate culture, and I could proudly share pictures of my grandchildren.

If they would find a cure when I'm alive… I could live each day without pain and machines, and I could celebrate the biggest thank you of life ever. If they would find a cure when I'm buried into Heaven… I could still celebrate with my brothers and sister there, and I could still be happy knowing that I was part of the effort. I want to be A ten-year-old cherub. I want to be A hero in Heaven, And a peacemaker, Just like my goal on earth. I will ask God if I can Help the people in purgatory. I will help them think, About their life, About their spirits, About their future.

Untitled When tomorrow starts without me, And I'm not there 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 that you think of me, I know you'll miss me too. 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. Sightseers into Pilgrims by Evangeline Paterson I used to think -- loving life so greatly -- that to die would be like leaving a party before the end. Now I know that the party is really happening somewhere else; that the light and the music -- escaping in snatches to make the pulse beat and the tempo quicken -- come from a long way away.

And I know too that when I get there the music will never end. I was ever a fighter, so -- one fight more, The best and last! I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, And bade me crept past. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the element's rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace, then a joy, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul!

I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest! Untitled An old man, going a lone highway, Came at the evening, cold and gray, To a chasm, vast and deep and wide Through which was flowing a sullen tide. The old man crossed in the twilight dim; The sullen stream had no fears for him; But he turned when safe on the other side And built a bridge to span the tide. Why build the bridge at eventide? This chasm that has been naught to me To that fair-haired youth may be pitfall be. He, too, must cross in the twilight dim; Good friend, I am building the bridge for him. Memory nourishes the heart, and grief abates.

How thoughtless, how foolish I have been. But if the dead can come back to this earth, And flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you. In the brightest day and the darkest night. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, It shall be my breath.

Or the cool air your throbbing temple It shall be my spirit passing by. Do not mourn me dead Think I am gone and wait for me For we shall meet again. The Pathway that Never Ends We follow a pathway that has no end as we travel through life day by day. Miss me a little - but not too long, and not with your head held 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 the Master's plan, a step on the road to home. Now is the only time you own live, love, toil with a will place no faith in tomorrow, for the clock may then be still All is well by Canon H. Scott Holland "Death is just an open door I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you.

Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. 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 always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. 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. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near; safe and secure, all is well. I could not stay another day, To laugh, to love, to work or play Tasks left undone must stay that way, I've found that peace at the close of day. If my parting has left a void, Then fill it with remembered joy, A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss, Ah, yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow, I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow, My life's been full, I savored much Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch. Perhaps my time seemed all too brief Don't lengthen it now with undue grief Lift up your hearts and share with me, God wanted me now, He has set me free.

I am not a tree with my root in the soil Sucking up minerals and motherly love So that each March I may gleam into leaf. Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed Attracting my share of "ahs" and "spectacularly painted" And knowing I must soon unpetal. Compared to me, a tree is immortal And a flower-head not tall, but more startling. And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring. Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars The trees and the flowers have been stewing their cool odours. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.

Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must perfectly resemble them - thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation, And I shall be useful when I lie down finally; Then the trees may touch me for once, And the flowers have time for me. God's garden God looked around his garden and he found an empty place. He put his arms around you, and lifted you to rest.

Life well lived poem

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A Life Well Lived