My Grandma just recently passed, does anyone know of any sweet poems? - sweet get well poems
Sorry for your loss. My mother died two years ago, I did it in a memory of her. Hope this helps:
We did not know that morning God wanted to call your name,
In the life that he loved dearly, in death we do the same.
It broke his heart to lose you, you do it alone
For part of us went with you the day God called her home.
You gave us beautiful memories,
Your love is still our guide,
And although we can not see
You are always on our side.
Our family chain is broken,
And nothing seems the same,
But as God calls us one by one,
The chain will link again
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sweet Get Well Poems My Grandma Just Recently Passed, Does Anyone Know Of Any Sweet Poems?
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4 comments:
http://www.cs.rice.edu/ ~ IT / singer ...
"Do not stand at my grave and weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I'm not here, I do not sleep.
I am one thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle rain,
I am the fields of tire grain.
I am in the morning, silence,
I am in the graceful Careers
The beautiful birds in circles.
Starshine, I am the night.
I am in the flowers, flowers,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I'm not there - it has not.
- Mary Frye "
http://www.cs.rice.edu/ ~ IT / singer ...
"Do not stand at my grave and weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I'm not here, I do not sleep.
I am one thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle rain,
I am the fields of tire grain.
I am in the morning, silence,
I am in the graceful Careers
The beautiful birds in circles.
Starshine, I am the night.
I am in the flowers, flowers,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I'm not there - it has not.
- Mary Frye "
Perhaps no one has done better than Donne:
John Donne
"Death is not proud, though some have called thee"
Death is not proud, though some have called thee
Dreadfull powerful and you are therefore not so
Because they believe you reverse
This is the death of the poor, or you can kill me.
From rest and sleep, your photos, but the bees
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow
And soon, our best men with end panel of your
Rest of their bones and supplies Soules.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And you live with poyson, Warre and disease
Poppie or stimuli, and we can sleep well
And then, your best stroake me then why swell'st;
One short sleep past, wee After Forever
And death is not death that you take.
I do not know it's sad when you lose a special person.
You will here go through May;
http://www.poemsforfree.com/deathpo.html
You can use a bit of a few and add some of your own.
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