The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)

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I have longed for death in the darkness and risen alive out of hell. I give a share of my soul to the world where my course is run. I know that another shall finish the task I must leave undone. I know that no flower, nor flint was in vain on the path I trod. Very sweet indeed is the joy of achievement, A joy that is truly God-sent, Something that causes us to be happy for long, And causes us to break out in song. The joy of a job well done, Is the best of joys under the Sun, Anyone would rather have it indeed, To eternal happiness does it lead.

Events — Ditmas Lit

Rare indeed is this particular joy, We cannot it lend or buy, Something that comes after hard work, For a hard worker everywhere it does lurk. The fruit of tiresome years, That comes amidst apprehensions and fears, It is sweeter than any known fruit, A hard worker it does properly suit. A joy sweet it indeed is, It causes one to have a feeling of bliss, Something that is rarer than gold, That gives joy untold.

Who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had. And finally, to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived; This is success. When I have 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. Remember that I have fought some hard battles, Yet won at the end of the day. Then forget to grieve for my going I would not have you sad for a day But in summer just gather some flowers And remember the place where I lay.

ISBN 13: 9780807136188

And come in the shade of the evening When the sun paints the sky in the west Stand for a few moments beside me And remember only my best. We trust that beyond absence there is a presence. That beyond the pain there can be healing. That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness. That beyond the anger there may be peace. That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.

That beyond the silence there may be the word. That beyond the word there may be understanding. That through understanding there is love. Birth is a beginning And death a destination But life is a journey A going — a growing From stage to stage From childhood to maturity And youth to age. From Innocence to awareness And ignorance to knowing; From foolishness to discretion And then perhaps to wisdom. From weakness to strength Or strength to weakness And, often, back again.

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From health to sickness And back we pray, to health again. From offence to forgiveness. From loneliness to love, From joy to gratitude. From pain to compassion.

And grief to understanding. From fear to faith. From defeat to defeat to defeat — Until, looking backward or ahead, We see that victory lies Not as some big place along the way, But in having made the journey, stage by stage, A sacred pilgrimage. Birth is a beginning And death a destination. But life is a journey, A sacred pilgrimage Made stage by stage To life everlasting.

I only want the acceptance I have needed for so long. I may not even be who you think I am, or even who you want me to be. If I had a voice now It would be loving And I would say thank you for all of your care. 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. Sometimes I feel like a solitary man. Under the night sky writing what I can. No one else is moving or driving cars. The world belongs to me under the stars. While pondering in my solitude Without a thought or plan, Thoughts jump into the mind Of this solitary man. They are just my own surprise.

In prison I know that solitary Can drive a person mad. But in those I once sent there, For the solitude they seem glad.

Voices of Urdu poets on war and peace

The Lord needed His solitude For at one time forty days. And again when in the garden, Where for the souls of men He prayed. So in my time of solitude I also have time to pray. A man found a cocoon one day a small opening appeared as the man watched. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and could go no farther. Then the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily.

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Something was strange here. The butterfly had a swollen body and shrivelled wings.

Sparks from a Nine Pound Hammer Poems Southern Messenger Poets

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected at any moment the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body which would contact in time. Neither Happened. Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through all our life without obstacles that would cripple us.

We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We would never fly. I asked for strength….. I asked for wisdom…. I asked for prosperity…. I asked for courage…. I asked for love…. I asked for favours….

I received nothing I wanted…. May God Bless You. When you get what you want in your struggle for wealth And the world makes you King for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say. The feller whose verdict counts most in your life Is the guy staring back from the glass. The sadness of the present days Is locked and set in time. And moving to the future Is a slow and painful climb. No wound so deep will ever go Entirely away Yet every hurt becomes A little less from day to day.

Nothing can erase the painful Imprints on your mind But there are softer memories That time will let you find. There are two days in every week about which we should not worry, two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension. One of these days is Yesterday with its mistakes and cares, its faults and blunders, its aches and pains. Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control. All the money in the world cannot bring back Yesterday.

The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets) The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)
The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets) The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)
The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets) The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)
The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets) The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)
The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets) The Keepers Voice: Poems (Southern Messenger Poets)

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