Ashtabula Disaster
Air -- "Gently Down the Stream of Time"
Have you heard of the dreadful fate
Of Mr. P. P. Bliss and wife?
Of their death I will relate,
And also others lost their life;
Ashtabula Bridge disaster,
Where so many people died
Without a thought that destruction
Would plunge them 'neath the wheel of tide.
CHORUS:
Swiftly passed the engine's call,
Hastening souls on to death,
Warning not one of them all;
It brought despair right and left.
Among the ruins are many friends,
Crushed to death amidst the roar;
On one thread all may depend,
And hope they've reached the other shore.
P. P. Bliss showed great devotion
To his faithful wife, his pride,
When he saw that she must perish,
He died a martyr by her side.
P. P. Bliss went home above --
Left all friends, earth and fame,
To rest in God's holy love;
Left on earth his work and name.
The people love his work by numbers,
It is read by great and small,
He by it will be remembered,
He has left it for us all.
His good name from time to time
Will rise on land and sea;
It is known in distant climes,
Let it echo wide and free.
One good man among the number,
Found sweet rest in a short time,
His weary soul may sweetly slumber
Within the vale, heaven sublime.
Destruction lay on every side,
Confusion, fire and despair;
No help, no hope, so they died,
Two hundred people over there.
Many ties was there broken,
Many a heart was filled with pain,
Each one left a little token,
For above they live again.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Related quotes
The Holy Virgin
The Holy Virgin
The time has…has come the time of death,
The death of my life, death of my breath,
Death of all but one…death of one but all,
Yet into the void for death I shall call.
It is near but death itself is nearer,
For all those who shall not be cheerer,
Death was the love I called upon into the world,
It was love that trembled as my death built a new world.
A new world with one less,
A new world with a greater mess,
For death of one is death of all,
Still into the void, My love for death I shall call.
‘Cause there is none like death
And none like death can take my breath.
For I was me and me alone,
And I was mine and mine own.
‘Cause there is none like me-
None as different…and not one so free.
Death was all I had ever known,
From when I as a seed into the earth was sown,
To the skies I reached out yet grew not,
Higher than all I was yet was so merely short.
I knew not what I wanted,
But I knew that what I was gifted,
But I knew not what I had to do,
But I knew very well what to do.
Behind bars I had threw mine soul and heart,
But not my mind which was my delicate art,
‘Cause that was all I had,
It was merry yet sad,
‘Cause I was far from all, I severed myself,
Yet my love was not for myself,
Unfathomable was my love for love,
Yet I hid it all up in a cove.
But I did what I did,
For I was me and not some other silly did.
I told them not when they told I was wrong;
When they told I was bad I told I was wrong,
For I knew my action,
Yet lost was the proper reaction.
Sins were mine, sins to all,
Sins were mine but mine sins not all.
Robbed by death I was of all but one,
One was my mind- the special one.
For my mind was mine and mine alone,
Amidst all it sparkled and shone,
For death touched it not as what it was it knew not,
Yet of that it never forgot,
For it was the only that was beleft,
When death made love to earth and none was left,
Because when all was gone,
Left was the different one,
When gone was the origin,
Left behind was my mind – The Holy Virgin.
JamesGreen…
poem by James Green
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John Robinson
AIR -- "The Drunkard"
Come listen, friends, and hear a song,
It is a doleful one,
About a young man, dead and gone --
He died far away from home.
John Robinson this young man's name,
His age I cannot tell,
And he was loved by all his friends,
And he was known full well.
His father and mother being dead,
It left him an orphan boy,
When he was with his brother
His health failed him, poor boy.
Kind friends they thought 'twould do him good
To travel for his health;
To California he did go
With his Uncle Zera French.
He was not gone but a short time
When a letter his friends received;
It told how homesick Johnny was,
How he for home did grieve.
It said that he was getting worse,
And his money was nearly gone,
And if he did not soon return
Never more would he see home.
It said, "Dear Brother, will you please
Some money to me send,
For I fear I have not got enough
To bring me back again.
The doctor says I must soon return,
If I wish my home to see,
For if I stay my life is short,
For the air disagrees with me."
His brother Will the letter read,
It made his eyes grow dim.
"Dear brother, he shall soon return,
For I will go and fetch him."
This brother dear was very kind;
With money, he went with haste
For to bring him home again,
But Oh! he went too late.
For he was sick, and very bad --
Poor boy, he thought, no doubt,
If he came home in a smoking car
His money would hold out.
He started to come back alone --
He came one-third the way --
One evening in the car alone
His spirit fled away.
No friend was near to speak to him,
Or hear his dying moan;
How sad, how sad it must have been
To die there all alone;
No loving friends to soothe his brow,
Or ease his weary form;
Poor soul, poor soul is now at rest,
For his soul to heaven has gone.
Telegraph dispatch was sent his friends --
How sad were they to hear --
How their loved one died all alone,
In a car with no one near.
The brother brought his body home
To his friends that loved him best.
He's sleeping in their grave yard now
Let peace be e'er his rest.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Michael Jackson
I didn't get to say goodbye
I didn't get to tell you that I love you
I didn't even tell you how I feel
You left in a hurry
Without a sound
With no clues
I have to ask why
Why did you have to leave me
Why didn't you tell me how you feel
I don't understand
Why you left
Is it because the God wanted you
But I am selfish I won't share you
Not even with God
You were my hero
My idol
My star
You had my heart
And when you died
You took my heart with you
But that's okay
Because I know I will soon
Be with you
Then I can have my heart back
You are in heaven
Away from all this distruction
But I must ask
Why didn't you take me
Then I could of truly told you everything
You are older than I am
But I still love you
You made mistakes
But so have I
I didn't want us to be together
But I want us to be able to tell each other anything
I wanted us to become Great friends
But now you are gone
Gone to heaven
Is that the best thing
If so for who
You left millions of people
Heartbroken and sad
Gone to heaven
Must be good for you
No distruction
No evil
All good
I didn't say goodbye
And that is killing me
I didn't say all the things I wanted to
That's tearing me apart
I am going to miss you
But as you leave
Another comes
Maybe he wil be like you
But I would have died for you
I am crying my heart and soul out for you
Praying you know that I loved you
You changed millions of poeple's lives
Including myself
You made me believe
I can too feel the music
The beat is within my heart
Closing my eyes
Picturing you here
Is not the same
Of having you here
With all of us
You left behind
Your family
friends
fans
me
Would you have come back to us all
Or would you wait for us
Until our time comes
But now it's time for us to let you go
People will never forget
How you changed everything
We will miss you forever
But now it's time to say goodbye
So goodbye Michael Jackson
poem by Makayla Straight
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Gently on the Stream of Time
Gently on the stream of time,
We are floating day by day,
In life's native boats sublime
We soon anchor in the bay.
We'll soon anchor in the haven,
Where the weary are at rest,
In that blissful port called Heaven,
Where are roaming now the blest.
CHORUS:
Be gentle, time be gentle with us,
While we are on life's troubled stream,
May life's foaming billows o'er us
Break away as day serene.
Gently on the stream of time,
We will swiftly glide along,
Till we reach the realm divine,
Then we'll join the heavenly throng,
Where our friends have gone before us
Waiting on the other shore.
In that home they sing in chorus,
"Welcome home the rich and poor."
Gently on the stream of time,
We shall shortly pass away,
We shall reach the heavenly clime
If God's commands we obey.
Gently on the stream of time
We are going one by one,
Listening to the evening chime
On life's journey going home.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Many People
Many people are here
Many people are not
Many people have left
Many people have come -
We have seen many people that are not here.
Many people have died
Many people have lived -
The many people we loved and do love, have gone and left us.
Many of our friends and family are lost
For fear has taken me.
The pieces have fallen and broken and can’t be fixed
Those pieces were my life
And now my life is gone
For I am alone with none to guide me through my time
I am alone
I am alone.
poem by Moe Moe Bob
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Hattie House
Air -- "Lily Dale"
Come all kind friends, wherever you may be,
Come listen to what I say,
It's of a little girl that was pleasant to see,
And she died while out doors at play.
CHORUS:
Oh! Hattie, dear Hattie,
Sweet little Hattie House --
May the flowers ever bloom o'er the little tomb,
Of our loved one, Hattie House.
She had blue eyes and light flaxen hair,
Her little heart was light and gay,
She said to her mother, that morning fair,
"Mother, can I go out and play?"
Her mother tied her bonnet on,
Not thinking it would be the last
She would ever see her dear little one
In this world, little Hattie House.
She left the house, this dear little girl,
On that bright and pleasant day --
She went to play with two little girls
That were near about her age.
She was not gone but a little while
When they heard her playmates call --
Her friends hastened there to save the child,
Alas, she was dead and gone.
Those little girls will not forget
The day little Hattie died,
For she was with them when she fell in a fit,
While playing by their side.
She was her parents' only child,
And her age was near six years,
And now she has left them for a while --
Left all her friends in tears.
She has left this world of grief and woe,
Dear friends, she has left behind --
She is waiting on the other shore,
To meet them bye and bye.
One fine morning, the fifth of July,
The summer flowers were in bloom,
Eighteen seventy-one, little Hattie died,
And is sleeping in her tomb.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Hiram Helsel
Air -- "Three Grains of Corn"
Once was a boy, age fifteen years,
Hiram Helsel was his name,
And he was sick two years or so;
He has left this world of pain;
His friends they miss this lovely boy,
That was patient, kind and brave.
He left them all for him to mourn --
He is sleeping in his grave.
He was a small boy of his age,
When he was five years or so
Was shocked by lightning while to play
And it caused him not to grow,
He was called little Hi. Helsel
By all friends that knew him well --
His life was sad, as you shall hear,
And the truth to you I'll tell.
His parents parted when he was small,
And both are married again.
How sad it was for them to meet
And view his last remains.
He was living with his father then,
As many a friend can tell;
'Tis said his father's second wife
That she did not use him well.
Just before little Hiram died --
His uncle and aunt were there --
He kissed them both -- bid them farewell,
They left him with a prayer.
Now he is gone, Oh! let him rest;
His soul has found a haven,
For grief and woe ne'er enters there,
In that place called heaven.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Wedding Band
Joey Wedding Band
JoAnn was the birth name of my wife
To me Joey was her name for a lot of our married life
One of the best things anyone could ask for in life
Is to have a good and loving wife
When it comes time for me to pass no matter day or night
I hope and pray that my wife will be my guiding light
I did not complement my wife as much as I could of
But with all my heart I gave her my love
My wife is in heaven watching over our family
Hoping we could be the best we could be
I am now living by myself and on my own
I have my dogs and my family but I feel alone
I never thought I knew how bad pain could ever be
Until my wife died and left me
At times my wife lets me know she is near
She turns off the picture frame to let me know she is here
On a chain around my neck I wear my wife’s wedding band
I also still wear mine on the finger of my left hand
To anyone who reads this poem do not let the time with your family go
Everything is gone before you know
poem by Michael Gelb
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Unfortunate
Fold her hands upon her breast,
And let her sweetly sleep.
She has found a perfect rest,
Beneath her winding sheet.
Her weary limbs are now at rest,
And free from toil and pain;
Her weary soul from earth has left,
But in Heaven lives again.
Death has closed her mild blue eyes,
That once was full of mirth,
Her lovely form once full of life,
Will now return to earth.
Touch her gently, let her lie,
This forsaken girl forlorn;
Tears may fall from strangers' eyes,
O'er her silent form.
She was a poor erring girl,
A wanderer alone,
Friends she had none in this world,
Nor a place she could call home.
She's found a home bright and fair
In that world above,
Angels dwell together there,
In perfect peace and love,
Place her gently in her grave,
And let her sweetly sleep.
Judge her not; for he who gave
Her life, her soul will keep.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Doomed Ship
The doomed ship drives on helpless through the sea,
All that the mariners may do is done
And death is left for men to gaze upon,
While side by side two friends sit silently;
Friends once, foes once, and now by death made free
Of Love and Hate, of all things lost or won;
Yet still the wonder of that strife bygone
Clouds all the hope or horror that may be.
Thus, Sorrow, are we sitting side by side
Amid this welter of the grey despair,
Nor have we images of foul or fair
To vex, save of thy kissed face of a bride,
Thy scornful face of tears when I was tried,
And failed neath pain I was not made to bear.
poem by William Morris
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A man on the bridge!
On that old bridge, during the last fight,
Threw the ring into the river to drown and rest,
Returned to find that young heart in the old body,
Still holding the placard of ‘I am sorry' to the wind,
Looking for the ring of love that he had lost,
In the new bridge, as the old is closed and secured,
The elderly man is searching for his sweet heart,
In every young woman who passes by his side,
from left to right, right to left and top to bottom,
Let people call him ‘dirty old man',
Without knowing his life long search for his young love,
Let people name him after every name of the devil,
As he does not realize that his love has gone old and cold,
But he has that hope, on the sidewalks of the bridge,
That connects the two different banks of life and death,
Rises up for the small ships to pass through,
The clocks at the bell towers are changed,
the noise of the bells remind him that he is alive.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Genocide
Mercenary batalions
Are poised to strike us down
Terminations conquest
Upon us now full grown
Save me, my hearts open wide
Help me, no question of pride
Save me, my people have died
Total genocide
Devastation hungers
She waits to leap to earth
Imminent liquidation
Before the grand rebirth
Save me, my hearts open wide
Help me, no question of pride
Save me, my people have died
Total genocide
Sin after sin I have endured
Yet the wounds I bear are the wounds of love
Frantic mindless zombies
Grab at fleeting time
Lost in cold perplexion
Waiting for the sign
Generations tremble
Clinging face to face
Helpless situation
To end the perfect race
Flashing senseless sabers
Cut us to the ground
Eager for the life blood
Of all who can be found
Save me, my hearts open wide
Help me, no question of pride
Save me, my people have died
Total genocide
Slice to the left, slice to the right
None to retaliate, none will fight
Chopping at the hearts, snuffing out the lives
This race departs, no one will survive
Heads to the feet, feet to the air
Souls in the soil, heavy in despair
End of all ends, body into dust
To greet death friends, extinction is a must
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost and Found
In a southern city lived a wealthy family;
In a southern city was the happy home
Of a father and mother and a little daughter.
In peace and contentment they lived alone.
But one summer evening there happened a misfortune,
Which caused the parents to weep and mourn,
For this little daughter, a loving little treasure,
Was a poor little wanderer far, far from home.
It happened thus, -- the mother went out calling
On a widow friend, who lived all alone;
She left her little daughter in the care of her father,
And through his neglect she wandered from home.
The father rocked his child, till her eyes closed in slumber;
Thought he to himself, I'll go over across the way,
And see a neighbor friend; he'll be there this evening,
And I must see him before he goes away.
He left his little one, he supposed, sweetly sleeping
In her little cradle, in the house alone,
And in his great hurry he left the gate ajar;
This thoughtlessness caused destruction to his home.
Soon after he was gone she awoke from her slumber,
Poor child, she then found herself all alone,
For no one was there, no one heard her weeping
As she wandered away far, far from home.
She wandered along on the busy thoroughbare,
No one seemed to notice this little one alone;
She wandered down Broadway till the little feet were tired,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
At last, getting weary, she sat down on the pavement,
And soon fell asleep, so tired had she grown;
In her troubled sleep she would softly murmur, papa;
This poor little lost one so far away from home.
A policeman came along and saw her sweetly sleeping,
On the pavement at midnight alone.
He gently picked her up and took her to the station,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
He advertised, but could not find her parents;
At last he took her to the orphan home,
Where she lived till a farmer in the country
Took her to live with him, this wanderer alone.
The father died o'er the loss of his daughter,
The mother sought for her three years alone;
At last she found her with kind people in the country,
Her poor little wanderer far away from home.
Kind people can imagine the joy of the mother,
When she found her little loving one.
"Oh God," exclaimed the mother, "I have found my little Alice,
My poor little wanderer far away from home.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Lovers Bliss......(a loss of true love)
Lovers Bliss
She wept with sorrow her tears down fall
Upon the ground of blood and gore
There in lies her lover's heart
That beats no more close to hers
Her heart that is heavy with out lover's bliss
She sends out a cry of gruesome death
'Why have thou forsaken me
And left me broken in sorrow and gloom'
Her tears doth fall
Like a waterfall at the loss
Of her lover in their lover's bliss no more
She recalls the days thine heart and soul left her arms
They held each other in arms entwine
Thou whispered softly upon her ears
I shall return to our lover's bliss
The memories linger on in her mind
As it dapples across her dreams
Thine tender hands caressed my soul
With loving hands a burning aching need
The passion intense with each passing kiss
We climb on high at the ecstasy of love and bliss
She cries a mountain of tears
As the memories linger on in her dreams
So deathly quite she stands atop a cliff
And trembles with remorse and pain
How can she live her life?
With out their lover's bliss
Looking towards the twilight skies
She screams at the stars above
"Crushed am I no more to live I need you by my side"
Then taking a step into the dark abyss
She joins her lover in eternal bliss
© Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George
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Her Blessings At Death (story)
(STORY) (5/22/12)
She was laying in her hospice bed
She knew in a short time she would be dead
She had no fear of death you see
She waited for it patiently.
She knew she lived a good long life
She was a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife.
Regrets- she knew she had none
GOD had blessed her with a wonderful son
A faith so strong in GOD above
And she showered family and friends with tenderness and love.
She was loved by everyone around
In her spirit and heart true love they found.
The most gentlest person you'd ever want to meet
Knowing her was such a treat.
When she went for her physical that year
The doctors found what they feared
A cancer cell growing so rapidly
It was something they did not foresee.
She showed no signs as many do
But they knew her life was through.
Her family was with her 24/7
They knew soon she'd be in heaven.
The hospital corridors were filled with people
And bells were ringing from all the steeples.
She was not a woman of fortune and fame
And of nothing in her life did she feel ashamed.
Just a loving heart so pure and true
That she shared it with everyone she knew.
They say she died in her sleep, as everyone began to weep.
But before she died - she had told her son
"tell the world- LOVES JUST BEGUN'.
poem by Louis Rams
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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A Discarded Dream
A life in writing is all I wanted
I watched other friends reach
pinnacles I could only dream about.
Their writing shone
like bright stars
as mine just gathered dust.
Rejected time and time again
The more I wrote
The more the rejections grew,
until in the end I looked at what I had
and the years I for-fitted
searching, scrambling for a dream
Every glimmer of hope,
and there were plenty
seemed to crumble
and like sand slip through my fingers.
In the end after my mentor and friend died.
The only person to encourage me
when I was filled with despair
something within in me died as well.
I looked back at what I called
all those wasted years.
I then gave up the one thing
that gave my life some meaning.
Discarded it as a child would a broken toy.
The dream I had was broken,
un-repairable so I thought.
I declined to be a nobody
without any future promised land.
Giving up without even taking a stand.
The years tumbled by
and I found much to my surprise
there was no longing left within my eyes.
The faith I had in myself
also died a lonely death.
The love for what I wanted to do
withered without repair.
I put my pen down
I swore for the last time.
No more would I pursue the dream
that had consumed me
Therefore, down the road
I went swearing never to return.
For years that promise I kept.
The fire flickered and dimmed,
but somehow never died
for deep within the embers
a small flame still flickered alive.
A chance encounter,
a request to read someone else’s work
and comment of two was enough.
To ignite the flame
to burn brighter than before.
Awakening a dormant dream
that had been cast aside.
The dream then flourished
with no ending in sight.
Everyday it awakens more.
Therefore, for those who read
what happen to me
don’t discard your hopes and dreams,
for one day you’ll turn a corner
and those dreams will come true.
9 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Last Night, I Died
Last night, I died
And there was no one there
There was no one for me to speak to
Except for GOD; who I did in prayer.
I asked GOD then to forgive me
And please, erase the sins of this man
Then I asked him to watch over my family and friends
And then I asked him please; hold my hand.
And as I lay there dying
Unto GOD I freely spoke
I thanked him for all the gifts he gave me,
I thanked him for all the words I wrote.
Then I closed my eyes and had memories
But not of the bad times, only the good,
Then I thought of the people I loved and trusted,
Not because I had to, but because I should.
And while I was there still alone
Awaiting for death to take my life,
I began to cry, but not for me
But for my son, and the woman I call wife.
Then I thought in Heaven who would walk with me
When I arrived, in my new home,
Then I thought who would be with me
Or in Heaven I thought, Would I walk alone.
And as I awaited For my life to end
I worried as I began to think of everyone else,
The sting of death really didn't bother me,
But only knowing, I would die by myself.
And then at last death it came,
And there for me, no one had cried
Because no one knew that I left this world
Because no one knew, last night I had died.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Precious In His Sight
Precious in the sight of God, are saints, who leave this earthly sod,
His children, who experienced death, as they receive eternal breath;
No longer left on the earth to roam, as they enter their eternal home,
Prepared for them by Jesus Christ, when they step into Eternal Life.
They’ll leave behind some family, still on that other side of Eternity,
Their loved ones indeed will grieve, but, we must know and believe,
That as they move from this earth, their life takes on Eternal Worth,
And they’re now, in a better place, provided by God’s loving Grace.
We may not understand God’s will, and probably won’t, that is until,
We step onto God’s Gilded Shore, to see His face and much more;
Dear friend, after all, we are His, and to enter into Eternity, is a Gift,
And its Full Measure, only starts, when from earth, the soul departs.
This departure, shall be for us too, as God’s Word is Sure and True,
Our departing from a world amiss, to God’s Heavenly, Eternal Bliss,
To be freed from all pain and strife, only when we enter Eternal Life,
This is the Hope, which has endured, to all, who belong to The Lord.
When one dies, although it’s sad, our heart for them should be glad,
We may have lost, one who died, but, now they’re at the Lord’s side,
Now precious in their Lord’s sight, being filled with Heavenly Delight,
And when we join them my friend, our time together will have no end.
(Copyright ©05/2010)
To a Friend
I sighed:
He died.
He had a million dollar job,
I sobbed.
He had tenure.
He had good pasture.
Oh! my God.
Oh! Great God.
He died.
He was a good man,
A special person
That you can
Easily be a great fan
Of.
He showed a lot of love
When you talked to this
Son
Of a gun.
He was a fun
Guy. You could talk
And walk with him
After the A.C. Convention.
I always had a special vision
Of him.
Because he was different,
He was a great family man.
Good health
Is more important
Than great wealth.
Money is there to be spent
And money cannot buy heaven
And the eternal life.
He had a great wife.
A great job,
I sobbed.
I sighed,
He died
Abruptly,
Suddenly
Without saying good bye.
He had everything,
Except one thing:
Eternity.
This is a pity!
He left eveything behind.
He was a man of a great mind,
He left with that too.
He was among a few
Good gentlemen left on this planet,
He disappeared in the sunset.
The world will forever miss this good man.
He was not a good friend,
Nevertheless, he was a friend,
A brother and a gentleman.
Copyright 2008 Hebert Logerie
Author of the poetry book 'Sparkles of Love' and Etincelles de l'Amour
Hébert Logerie is the author of “Mounts And Valleys of Love”
https: //www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.aspx? bookid=58359
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poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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