Young Tom Morris
A round of eighteen holes in one
Tom would have traded for the life
Of his darling son and loving wife
Too much to bear without his loves
Taken early to heaven above
Futile to chase a little white ball
When all earth's pleasures faintly pall
The only answer - fade away
To reunite one glorious day
Young Tom Morris (20th April 1851 to 25th December 1875)
A Scot, Open Golf Champion 1868,1869,1870 and 1872.
Died of a broken heart on Christmas Day
after the death of his wife and newborn son.
He was only 24 years old.
poem by Kris Viscardini
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The Cold Night
It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars--
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant's wife--among
her five children . . .
No answer. Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass. One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold . . . !
White thights of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly: In April . . .
In April I shall see again--In April!
the round and perfects thighs
of the Police Sergeant's wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!
poem by William Carlos Williams
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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White Snow (Christmas in April)
Not so many years ago,
We waited long and hard,
And all December,
The road were glazed with ice,
But never the field,
Covered with soft snow,
And on Christmas day,
Freezing as it was,
The ground still brown and green,
And no white Christmas,
And so Christmas passed,
And the year went on,
Until one freezing april morning,
The April showers,
Turned to sleet,
Which turned to snow,
And Christmas a long white,
Christmas,
Happened in April.
poem by Nick Hilton
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Christmas past
Christmas past
We always had a Christmas tree
My wife would decorate it without me
So many gifts by the tree
No empty space could you see
Our little ones would crawl all around
They would try climbing the gift mound
Year after year on Christmas morning
Kids tearing open gifts and I’m yawning
The kids woke early on Christmas day
We told the kids your older so go away
With the years going by
We could sleep longer my wife and I
Now since its just me
No more do I need a Christmas tree
My kids now grown and they see
What its like to do the Christmas tree
poem by Michael Gelb
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Louis
He speaks with a very strong accent though his English seems quite good to me
The man from the fishing Village in Malta by the Mediterranean sea
He likes to go rod and line fishing and cast his line from rocks on the shore
In the low tide in the early evening he fishes for two hours or more.
Louis is a likeable old fellow he looks quite well for eighty two
Though his life has never been easy and his sorrows he has been through
He does his best for to keep active he tends his garden every day
And nothing in life to him has come easy his gray hair he has earned one might say.
His wife Rina died in her mid sixties going back some fifteen years ago
She was suffering from stomach cancer her end it was painful and slow
For four decades they were together and he loved her his devoted wife
The final parting for him was heartbreaking though he still got on with his life.
Their only child Paul died in Vietnam in the sixties their cross of grief heavy to bear
A handsome young man in his early twenties with brown eyes and wavy brown hair
His comrades tell of how he died bravely but that of little comfort to them
Their son's loss to them was heartbreaking and for many years they grieved for him.
Louis lives in his seaside cottage with Blue his dog a Kelpie x Heeler cross
And though the death of his son and then his wife to him was a heartbreaking loss
He still gets on with life and with living and he goes fishing every second day
And it can be truly said of him that he has earned his hair of gray.
poem by Francis Duggan
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20th December
When your boyfriend insults you what will you do?
When your girlfriend insults you what will you do?
When your husband insults you what will you do?
When your wife insults you what will you do?
Of the way of life that goes on like this at times;
But who the cup fits must surely wear it.
I am a teacher on this love,
But at times i am being insulted by my students;
And that makes me learn better daily,
Because the road of life is crooked at times.
20th December,
Of the insult that i received from you as my lover;
Then i stopped to think for a while,
Why should i hear these words from you?
Oh life,
How hard it is for some people to change;
And, you cannot satisfy everybody on this earth.
Yes, whatever you do people will talk about you;
Whether in a positive way or a negative way.
20th December!
Of a call so close to me than your muse;
But my heart will lead me on always with my patience.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Remembering You (for my sister)
She was always up early before sunrise
Prepared her teaching kit and some provision
To catch an early ride is a prize
And to be with her students was her great mission
Happily she gave all her earnings to our mother
She have to save enough, no parties, no boyfriend
Oh, she loves us very much, she was a dear
She is a sister, a loving daughter, she is a friend
She loves to dance and sing at her heart's content
Even in the wee hours, we're on top of the world
I missed her every now and then
And my love for her that was never told
To a far away place she went
Life then was not easy to keep afloat each day
And so all her earnings she sent
And saved enough for rainy day.
Her loving arms always gives me the strength
Whenever i have struggle and pain
To be down on my knees and at length
And take up the Cross, be yourself again
I cannot hold her hands and hug her forever
God had taken her to her permanent home in heaven
But her beautiful memories will always linger
In my mind.. in my heart, she was a heaven sent
My special tribute to my sister Lyn
Note:
born on April 17,1945
died: Oct.2,2004
She died of cervical cancer
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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If There Were No Afterlife
Don't lie to me darling,
Is there an afterlife?
Or is this sad mortal thing,
This thing we call ‘love'
Is it all I can do to be your wife?
If this short time,
Is all there is for truth,
What's the point in prayer?
All I want is you.
And if there is a hell,
A hell for you and I,
That can't be really be hell, now can it,
So in that hell I confide.
But if the earth were heaven,
And you were here no more,
I would choose a damned life any day,
For heaven without you is none.
If tomorrow I were hanged,
Would you meet me in the afterlife?
And if there were no afterlife,
Would you still let me be your wife?
Darling,
What if there is no heaven?
Could I still call you mine?
Darling,
What if there is nothing?
Could we still be friends?
Darling,
What if there is everything,
What of us then?
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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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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Who is a wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can be a virtuous wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can stand the strife
To be a wife?
There is a woman
And there is a wife
Any one can be a woman
But not any one can be a wife
A wife will stand for her pride
A woman will always want a ride
A wife will say
“we ‘ll have a say”
A woman will say
“I ‘ld have a say”
A wife will say
“WE bought you those”
A woman will say
“Mom bought you those”
A wife would say
“We share the bills”
A woman would say
“I share the bills”
A wife cooks what “we” like
A woman cooks what “I” like.
A wife loves unconditionally
A woman loves conditionally
A wife always stands by…
A woman sometimes stands by…
A wife thinks about “us”
A woman thinks about “me”
A wife supports the plans
A woman plans the supports
A wife keeps the relationship
A woman snubs the relationship
A WIFE IS OPPOSITE OF A WOMAN
Who then is a wife?
Amidst all my strife
I‘ve found a darling wife
You too can, if you also tried.
poem by Jr. J.Lakie Kollie
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For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Christmas Angel
My Christmas angel is always my wife
Who loves me with patience of heart.
I couldn’t replace her with anyone else
As beautiful, compassionate and smart.
She lets me know when I’m inappropriate
Or when I’ve earned her favor and love.
She stays in control of my need for a woman
As I serve her and my Father above.
I never neglect to thank Heaven and God
For her love and our blessings from Him.
My angel of love is my wife at Christmas
As we adorn our tree to a Christian hymn.
When I think of life without her presence
I become fearful, upset and cry.
I love her more than life itself
Overwhelmingly till I die.
Our Christmas
Our Christmas
Christmas came early for you and for me
Christmas with no gifts to open
Christmas without any yuletide tree
Christmas with words of love spoken
Christmas was walking to York hand in hand
Christmas in awe at the Minster
Christmas togetherness was just what we planned
Christmas was chaffed legs and blisters
Christmas was cups of tea served early morn
Christmas was being together
Christmas was loving from dusk until dawn
Christmas remembered forever
Christmas was driving through floods for the view
Christmas ‘our planning’ was starting
Christmas our Christmas meant so much to me
Christmas our bitter sweet parting
poem by Stephen Holland
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The Priest's Heart
It was Sir John, the fair young Priest,
He strode up off the strand;
But seven fisher maidens he left behind
All dancing hand in hand.
He came unto the wise wife's house:
'Now, Mother, to prove your art;
To charm May Carleton's merry blue eyes
Out of a young man's heart.'
'My son, you went for a holy man,
Whose heart was set on high;
Go sing in your psalter, and read in your books;
Man's love fleets lightly by.'
'I had liever to talk with May Carleton,
Than with all the saints in Heaven;
I had liever to sit by May Carleton
Than climb the spheres seven.
'I have watched and fasted, early and late,
I have prayed to all above;
But I find no cure save churchyard mould
For the pain which men call love.'
'Now Heaven forefend that ill grow worse:
Enough that ill be ill.
I know of a spell to draw May Carleton,
And bend her to your will.'
'If thou didst that which thou canst not do,
Wise woman though thou be,
I would run and run till I buried myself
In the surge of yonder sea.
'Scathless for me are maid and wife,
And scathless shall they bide.
Yet charm me May Carleton's eyes from the heart
That aches in my left side.'
She charmed him with the white witchcraft,
She charmed him with the black,
But he turned his fair young face to the wall,
Till she heard his heart-strings crack.
1870
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Our child once grown
What if my wife revealed that she was pregnant by me?
However, what if our child one day chose simply not to believe?
In nine months and eighteen years, I need to answer this question.
Nine months for God and my wife to give birth to the little one.
Eighteen year for us to train them in the way that they should go.
But, it is our child choice in whom to believe once grown and outside our front door.
At home, our child shall be instructed about the consequences of their sin.
Our child will understand the punishment of God for sin in the end.
I will train our child up in the Godly way that they should always go.
I will show them the love of the wonderful God I personally know.
Once grown, by us, our child shall be shown how to live life righteously.
Regardless in whom they believe, they will always be our child to me.
How would I feel if in spite of everything I taught and showed our child?
Our child decided, once grown, to take another way in life for a while.
Although taught while young not to steal; once grown they stole any way.
Although taught while young not to lie; once grown they lied every day.
Would I abandon them as quickly as the rest of the world?
Would they still be the prized apple of your heart and still be daddy’s little boy or girl?
Still, there is always a chance our child might choose in God not to believe.
If our child does, it is not because of the lack of the right instructions from me.
I will love our child even if by their life they chose not to follow God.
Because no matter what our child is an important part of my heart.
In who to continue to believe that major choice of life shall be their own.
But, they are still our child though they choose not to believe or act right once grown.
poem by Reginald Walker
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Another Lonely Christmas
{b-side of I would die 4 u}
Last night I spent another lonely christmas
Darling, darling, u shouldve been there
Cuz all the 1s I dream about
U are the 1 that makes my love shout
U see, u are the only 1 I care 4
Remember the time we swam naked
In your fathers pool?
Boy he was upset that night
But boy was that ever cool
Remember the night we played pokeno 4 money
And u robbed me blind
Remember how u used 2 scream so loud
Cuz u hated that number 9
Hey, I saw your sister skating on the lake
This afternoon
Good heaven how shes grown
She swoons the boy skaters shes so tall
But of all your fathers children
All your fathers children, baby
U know, u are the finest of them all
U are brighter than the northern star
Last night I spent another lonely christmas
Darling, darling, u, u shouldve been there
U see, of all the 1s I dream about
U are the 1 that makes my love shout
U see, u are the only 1 I care 4
Yeah
My momma used 2 say
Always trust your lover
Now I guess that only applies 2 her
Cuz baby u promised me
Baby u promised me ud never leave
Then u died on the 25th day of december
Oh baby
Last night I spent another lonely, lonely christmas
Darling, baby, u, u shouldve been there
Cuz all the 1s I dream about
U are the 1 that makes my love shout
U see, u are the only 1 I care 4
Yeah
Your father said it was pnemonia
Your mother said it was strep
But the doctor said u were dead
And i, I say its senseless
Every christmas night 4 7 years now
I drink banana daquaris til Im blind
As long as I can hear u smilin baby
U wont hear my tears
Another lonely christmas is mine
Yeah, mine
Yeah
Another lonely christmas is mine
Last night, yeah, I spent another lonely, lonely christmas
Darling, darling, u shouldve been there, yeah
Cuz all the 1s I dream about
U are the 1 that makes my love shout
U see, u are the only 1 I care 4
Another lonely
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's My Honour
Loving you is my honour
Loving you is my thrill
Loving me is not easy
And can take all your will
Loving you is pleasure
Loving you is pain
When you take your love from me
It makes me go insane
You're the object of my desire
The essence of my heart
I'm alive when we're together
I die when we're apart
You give me such fulfilment
You fill my heart with life
For I'm honoured to be your husband
And I'm honoured you're my wife
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
poem by Kenneth T. Schofield
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Our Nephew Thomas
Our nephew Thomas Duggan died at twenty three
And he is one I'll never meet or see
For he is one i never met before
And he is at rest now forever more
In distant Chicago in the U S A
From where i live a half a World away
His loss to his family time can only heal
My late brother John's son he has one brother Neil
I met his mother Nancy years ago
A lovely lady this for her a tragic blow
A devoted mother and to John a loving wife
She has a heavy cross to bear in life
He died in an accident in April of this year
Such sad news one would rather not to hear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Life - The Story of Young Boy - Pt.1
She yelled and took the bottle
And then my dad yelled back
Young boy crying in the corner
Memories of my childhood are all black
“I hate you” she screams
But he hates her more
Their hatred builds
As they even their score
Pins her to the couch
Saying nasty things
Young boy is wondering
Is this the joy life brings?
Sister gets pregnant
One blames the other
Whiskey fix, does the trick
The young boy loses his mother
The working day is done
Father watching the TV
Young boy shows dad what he has done
Father doesn't want to see
Young boy makes a mistake
Dad calls young boy a name
Young boy crying in the corner
Filled with guilt and shame
Young boy seeking somebody
For his life he wants to share
Always seeking and never finding
Cause no one really cares
Mom moves away
Young boy so sad
Family broken
Parents glad
Their lives go on
But his does stay
Young boy, old life
With no time to play
Young boy now a teenager
Turns to drugs and booze
The pain he faced, he turns away
His past he wants to lose
Young boy then gets married
To a beautiful wife
Wants so bad to forget his past
And start a brand new life
Young boy yells at new wife
New wife yells at me
My young boy in the corner
The old cycle he does see
Young boy now starts seeking
To make my life brand new
For the benefit of my young boys
My pain they won't go through
New wife says to young boy
You're never going to change
She packs her bags and then she leaves
Another family now estranged
Young boy really hurting
Hoping pain won't last
For now he has a starring role
In the memories of his past
Young boy sitting wondering
Is the pain what it is worth
Broken people, doing broken things
To make a broken earth
Young boy now is fighting
Fighting for his life
Trying to make the old, brand new again
For his young boys and his wife
Young boy finds Our savior
That sits upon His throne
The abundant life he offers
Shows Young Boy he's not alone
The cycle it continues
But young boy wants to try
To fight for what his parents didn't
Then the cycle he'll defy
So young boy makes a decision
He also makes his creed
He hopes to fix his family
All to God he'll lead
So young boy gives it one last chance
With the hope that Jesus brings
Young boy knows it's not over
Til the fat lady sings.......
To be continued
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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