A number of people have sent us poems, either written by them or old favourites that lift the spirits. Some of these have already been included in the Tributes pages but here I have reproduced the others in no particular order.<\/p>\n
Sometimes<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Sometimes things don’t go, after all, Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well. Sometimes our best intentions do not go Sheenagh Pugh<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n on a clear day Thomas a Clark<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Your girl is still beautiful, Chris Appleby<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n from The Prophet<\/strong><\/p>\n When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.<\/p>\n When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.<\/p>\n Kahil Gibran<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n from The Little Prince<\/strong><\/p>\n In one of the stars I shall be living Antoine de Saint Exupery<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n For dancing Louise<\/p>\n There are crossroads in life Poetry of the Taos Pueblo Indian Nation<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n It is the same as it ever was. Henry Scott Holland (Canon of St Pauls, around 1900)<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Poem from Janet<\/p>\n When you lose someone you love, Your heart has grown heavy with loss; Flickers of guilt kindle regret There are days when you wake happy; Days when you have your heart back, It becomes hard to trust yourself. More than you, it knows its way Gradually you will learn acquaintance by John O\u2019Donohue<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Darling Louise, Both are written by the amazing Amelia who also I wish you’d met….<\/p>\n You know, I been thinking… When I read this I couldn’t help smile and cry and then think of you as well as Phil because your life’s masterpiece is beautiful, crazy, inspiring and though I will never stop wishing you were still here to add to it every day I am amazed by just how full and fantastic a masterpiece you left for us to remember you by. And new ones keep on cropping up, I love listening to you sing your Little Old Lady song…, your garden in starting to blossom, we are keeping your hula hoops spinning and your fabulous clothes are making your wonderful friends that little bit better dressed. I may not be brave enough to die my hair orange, but I reckon that’s ok you always said you loved it natural but i think today is a day for tangerine nails and a bindi..<\/p>\n Amelia also wrote this poem and I thought you would have liked it too.<\/p>\n We are the shapers, …The potential to be greatest. We are the freest, We are the dancing dawn greeters Follow us and remember to play Be bold and brilliant Louise you were always bold and brilliant, every day was your time, the picture you painted with your life is beautiful and we are so lucky to have it to look at now…. you will always shine on with me in a stream of never ending laughter. Words will never do justice to how much I love you x<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n This is what i wanted to read out at louise’s beautiful memorial afternoon\/evening – but i was too overwhelmed by the huge amount of people who gathered ….I wanted to read it out because i would have send it to louise, she would have appreciated it as much as i do.<\/p>\n Center of all centers, core of cores, all this universe, to the furthest stars Now you feel how nothing clings to you; Illuminated in your infinite peace,<\/p>\n a billion stars go spinning through the night, Once the realization is accepted that even for each to see the other whole against the sky. <\/p>\n And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing<\/p>\n which would infinitely enrich your life: In the dusk you notice the book shelves and you think of far lands you journeyed, And it comes to you all of a sudden: with its fears and events and prayers.<\/p>\n Yes Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other. that each protects the solitude of the other. <\/p>\n Rainer Maria Rilke<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n I would rather be ashes than dust! Jack London<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A number of people have sent us poems, either written by them or old favourites that lift the spirits. Some of these have already been included in the Tributes pages but here I have reproduced the others in no particular … Continue reading
\nfrom bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
\nfaces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.<\/p>\n
\nA people sometimes will step back from war,
\nelect an honest man, decide they care
\nenough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
\nSome men become what they were born for.<\/p>\n
\namiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
\nThe sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
\nthat seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.<\/p>\n
\nunfasten the gate
\nand take the path
\nover the machair
\nthrough the daisies
\ndown to the sea.<\/p>\n
\nstill the one you love,
\nstill there to talk to,
\njust on the other side of life.<\/p>\n
\nIn one of them I shall be laughing
\nAnd so it will be as if
\nAll the stars were laughing
\nWhen you look at the sky at night….<\/p>\n
\nWhen it is necessary to leave something behind
\nIn order to move forward.
\nThe path ahead stretches promisingly,
\n…compelling, provocative,
\nAn irresistible partner.
\nEven with the body in motion
\nwith the muscular yearning to complete step
\nThere occurs the crystal pirouette
\nWhen the heart turns backward, only for a moment,
\nbows slowly, slowly and murmurs ….
\nthank you for the dance<\/p>\n
\nDeath is nothing at all,
\nI have only slipped away into the next room
\nI am I, and you are still you.
\nWhatever we were to each other, that we still are.
\nCall me by my own familiar name,
\nSpeak to me in the easy way you always used.
\nPut no difference in your tone,
\nWear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
\nLaugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
\nLet my name be ever the household name it always was,
\nLet it be spoken without effect,
\nWithout the face of a shadow on it
\nLife means all that it always meant,
\nIt is the same as it ever was.
\nWhy should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
\nI am waiting for you, for an interval,
\nSomewhere very near,
\nJust around the corner.
\nYou see…All is well.<\/p>\n
\nYour life becomes strange,
\nThe ground beneath you becomes fragile,
\nYour thoughts make your eyes unsure;
\nAnd some dead echo drags your voice down
\nWhere words have no confidence.<\/p>\n
\nAnd though this loss has wounded others too,
\nNo one knows what has been taken from you
\nWhen the silence of absence deepens.<\/p>\n
\nFor all that was left unsaid or undone.<\/p>\n
\nAgain inside the fullness of life,
\nUntil the moment breaks
\nAnd you are thrown back
\nOnto the black tide of loss.<\/p>\n
\nYou are able to function well
\nUntil in the middle of work or encounter,
\nSuddenly with no warning,
\nYou are ambushed by grief.<\/p>\n
\nAll that you can depend on now is that
\nSorrow will remain faithful to itself.<\/p>\n
\nAnd will find the right time
\nTo pull and pull the rope of grief
\nUntil the coiled hill of tears
\nHas reduced to its last drop.<\/p>\n
\nWith the invisible form of your departed;
\nAnd when the work of grief is done,
\nThe wound of loss will heal
\nAnd you will have learned
\nTo wean your eyes
\nFrom that gap in the air
\nAnd be able to enter the hearth
\nIn your soul where your loved one
\nHas awaited your return
\nAll the time.<\/p>\n
\nyou already know I am no poet, otherwise I could have written something for you by now, but a couple of things written for my friend Phil who just died… could almost have been written for you so I thought I’d share them. You two would have got on well you had a shared a love of life, friends, things orange and happy dancing.<\/p>\n
\nif a lifetime is like a piece of art – then maybe we all just finish our masterpieces at different speeds….
\nNow I wish you were still here still being the most big bright paintbrush of the lot….
\nBut you made a wicked wonderful piece of art with your life baby, every dance, smile, fancy dress costume, genius idea, huge bear hug, red car….
\nCould fill a universe sized gallery with sunshine!<\/p>\n
\nThe makers and the culture creators
\nThe midnight soul bakers,
\nThe wild escapers<\/p>\n
\nWe are the wisdom, the coordinators,
\nThe beautiful wild creatures<\/p>\n
\nThe last down the trees
\nThe eyes of the underground
\nThe colour that will always resound.<\/p>\n
\nThe orange appreciators
\nThe first up the mountain
\nAnd the fastest coming down.<\/p>\n
\nWe are the lovers and the never ending laughter
\nShine on bright friends<\/p>\n
\nBecause now is our time<\/p>\n
\nalmond self-enclosed, and growing sweet–<\/p>\n
\nall beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.<\/p>\n
\nyour vast shell reaches into endless space,
\nand there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.<\/p>\n
\nblazing high above your head.
\nBut in you is the presence that
\nwill be, when all the stars are dead. <\/p>\n
\nbetween the closest human beings infinite
\n distances continue,
\n a wonderful living side by side can grow,
\nif they succeed in loving the distance
\n between them which makes it possible<\/p>\n
\nthe powerful, uniquely uncommon,
\nthe awakening of dormant stones,
\ndepths that would reveal you to yourself.<\/p>\n
\nwith their volumes in gold and in brown;<\/p>\n
\nof pictures and of shimmering gowns
\nworn by women you conquered and lost.<\/p>\n
\nThat was it! And you arise, for you are
\naware of a year in your distant past<\/p>\n
\nI hold this to be the highest task for a bond between people:<\/p>\n
\nI would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot.
\nI would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow,
\nthan a sleepy and permanent planet.
\nThe proper function of man is to live, not to exist.
\nI shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
\nI shall use my time.<\/p>\n