That's great DT! Thanks....very true too.
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Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me,
"Will he prevail?"
"Surely," replied this other;
"His grandfathers beat them many times."
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers --
At least, for the little man
Who stood against the mountains.
Stephen Maria Crane
I like this too Merry...some great sentiments.
It will be six years in February since my dad died and I read this at his funeral because he was not religious and had an unorthodox approach to most things. Your poem and this one seem to make a good pair.
If I should go before the rest of you,
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice.
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So sing as well.
ps it was by Joyce Grenfell
Shame you were not so close mate, me and my Dad were best mates, used to drag me up hills at an early age, always remember walking the 3 peaks at 11 with him and his mates, he sneaked me a half of Guinness in the pub after, Happy Days:)
46 is too young, me and you are 46 this year, but we ain't going anywhere, too much to attempt yet;)
I love the "if" poem and can never read it enough...Hes I am glad you had a good run!
here is a poem by Kapka Kassabova
Geography for the Lost
The outlines of the hills are clear, very clear.
The stones are full of stately glee.
We don't know what has brought us here.
We don't know what will make us flee.
Seagulls in free fall, marbled weather-
with or without us, this city is complete,
and other cities for that matter,
and villages, and countrysides. They sleep
in peace without us. Yes, an insult. Never mind,
we're here. Univited, but we're here.
We even have a window, and we're pleased to find:
the outlines of the hills are clear, very clear.