SH Poetry Corner

Thanks for that Splendid We had that poem printed on cards given to us by the funeral directors at Dad's service. Still got mine tucked away in my memory box and on the back of it is this lovely verse:

Softly the leaves of memory fall,
Gently I gather and treasure them all,
Unseen, unheard,
You are always near,
So missed, so loved, so very dear

obviously you guys know i'm new here, and i'm really enjoying myself, but i've just been reading these poems, and found this one.
I lost my baby brother in April. He was 22yrs old i hadn't want to speak about this here but i now feel I must.
You see, this poem was read at his celebration of life ceremony.
I have a tear in my eye because of you splendid.
Thankyou. its not a bad tear, its a tear for my love for him and how much i miss him.
x

Twas the night before

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this house did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the house of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder
Not how I pictured a British Soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read,
Curled up on a poncho , the floor for a bed.
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, children would play,
And grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold nights chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honour so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered “Carry on Santa, its Christmas Day – all is secure.”

One look at my watch,
I knew he was right.
“Merry Christmas my friend,
and to all good night.”

Anon

roses are red
violets are blue
its half twelve
and I need a poo





print that out

roses are red
violets are blue
in the dead of night
I fell for you.

roses are red
violets are blue
in that bed
your so blue

roses are red
violets are blue
only seven you said
I'm full of goooo

Mission complete I march home
battered and worn
tall and rigid with pride
doors open wide
you give me warm welcome
drained I fall
on soft pillows.

"It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."

T'was The Night Before Christmas, He Lived All Alone, In A One Bedroom
House, Made Of Plaster And Stone.
I Had Come Down The Chimney, With Presents To Give, And To See Just Who,
In
This Home Did Live.
I Looked All About, A Strange Sight I Did See, No Tinsel, No Presents,
Not
Even A Tree.
No Stocking By The Mantle, Just Boots Filled With Sand, On The Wall Hung
Pictures, Of Far Distant Lands.
With Medals And Badges, Awards Of All Kinds, A Sober Thought, Came
Through
My Mind.
For This House Was Different, It Was Dark And Dreary, I Found The Home
Of A
Soldier, Once I Could See Clearly.
The Soldier Lay Sleeping, Silent, Alone, Curled Up On The Floor, In This
One Bedroom Home.
The Face Was So Gentle, The Room In Such Disorder, Not How I Pictured, A
lone British Soldier.
Was This The Hero, Of Whom I'd Just Read?, Curled Up On A Poncho, The
Floor
For A Bed?
I Realized The Families, That I Saw This Night, Owed Their Lives To
These
Soldiers, Who Were Willing To Fight.
Soon Round The World, The Children Would Play, And Grownups Would
Celebrate, A Bright Christmas Day.
They All Enjoyed Freedom, Each Month Of The Year, Because Of The
Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.
I Couldn't Help Wonder, How Many Alone, On A Cold Christmas Eve, In A
Land
Far From Home.
The Very Thought Brought, A Tear To My Eye, I Dropped To My Knees, And
Started To Cry.
The Soldier Awakened, And I Heard A Rough Voice, "Santa, Don't Cry, This
Life Is My Choice.
I Fight For Freedom, I Don't Ask For More, My Life Is My God, My
Country,
My Corps."
The Soldier Rolled Over, And Drifted To Sleep, I Couldn't Control It, I
Continued To Weep.
I Kept Watch For Hours, So Silent And Still, And We Both sat & Shivered,
From The Cold Night's Chill.
I Didn't Want To Leave, On That Cold, Dark Night, This Guardian Of
Honor,
So Willing To Fight.
Then The Soldier Rolled Over, With A Voice, Soft And Pure, Whispered,
"Carry On Santa, It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."
One Look At My Watch, And I Knew He Was Right, "Merry Christmas My
Friend,
And To All A Good Night."

Author Unknown.

T'was the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.

I've busted my ass for damn near a year.
Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night...
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better,
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter.

They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny.
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days - they all are the pits.
They want the impossible ...Those mean little sh*ts.

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads,
I made a ton of yoyo's - No request for them...
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM.

Flying through the air...dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees.
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment.
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason...
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season!

Taking a Ride.

Driving in my convertible
getting hot and steamy
I pull back the hood
revelling firm pink upholstery.

Looking for a place to park
just a little tight
I worked the gear stick
back and forward.

Then the rains broke
my hood pulled over
bright upholstery
we sat, the road flooded.