[etni] Poems about death

From: "haggis@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Winnie" <winenbar@xxxxxxxxx>
To: etni@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 10:04:50 +0200
Dear Avi
Enclosed are some poems about death.  Some  relate to 'she' but are still
useable.  I see you have been getting alot of input and hope it is making
your job easier.  My heart goes to the family and the kids in school.
Take care and be strong.
Winnie Enbar
You can shed tears that she is gone,

Or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can?t see her,

Or you can be full of love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live for yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,

Or you can cherish her memory and let her live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what she would want.

Smile, open your eyes, love and go on**

David Harkins <http://thinkexist.com/quotes/david_harkins/>
(British<http://thinkexist.com/nationality/british_authors/>
Poet <http://thinkexist.com/occupation/famous_poets/> and
Painter<http://thinkexist.com/occupation/famous_painters/>b.
1958 <http://thinkexist.com/birthday/november_14/>)**



Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye     written in 1932





A poem by the twentieth century Senegalese poet Birago Diop

The Dead Are Not Dead

The dead are never gone:
they are in the shadows.
The dead are not in earth:
they're in the rustling tree,
the groaning wood,
water that runs,
water that sleeps;
they're in the hut, in the crowd,
the dead are not dead.



The dead are never gone,
they're in the breast of a woman,
they're in the crying of a child,
in the flaming torch.
The dead are not in the earth:
they're in the dying fire,
the weeping grasses,
whimpering rocks,
they're in the forest, they're in the house,
the dead are not dead



I Meant To Find Her When I Came



I meant to find her when I came;

Death had the same design;

But the success was his, it seems,

And the discomfit mine.



I meant to tell her how I longed

For just this single time;

But Death had told her so the first,

And she had hearkened him.



To wander now is my abode;

To rest, -- to rest would be

A privilege of hurricane

To memory and me.

Emily Dickinson



If I should go before the rest of you



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.



by Joyce Grenfell



The Next Room.



Death is nothing at all.  I have only slipped away into the next room.  I am
I, and you are you.  Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.  Call
me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always
used.  Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or
sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Pray, smile, think of me -  Let my name be ever the household word that it
always was, let it be spoken without effect, without a trace of a shadow on
it.  Life means all that it ever meant.  It is the same as it ever was,
there is unbroken continuity.  Why should I be out of mind because I am out
of sight?  I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just
around the corner.  All is well.



Canon Henry Scott Holland.






Remember



Remember me when I am gone away

Gone far away into the silent land

When you can no more hold me by the hand

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.



Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that we planned

Only remember, you understand,

It will be late to counsel then or pray.



Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember do not grieve

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christine Rossetti

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[etni] Poems about death

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