Poems for All Occasions Read Free Page B

deemed
    unnecessary.
    Hurrying me,
    with calm dignity
    Follow your angelic
    skilful guidance,
    Inspiration from your mind
    Far superior to mine,
    Knowledge, imparted
    with gentle dominance
    Calm, serene, yet instructive
    Encouraging
    a hand, sometimes
    too weary to type,
    reluctant to strive,
    willing, yet human-like,
    faltering to stop
    Delay this work on Angels.
    Gently you urged me on
    To rise above tiredness
    Triggering great thoughts
    Of the unknown world
    Where you and the Angel choirs
    Kneel in humble adoration
    Before a God Who recognises
    One low as me as His own.
    Thank you Being of Light,

A LADY AND HER DOLL
    FEB.1997.)
    In a psychiatric ward,
    she sat,
    Her long, grey hair
    falling carelessly,
    O’er bent shoulders,
    Swaying backwards,
    Forward, right and left.
    Dribbles, like ripples,
    Skipping o’er
    Ridged pale lips.
    In her arms, she cuddled
    A ragged doll, aged and torn,
    Its blonde hair
    Shaggy from years of
    pulling, hugging,
    clasping tugging
    Against her dwindling breasts.
    Breasts, once filled
    With maternal milk
    Compelled to dry
    In her maiden‘s nipples.
    Fifty years ago
    When her baby daughter
    Was taken from her arms,
    Arms, which still feel the longing
    to hold once again
    that soft bundle of long ago,
    A rambling mind,
    Broken heart
    Numbed and tired,
    All that‘s left is
    a muttering old lady,
    A RAGGED DOLL HER ONLY TOY.

SINÉAD’S SEARCH FOR HEAVEN
    (aged 4 at the time)
    Where is Heaven Nanna?
    Is it up there in the sky?
    Away up, up in the clouds,
    And do people have to fly
    To get through its big, big doors?
    Who will open them for me,
    Then Nanna, who’ll I see?
    Will the Angels fly about,
    Do they make the tea,
    Icing cakes and making buns
    With chocolate rolls
    For my sister and for me.
    Is God big and strong?
    And Mary quiet and meek?
    Do they mind the children
    Who have gone
    To join in Heaven’s sleep.
    Nanna I feel afraid at times
    As Heaven seems so far away,
    But I know that God is kind and good
    Yes I’ll soon be five you see.
    So then I’ll understand
    Saoirse is only three.
    Sometimes I’m bold
    But I promise you I’ll be
    A real good girl when I am five
    I’ll even climb a tree,
    And gaze at clouds
    Above my house
    Where the angels fly with glee.
    Then when I’m very old
    I’ll fly and only then
    HOLY GOD I’LL SEE.

TWO MEN
    Two men, criminals, robbers, they
    Hung close by Jesus on Calvary‘s Hill
    One on the right, the other on left
    Watched evil people His sacred blood spill.
    They heard Him say, in a voice sincere,
    “Father forgive them, they know not what they do,”
    The Heavens were filled with angels in grief
    Mere humans jeering the God of Peace,
    One of the criminals cruel was he,
    Hurled insults at the dying Lord,
    “If you are Christ, the son of God,
    Save yourself from torture and gall.”
    But the other criminal rebuked his friend
    “Saying you and I deserve our deaths,
    But this poor man did nothing at all
    Only did for others what He knew was best.”
    Turning to Jesus the good thief, spoke;
    “Remember me, when you reach your Home,”
    Though sore His feet and aching head,
    “This day you‘ll join me”, Jesus said.
    When we‘re in sin and forlorn our lot,
    Let‘s pause and think of the Thief or Paul
    Mary Magdalene and Augustine fell,
    But arose to sainthood, from dark to dawn.

WHO WAS THE GENTLE STRANGER?
    Who was the gentle stranger
    In the dark-grey hospital ward?
    Who took your hand so tenderly
    Whispering hope to you, that morn.
    Who was the kind old lady?
    Beside you in the bus?
    She talked and offered sound advice
    Returning love and trust.
    Who was the kind and helpful priest?
    In the Confessional that day,
    Who counseled you and eased your pains
    He filled your mind with prayer.
    Who owned the hand, that rescued
    Three children from a fire?
    He risked his life to save them
    Then left without Goodbye,
    Who gave her last brown penny,
    To the hungry on the street?
    Then walked three miles that evening,
    On two tired worn