Poetry thread .. - Page 6 - Steve Saunders Goldwing Forums

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post #51 of 57 (permalink) Old 07-07-2014, 12:24 AM
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So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.

Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours.Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none.

When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.

Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.

Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

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post #52 of 57 (permalink) Old 07-07-2014, 10:09 AM
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Out riding my Wing, then it broke.
Called Broke, dead also be his Wing.

The two of us, miles apart,
Both our Wings simply won't start.

Called nearby HD shop, with voice so snarly.
"We will haul it, as long as it's a Harley."

Keep a tow list, make it handy
He might answer, "Name is Andy."
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post #53 of 57 (permalink) Old 07-08-2014, 01:16 AM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by pamila View Post
Just A Dream
© Jesse Fores
...
next to the girl that makes your heart pound
she draws nearer
her eyes are a little more clearer
you can feel it coming, a kiss
but then something comes amiss
you wake up and you ask yourself "was it just a dream?"
They call this a dream, (sigh)
which turned into a nightmare,...
because it was,.... just a dream.

.
.
Boy, do I need...
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post #54 of 57 (permalink) Old 11-05-2015, 10:55 AM
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Angel or Man?


I met an old man whose cloths were torn
In his hand was a Bible, it was marked and worn
I said Sir, where have you been?
He said, Montana I think, I just canít remember when
I said, why did you go? Was it do or die?
He said, Jesus sent me, I donít know why
I said, what did you see?
He said I saw a little boy, being buried under a tree
His parents were grieving; there was tears in their eyes
For that little boy, under the Montana skies
I said Sir, what then did you do?
He said, I told them about Jesus, just as Iím telling you
I said, Sir you havenít said much about Jesus today
He said, I donít know much, for I am only clay
But I did mention the little boy
His parents whose loss left them with no joy
Look around you son, and you will see
That Jesus is in you and he is in me
I said Sir, would you sit with me a while
I just lost my wife, and I cannot smile
He sat with me a while, under an old Oak tree
It was there he told me about Jesus
And he set my heart free
He walked on down the road
His walk wobbly and slow
Was it Angel or man? I will never know
So if you should meet an old man with a cane
A worn Bible in his hand, who canít remember his name
Let him tell you about Jesus, youíll be glad he came
You will smile again; you will never be the same.
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post #55 of 57 (permalink) Old 11-05-2015, 01:43 PM
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if that poem is any indication of what your books have in them, you are one very talented writer.



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post #56 of 57 (permalink) Old 11-05-2015, 06:21 PM
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I don't know about the talent, and not much of a poet, but thanks for the vote. I wrote that one a couple years back.
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post #57 of 57 (permalink) Old 11-18-2015, 07:21 AM
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Very nice poem. Well done.

Darkside # 1711
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