Living Poetry
Living Poetry
Living Poetry
To Mother With Love
Living Poetry
Living Poetry
Acknowledgements and thanks to: Roger Miller, Mike Read, Elisabeth Matthews
Living Poetry
Living Poetry by Sharon Miller
CopyrightŠ Sharon Miller February 2005
Living Poetry Table of Contents Foreword 3 Introduction 5 From Me To You 7 To The One I Love 9 Little Innocent 11 Garden Of Rest 13 Please Have Faith 15 Joan 17 Sunshine And Showers 19 Gift Of Love 21 Male Mail 23 Darkest Hour 25 Angel's Song 27 The Legend Of The Golden Virgin 29 Beneath the Menin Gate 31 Living Without You 33 The Nation’s Trees 35 Until We Meet Again 37 Final Visit 39 Christ Church, Lausanne 41 Sanctified 43 Jigsaw 45 My Inspiration Woke Me Up 47 Value Yourself 49 Wake Up To Dream 51 Let Love Pour Out 53 Sanctuary 55 Conclusion 57
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Foreword To have a passion in life is a wonderful gift - to be able to work with your passion is an amazing bonus - for other people to benefit from the fruits of your passion is an incomparable and rewarding sensation. Sharon Miller is not only able to communicate through her talents but express them in plain English, without dressing them in unnecessary stylistic felicities. Many have been touched or sought solace in Sharon's verse and after all, that is the very essence of a poet's desire. Sharon, I know, feels so fulfilled by being able to communicate her thoughts to others. May she continue to inspire. Mike Read Author and Broadcaster
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Introduction Welcome to this collection of Living Poetry which I hope will touch your heart. The poems that follow are about human needs and have been written to comfort, support, inspire and heal. I make no apology for the simplicity of my words, for that is what makes them accessible. Writing a poem is part of me and, once written, I long to share it. I feel very privileged to have this opportunity of connecting with you and send these poems with my love. Sharon Miller
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I have chosen the poem that follows as the first to appear in this book with good reason. It is like my signature tune. It is the poem I wrote on the morning my mother died in October 2002, which I subsequently read at her funeral. I received a very positive response and this led me to writing for a wider audience. My mother was ninety years of age when she died and I like to think that the ‘birth’ of my poems was her parting gift to me. I call the poem, very simply, From Me To You, and would like to share it with you now.
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From Me To You Surrounded here by those you love As you look down from heaven above Your earthly body left behind No more to toil among mankind There are some words I need to say Before you travel on this day. My thoughts return to years gone by When I was only just knee high You’d plait my hair and dry my tears And help through adolescent years. For all the life that we did share I thank you now for all your care. As time goes by I won’t forget You touched the lives of those you met. You’ve had your share of laughs and tears And coped with life’s advancing years And though it seems that you are gone Through us, your family, you live on. Perhaps today is not so bad You told me not to feel too sad Your spirit longed to be at rest And mothers always do know best. Released now from your worldly pain Fly free, My Angel, live again.
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When the right words do not come easily, a poem can give voice to everyone’s thoughts and feelings. Writing poems for the bereaved is a very moving and humbling experience. Families tell me that my poems offer great comfort at a difficult time. This next poem speaks directly to a loved one’s departed, offering hope and the belief that they will one day meet again.
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To the One I Love Although my heart is crying I’m trying to be brave But I know you will understand If tears I cannot save. I’ve brought along some flowers With beautiful bouquet Just like we sent each other To mark a special day. I had to choose a word or two To write upon your card How can something so simple Seem so very hard? I’m telling you these little things For though we are apart From you I cannot hide my thoughts Or what’s inside my heart. I dare not look too far ahead Now you have gone to rest But knowing you’re around me Will guide me to my best.
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Little Innocent It is always sad when we lose a loved one but when the loved one is a child, or young person, whose life has been tragically cut short, the pain seems so much greater. The next poem was written following the early death of a two month old baby. His mother had overcome drug addiction, put a difficult past behind her and rebuilt her life. There really is very little one can say at a time like this, but we can show our compassion and our love.
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Little Innocent Heaven's just opened its tiniest door For the smallest of angels who needed no more And welcomed him in with the tenderest care For an angel so perfect and sweet is quite rare. They found him a bed in a beautiful space Prepared for an angel surrounded by grace And promised to tend with the gentlest touch For an infant so precious is treasured so much. So know that the life of this child was a gift That healed every pain and mended each rift And though from the earth this babe has now gone The love and the hope that he leaves us lives on.
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There is a beautiful Garden of Rest at the crematorium near to where I live. Many people visit to mark an anniversary or just to spend some quiet time. The grass is always strewn with flowers left by loved ones and different wild flowers grow throughout the year. There are wind chimes, all manner of personal garden ornaments and children’s drawings lovingly attached to trees. Here is my poem to mark this special place.
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Garden of Rest I am not going far, only to the Garden of Rest Where I shall spend my days beneath the grass And daffodils of springtime, Watching families as they pass. I will wait patiently for your visits Be they impromptu or to mark a special day And be here when you need me, Solitude or to pray. And see it is a beautiful place In which I’m now a part So feel this when you’re near me And let it lighten your heart. Remember I’ll be all around Sending the warmest smile Each time you enter the garden To be with me for a while.
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Please Have Faith I am frequently asked by friends to write a poem for someone who is dear to them. A girl friend told me about a friend of hers whose husband had died leaving her with a young family. She wanted to send her a message saying that there was another life waiting for her around the corner and to ‘hang on’.
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Please Have Faith Please have faith For who can say What change will come tomorrow. But for today I share your grief, Your suffering and sorrow. Please take time To understand That pain becomes much lighter. As weeks go by You can be sure Your future will grow brighter. Please have hope Because I know Another life awaits you. But do believe And look towards A world that you can’t see through. Please just smile At break of day To welcome each new start. Take courage now And you will find
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Joan Prior to our marriage, my husband was a widower with two young daughters. People have said I was very brave to take on a ready made family but I always reply that they were pretty brave to take me on, too. There is a lot of mixed emotion surrounding step-parents, certainly not all good, but having children of my own made me consider my role very seriously. I have never thought being a step-mother a duty. Conversely, my stepdaughters and their families have brought much joy in to my life but I am aware that the way I have cared for them could have been the way another woman could have cared for my own children. On a lighter note, there can’t be many women who have written a poem to their husband’s first wife, as I have done here!
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Living Poetry Joan It’s twenty years since you’ve been gone I didn’t know you well If we’d have much in common Or be friends it’s hard to tell. You left behind a husband And two children still quite young You had much living still to do Your song was yet unsung. And then I stepped into your shoes The man you’d loved was mine With your two daughters in my care Our family seemed fine. We had two daughters of our own So now I am a mother And cannot think how it would be To leave them to another. A mother has the world to lose As you did once before My world was just beginning As you entered heaven’s door. To say goodbye must be so hard To look on loved ones’ faces At times I feel so much for you Though we’re in different places. 17
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Sunshine and Showers It is wonderful to write for happy occasions, such as weddings and christenings, but sometimes even these can be touched by sadness. I was asked to write a poem to be read during the marriage service of Wendy and her Canadian partner, Jim. Two months before their big day, Wendy’s grandparents were tragically killed in a car accident and the wedding was almost cancelled. On consideration, they decided to go ahead with their plans in memory of Wendy’s grandparents. The couple’s engagement had been interspersed with laughter and tears, suggesting a time of sunshine and showers, so a rainbow theme was chosen for their wedding.
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Sunshine and Showers Our hearts are tinged with sadness For loved ones who are gone But may it comfort you to know Your grandparents look on. So to family and to friends Be sure, they’re never far away, And so with great affection We remember them today. It’s been a time of mixed emotions There’ve been smiles and there’ve been tears And when the wedding seemed unlikely You have pushed on through your fears. If they were here in person And could say a word or two You know that they would want to send Their joy and love to you. At the end of every rainbow Or so we have been told Those who truly do believe Will find a crock of gold. Such treasure has been held today By Wendy and by Jim Now that he has found her And now that she’s found him.
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There is nothing quite like sharing in the happiness of others. The privilege of finding the right words for a wedding service is very exciting. The piece that follows was written for a lady, who was asked to read a poem of her choice by the bride. It was important that the message contained in the words was hers and not mine. I also felt that the poem should have a ‘living’ quality about it. A bit like seeing something different in a picture every time you look at it. I wanted the poem to speak to the young couple today but have grown with their marriage when they read it in thirty or forty years time.
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Living Poetry Gift of Love Marriage is the most beautiful gift That grows as we travel through life So our thoughts are with you, John and Lucy, As you have become man and wife. If love begins like a rose in bud With a hint of the deepest red Then the promise to blossom and flourish Is waiting for you just ahead. Your marriage has blessed the world today Unleashing its treasures in store For it knows that by standing together You are stronger than ever before. It’s joyfully pooling resources So you both find the best way to live Considering your needs as a couple Receiving just as you would give. Enlightenment, growth and forgiveness Will no doubt in time play their part Feeling safe to face your emotions And being true to what’s inside your heart. May your thoughts and actions be guided As you dream, as you build, as you dare, Hold tight to your love for each other
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Male Mail With four daughters, weddings in our family are quite an occasion. Everyone in our house, apart from my husband, seems to be either the bride or a bridesmaid. On the day our second daughter brought her husband-to-be home to meet us, we had the feeling that this was the one. We were right! This poem was written on that same day.
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Male Mail Dear God, we just want to say thank you For sending another good man. This time it’s our second daughter Who’s the focus of your worldly plan. Now it’s not that we’re in a hurry But in time we’ll be needing two more So perhaps you could note in your diary The daughters we have, three and four.
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Darkest Hour I love to send cards or bookmarks to friends when they seem a bit down, to let them know I care. The following poem was written for a friend who told me of her pain as she approached the first anniversary of her son’s death.
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Darkest Hour Somewhere between the night and day As thoughts fly round in disarray My body longs to go to sleep But all I seem to do is weep. The loss I feel is hard to bear Though there are people everywhere Who try to smile but need to cry Remembering good times gone by. Like me they’ve shared a special love And now have angels up above Who’ll hold me close when nights are long And soothe me with angelic song. God, you gave me tears to weep Now comfort me so I may sleep Please guide me through each waking day And heal my heart along the way.
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Angel’s Song Some of my mother’s own words to me are captured in this next poem. She certainly told me that she would watch over me and pray for me with all her might. I encourage people to pass it on to a friend who may find comfort in the words.
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Angel’s Song I loved you so when I was near And I still will you need not fear I’ll pray for you with all my might Watch over you each day and night And all my angel friends above Will shower you with endless love.
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The Legend of the Golden Virgin During 2003 I joined a party on a trip to the First World War Trenches. Before making the journey, I read several books around the subject and had heard about the legend of The Golden Virgin. The Golden Virgin is a beautiful statue of Mary holding the baby Jesus at the top of the basilica in Albert. Legend had it that the war would not be over until the statue fell. The war did end within months of the statue being toppled. The statue has now been replaced to its former glory.
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Living Poetry The Legend of the Golden Virgin (Albert, France) The Virgin Mary’s statue Holding up her infant child Topped the beautiful basilica Above where soldiers filed. She watched them going to the front She heard their marching feet As they made their one way journey Up the narrow cobbled street. The Virgin wept as shells were dropped Felt giddy from their din Cried out when nearly toppled As she had led them in. And so the legend started It said that all could not be well – The war would not be ended ‘til the ‘Leaning Virgin’ fell. It was in the spring offensive When the Germans took the town That the British did their shelling Which brought the Virgin down. In months the war was over Maybe truth lay in the story Now she looks upon the battlefield Resplendent in her glory. 29
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Beneath the Menin Gate For many of our party visiting France and Belgium, one of the most moving moments was our visit to the Menin Gate. We arrived just before six o’clock in the evening and the rain had started to fall. Sensing the emotion of the people present, it seemed as if tears were gently falling from heaven.
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Beneath the Menin Gate ‘The last man through please bolt the gate’ The soldiers used to say And now I’m here on that same ground On this another day. I listen to the Ypres hymn I hear the bugler’s cry And gentle rain keeps falling Like tears sent from the sky. So many to remember Name, on name, on name – I won’t forget my visit Or ever be the same.
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Living Without You I am sure you will remember the tragic loss of Caron Keating, Gloria Hunniford’s daughter, in April 2004. She had fought a brave battle against breast cancer. Gloria spoke of how her beautiful daughter believed in angels. Originally written with the Caron Keating Foundation in mind, I offer this poem to all those whose loved ones have lost their fight for life.
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Living Without You Let there be purpose in this suffering Or else our crazy world has gone all wrong And pray that death is not an end but a beginning Now one so beautiful and loved has quietly gone. Let us draw strength from helping one another And through compassion may our grief commence to heal May we have courage as we step towards the future And not be overwhelmed by pain that we still feel. Let us remember happy times we spent together And in that memory see gentleness and love And know for every smile and act of kindness An angel looks down sweetly from above.
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The Nation’s Trees Our world was so utterly devastated by the terrible earthquake tragedy that hit Asia on Boxing Day 2004. A disaster that will affect the lives of many thousands of men, women and children for many years to come – long after it has disappeared from the media’s attention. Sitting next to our Christmas tree, I wrote this poem to give voice to the nation’s feelings.
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The Nation's Trees Only last week I sparkled and shone My lights now much dimmer The presents all gone. My gold-baubled branches In drooped sympathy Tell of the helplessness When you're a tree.
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Until We Meet Again Saying farewell to people we love is never easy, however prepared we may try to be. This poem was written for a friend whose daughter and four month old baby grandson were returning to South Africa after spending Christmas with her in England. It was the first time they had been separated since the baby’s birth.
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Until We Meet Again
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Final Visit It is not just people that it is difficult to say goodbye to. Places can be held very dear and are often steeped in memories. Visiting my mother’s home for the last time after the property had been sold brought back so many memories for me. I sat on the floor of what was now an empty lounge and, as all my feelings poured out, wrote this poem.
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Living Poetry Final Visit I’ve come to say goodbye to this Your home for twenty years and three The place you made your own, you loved, Your widow’s sanctuary. The rooms quite empty now, devoid Of all but memories of you Awaiting patiently their fate From incomers anew. The garden where you sat with friends Where I would join and share your tea In cups from childhood days, and you So happy to see me. The dining room where I had slept In harder times on fold-up bed A Christmas spent just you and me Some months before I wed. The lounge where photographs had once Adorned your walls with smiling face Of loved ones young and old alike Now vanished without trace. The bedroom where you looked so sad You often didn’t want to rise To struggle through a day with fear And anguish in your eyes. Beloved grandchildren who called Clutching home-made cards and flowers Would brighten up your day and help To while away long hours. I’m here today by chance, unplanned, But happy as I now know why These memories of mine are you I’ve come to say goodbye.
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Christ Church, Lausanne In July 2004, we spent a wonderful family holiday touring Switzerland by train. I spent some of our last morning in that most beautiful country sitting in the garden of the English Church in Lausanne. Still full of its atmosphere, I wrote this poem a few hours later
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Christ Church, Lausanne As I sit within this garden With the sun upon my face I’m grateful for the solitude That fills my heart with grace. I hear the church bells calling The rustling of the leaves The gentlest of bird song As I feel the summer breeze. This beauty makes me wonder How much longer it will be For mankind to awaken That sighted men may see.
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Sanctified My two youngest daughters love to dance and have been fortunate to have dance built in to their school curriculum. This next poem was based on a ‘site’ dance, which the students performed in different parts of a chapel, the audience moving freely to follow the dancers as they transferred from pew, to aisle, to choir stall.
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Living Poetry Sanctified A site reserved for times more holy Figures rise and move quite slowly Escaping from their quiet places Removing veils, revealing faces. In unison they stand to pray As if to wash their sins away Then peeping round with short, sharp looks They form a canon with hymn books. They seem so distant, not quite real, Aware by sense but not by feel And as they leave the choir stall We wonder, are they there at all? In harmony they offer more As bodies melt in to the floor A symbol of the history Within this air of mystery. Relationships explored in dance Sweet floating petals do enhance Young silhouettes that gently pass Intensified beneath stained glass. We hear the Gloria resound As graceful bodies move around A lifted form is turned, then falls, All deep inside these Chapel walls. 43
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Jigsaw Visualising a picture can be a helpful way to understand something. I see each one of us having a unique role to play in life which only we can fill and like a jigsaw, when we find our place we help others to find their places too.
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Jigsaw Life is like a jigsaw With the universe its theme And each of us an equal piece Makes up this wondrous scene. Not only do we have our place Where soul and body meet In truth we must take up this space Or the jigsaw’s not complete.
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My Inspiration Woke Me Up I am frequently asked where inspiration comes from. I believe it is a gift from God that we must be prepared to act on, turn up and be willing.
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My Inspiration Woke Me Up My inspiration woke me up And got me out of bed These absolutely crazy thoughts Were rushing round my head. I knew I’d have to run with it And not put off the day For inspiration’s here and now Ignored it goes away.
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Value Yourself When we value ourselves our gifts come alive, we achieve a sense of fulfilment and we can make a real contribution to others. Try to make everyone you come in to contact with feel valued.
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Value Yourself Value yourself And the gift which is you Do not underestimate All that you do. Appreciate others Value them too For the gifts that they hold Reflect within you.
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Wake Up To Dream Your dream is your passion and is a very good indicator of where your true happiness lies. It is where your energy and enthusiasm are at their highest and it is achievable. So often in life it is not that we ask for too much but we settle for too little.
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Wake up to Dream Wake up to dream Dreams are not owned by sleep. Dare to dream Dreamers achieve what they seek. Build your dream With steps that will reach high above. Live your dream And fill it with joy and with love.
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Let Love Pour Out When we learn to love ourselves we are truly able to love others. As we give love, so it comes back to us ten times over. Aim to give more love than you receive. By the way, it’s impossible!
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Let Love Pour Out Let love pour out from the depths of my heart Like a stream that flows to the sea As a channel whose waters can never run dry For a greater love nourishes me.
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Sanctuary Nourish yourself with whatever brings you joy or contentment. Pay attention to your thoughts. Focus on all that is beautiful and surround yourself with loving people. Live in a place of gratitude.
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Sanctuary I step inside the twilight zone It’s never far away A place between the dreams of night And pressures of the day. I go where no one follows There’s only space for me My temple from the world outside Where calm and peace are free.
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Living Poetry - Conclusion I hope this collection of poems has left you feeling uplifted and that in some way my words have spoken to you. We all find something different in a poem, there are no ceilings or walls to contain them , so take from them whatever is good for you.
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About the author: Having originally written during her teens and twenties, Sharon Miller returned to writing with the arrival of the new millennium. Drawing on her experience as a carer, and mother and step-mother to four daughters, Sharon’s poems are full of compassion and human understanding. Sharon is happily married to Roger and their family home is in West Sussex.
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