The Night Has A Thousand Eyes

The night has a thousand eyes,
        And the day but one;
Yet the light of a bright world dies
        When day is done.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
        And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
        When love is done.
                - Francis William Bourdillon

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Posted on May 22nd, 2008 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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    - Amy Greenlee

    I clasp my heart
    My eyes run dry
    Now there’s nothing left to cry

    The pain is killing me so much now
    I never got to say good-bye

    I didn’t always want you
    I didn’t show my love
    But now you’re gone, I want you
    To bury me in love

    The glorious days you lived on earth
    God will be ever so proud
    And now I know you’ll be with him -
    You stood out from the crowd

    Goodbye Grandmom, I’ll miss you
    But keep watch over me
    And I, your little angel
    Forever in debt will be

    For Mary Greenlee - I love you forever!

    Used with Permission

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    Posted on January 19th, 2008 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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  • In Time of Sorrow…

    May you see God’s light on the path ahead
    When the road you walk is dark.
    May you always hear,
    Even in your hour of sorrow,
    The gentle singing of the lark.
    When times are hard may hardness
    Never turn your heart to stone,
    May you always remember
    when the shadows fall—
    You do not walk alone.

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    Posted on December 13th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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  • Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there… I do not sleep.
    I am the 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 waken in the morning’s hush,
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of gentle birds in circling flight…
    I am the soft star that shines at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry—
    I am not there… I did not die…

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    Posted on December 11th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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    Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free!
    I follow the plan God laid for me.
    I saw His face, I heard His call,
    I took His hand and left it all…
    I could not stay another day,
    To love, to laugh, to work or play;
    Tasks left undone must stay that way.
    And if my parting has left a void,
    Then fill it with remembered joy.
    A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss…
    Ah yes, these things I, too, shall miss.
    My life’s been full, I’ve savoured much:
    Good times, good friends, a loved-one’s touch.
    Perhaps my time seemed all too brief—
    Don’t shorten yours with undue grief.
    Be not burdened with tears of sorrow,
    Enjoy the sunshine of the morrow.

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    Posted on December 9th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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  • Roses For Rose

    Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose.
    And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.
    The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door.
    The card said, “Be my Valentine,” like all the years before.
    Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,
    “I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.”
    “My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.”
    She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.
    She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.
    Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.
    He always liked to do things early, way before the time.
    Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.
    She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase.
    Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.
    She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favorite chair.
    While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.
    A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate.
    With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.
    Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,
    The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.
    She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock.
    Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.
    The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain,
    Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?
    “I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago,”
    The owner said, “I knew you’d call, and you would want to know.”
    “The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance.”
    “Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance.”
    “There is a standing order, that I have on file down here,
    And he has paid, well in advance, you’ll get them every year.
    There also is another thing, that I think you should know,
    He wrote a special little card…he did this years ago.”
    “Then, should ever, I find out that he’s no longer here,
    That’s the card…that should be sent, to you the following year.”
    She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
    Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.
    Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.
    Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote…
    “Hello my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone,
    I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome.”
    “I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real.
    For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.
    The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.
    I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife.”
    “You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need.
    I know it’s only been a year, but please try not to grieve.
    I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.
    That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.”
    “When you get these roses, think of all the happiness,
    That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.
    I have always loved you and I know I always will.
    But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.”
    “Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days.
    I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.
    The roses will come every year, and they will only stop,
    When your door’s not answered, when the florist stops to knock.”
    “He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out.
    But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,
    To take the roses to the place, where I’ve instructed him,
    And place the roses where we are, together once again.”

    Written by: PoppyK1@aol.com

    Poppy’s poems are copyrighted by Fleeting Moments Publishing and may not be reproduced without permission. All copies of poems MUST include these credits.

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    Posted on October 14th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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    My friend John always has something to tell me. He knows so much that young men have to have older and more worldly wise men to tell them. For instance who to trust, how to care for others, and how to live life to the fullest.

    Recently, John lost his wife Janet. For eight years she fought against cancer, but in the end her sickness had the last word.

    One day John took out a folded piece of paper from his wallet. He had found it, so he told me, when he tidied up some drawers at home. It was a small love letter Janet had written. The note could look like a school girl’s scrawls about her dream guy. All that was missing was a drawing of a heart with the names John and Janet written in it. But the small letter was written by a woman who had had seven children; a woman who fought for her life and who probably only had a few months left to live.

    It was also a beautiful recipe for how to keep a marriage together.

    Janet’s description of her husband begins thus: “Loved me. Took care of me. Worried about me.”

    Even though John always had a ready answer, he never joked about cancer apparently. Sometimes he came home in the evening to find Janet in the middle of one of those depressions cancer patients so often get. In no time he got her into the car and drove her to her favorite restaurant.

    He showed consideration for her, and she knew it. You cannot hide something for someone who knows better.

    “Helped me when I was ill,” the next line reads. Perhaps Janet wrote this while the cancer was in one of the horrible and wonderful lulls. Where everything is — almost — as it used to be, before the sickness broke out, and where it doesn’t hurt to hope that everything is over, maybe forever.

    “Forgave me a lot.”

    “Stood by my side.”

    And a piece of good advice for everyone who looks on giving constructive criticism as a kind of sacred duty: “Always praising.”

    “Made sure I had everything I needed,” she goes on to write.

    After that she has turned over the paper and added: “Warmth. Humor. Kindness. Thoughtfulness.” And then she writes about the husband she has lived with and loved the most of her life: “Always there for me when I needed you.”

    The last words she wrote sum up all the others. I can see her for me when she adds thoughtfully: “Good friend.”

    I stand beside John now, and cannot even pretend to know how it feels to lose someone who is as close to me as Janet was to him. I need to hear what he has to say much more than he needs to talk.

    “John,” I ask. “How do you stick together with someone through 38 years — not to mention the sickness? How do I know if I can bear to stand by my wife’s side if she becomes sick one day?”

    “You can,” he says quietly. “If you love her enough, you can.”

    - Written by Bill Walls

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    Posted on September 29th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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    The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. “How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age.”

    Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. Someone said, “Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment.”

    Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. “I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home.”

    He looked at us and said, “I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish.”

    Frank’s voice dropped a bit. “When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!”

    He paused and then went on, “I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, ‘No, Dad.’

    It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face.

    I said, ‘Dad, I’m too old for a goodbye kiss. I’m too old for any kind of kiss.’

    My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You are a big boy….a man. I won’t kiss you anymore.’”

    Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. “It wasn’t long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats.”

    I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again. “Guys, you don’t know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek….to feel his rough old face….to smell the ocean on him….to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss.”

    -Bishop Thomas Charles Clary

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    Posted on September 21st, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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  • The Last Time

    If I knew it would be the last time
    That I’d see you fall asleep,
    I would tuck you in more tightly
    and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

    If I knew it would be the last time
    that I see you walk out the door,
    I would give you a hug and kiss
    and call you back for one more.

    If I knew it would be the last time
    I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,
    I would video tape each action and word,
    so I could play them back day after day.

    If I knew it would be the last time,
    I could spare an extra minute or two
    to stop and say “I love you,”
    instead of assuming you would KNOW I do

    If I knew it would be the last time
    I would be there to share your day,
    well I’m sure you’ll have so many more,
    so I can let just this one slip away.

    For surely there’s always tomorrow
    to make up for an oversight,
    and we always get a second chance
    to make everything right.

    There will always be another day
    to say our “I love you’s,”
    And certainly there’s another chance
    to say our “Anything I can do’s?”

    But just in case I might be wrong,
    and today is all I get,
    I’d like to say how much I love you
    and I hope we never forget.

    Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
    young or old alike,
    And today may be the last chance
    you get to hold your loved one tight

    So if you’re waiting for tomorrow,
    why not do it today?
    For if tomorrow never comes,
    you’ll surely regret the day,

    That you didn’t take that extra time
    for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
    and you were too busy to grant someone,
    what turned out to be their one last wish.

    So hold your loved ones close today,
    and whisper in their ear,
    Tell them how much you love them
    and that you’ll always hold them dear

    Take time to say “I’m sorry,” “Please forgive me,”
    “Thank you,” or “It’s okay.”
    And if tomorrow never comes,
    you’ll have no regrets about today.

    Author Unknown

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    Posted on August 20th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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  • How Many Chances???

    As I awoke half startled, face still screwed up in a frown.
    I lay there quietly, wondering what in the world had just gone down.
    I raised myself up slowly, cautious of what I might find.
    Could that have been the sound of Gabriels trumpet, the end of all mankind.
    It was so dark, there was no light to be found, and the air was so thick I was fighting to draw my breath.
    Maybe this was what it was like, was I experiencing death?
    Why that couldn’t be, gosh I felt fine when I went to bed.
    So what in the worlds going on, and why am I having such a pain in the back of my head.
    Well now I’m getting scared, and I’m here all alone.
    Lord what’s happened to my wife and family, if I could only find the phone.
    Lord I thought when you died that you were drawn to a light.
    Why is it so dark, then stark reality hit me, what if I wasn’t living right?
    So what can you do when it’s all said and done and there is no more chances?
    If you didn’t live for Jesus, then the devil gets his dues, he gets the rest of your dances.
    Well just how scary is that, scary enough at least I hope it was, for that’s the way it is.
    As long as you’re alive and breathing, Jesus gives us every chance, He wants to make you His!
    Then something else started happening, something is shaking me, shaking me hard.
    I’m seeing lights all around me, and I sit up and holler, oh thank You Father, Thank You Lord.
    My wife is the one doing the shaking, and she stood there asking honey what’s wrong with you?
    She said are you okay, you must have been dreaming, is there anything I can do?
    I said yes there is, you can pray for me and help me to lead a better life.
    And Lord as I say my prayers, may I ask a special blessing for my wife.
    She pulled me out of that dream you see that felt so very real.
    And now I’ve got this one more chance to show You how I feel.
    R.R.Bingham 75\2007

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    Posted on July 17th, 2007 by Chris | Permalink | Email This Post Email This Post | Print This Post Print This Post


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