Poems & Selections

Last Reques

Please don’t say that I gave up, say that I gave in.
Don’t say I lost the battle, For it was God’s battle to lose or win.
Please don’t say how good I was, but that I did my best.
Just say I tried to do what’s right, to give the most I could not less.
Please don’t give me wings or halos, That’s for God to do.
Please don’t give me more than I deserve, No extra, just my due.
Please don’t give flowers, or talk in hushed tones.
Don’t be concerned about me now, Know I’m well with God, I’ve made it home.
When you draw a picture of me, don’t draw me as a saint.
I did some good, I did some wrong, So use all of your paint.
Not just the light and bright tones, Use some gray and dark.
In fact, don’t put me down on canvas, paint me in your heart.
Don’t just remember the good times, but remember some bad,
For life is full of many things, Some happy and some sad.
But if you must do something, Then I have one last request:
Forgive me for the wrongs I’ve done, and with the love that’s left,
Thank God for my soul’s resting; Thank God for I’ve been blessed, Thank God for all who loved me; Praise God who loved me best!

Life is but a stopping place, A pause in what’s to be, A resting place along the road, to sweet eternity. We all have different journeys, Different paths along the way, We all were meant to learn some things, but never meant to stay… Our destination is a place Far greater than we know. For […]
By: Nat King Cole And now the purple dusk of twilight time Steals across the meadows of my heart High up in the sky the little stars climb Always reminding me that we’re apart You wander down the lane and far away Leaving me a song that will not die Love is now the stardust […]
My life is like a weaving between my God and me I do not choose the colors he works steadily Sometimes he weaves sorrow and I in foolish pride Forget he sees the upper and I the underside Not ’til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly Will God unroll the canvas […]
By Emily Dickinson She died, —this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.