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Bespoke Poetry

Whilst there is a wealth of poems and readings that are readily available - some families like the added personal touch of one of my bespoke poems.

Each piece is as unique as the person that I am writing about and is shaped around them, I have placed just a few below and they are published with the kind permission of the families that I crafted them for...

 
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Kelly’s Poem

 

There are things that happen in life

for which we cannot change.

No amount of money, no amount of tears

can affect or rearrange.

 

At times like this it is easy to think

of all that was left to be said,

when you wake at night and countless thoughts

are running through your head.

 

Did they know how much I loved them?

How proud they made me feel?

Is all this just a terrible dream?

Are the thoughts I’m having real?

 

What you are experiencing is a four letter word,

that word is ‘L’ ‘O’ ‘V’ ‘E’

For a heart to be broken it must have been filled

and for all it’s plain to see.

 

That yours have been filled with happy times

and fondness for who has gone.

A person for whom your light of love

undoubtedly really shone.

 

So if at night you get those thoughts

and the ‘what if’s’ come back again.

Remember all the happy times

all the memories made with them.

 

Turn tears of loss into tears of laughter

there is no shame in this.

Of course there are so many things

that you are sure to miss.

 

But keep the memory of Kelly alive

by doing what she’d do.

Turn up the music, pour some wine

and stick on some PJ’s too!

 

Clifford

 

One of six to be raised by Buster and Gert,

And after many a day spent in the dirt,

The tin bath beckoned to rid the grime,

Though the dirt returned in next to no time!

 

To Cliff School was a chore and one he would detest,

There were other things to do with his time – Cliff knew best? 

 

Dances at the drill hall was where he’d unwind

With an eye for the ladies – Marlene he’d find.

They wed and went on to raise their two boys,

And watched them grow up with all of the joys,

 

He worked with his hands

- worn and weathered from years of toil and labour,

His trade was that of a brickkie

– building was his favour.

 

Taking time to unwind playing snooker or cards,

Its only right when you’ve worked so hard,

A holiday abroad with Marlene and the family,

Did he enjoy it – yes Definitely!

 

He sort of played golf – his boys would tease,

And nothing could keep him from his pint of Harveys!

 

Through decades countless bricks have passed through this mans hand,

His needs were simple, a fag, a trowel, some cement and some sand.

 

Working his craft creating homes for many to enjoy,

With care and dedication ever since he was a boy,

 

The trowel is now still, the mixer is silent no more building will he endeavour,

Yet his work will stand the test of time and his memory will last forever… 

Henrys Poem

 

Through glazed eyes you sit,

Doing your best to hold back tears

But feel no shame or awkwardness

It’s natural after all these years

 

Together we’ve laughed,

Together we’ve cried,

This isn’t any different,

And when your tears subside

 

Don’t feel alone because I’m not there

Draw strength from what we are,

Memories of us and all we were,

Are never really that far

 

I’ve lived a happy, purposeful life

Tried best at all I Do

But my time was only that good

Because it was shared with you

 

For I am Proud from where I’ve come,

No man could ask for more,

I am Henry Walter,

And I am ‘Sussex’ – to the core…