A Poem for the Departed

One of the most famous poems of comfort and sadness, is "Do not stand at my grave and weep", a favourite at any funeral or remembrance service.

The poem was written by Mary Elizabeth Frye, and there are actually two versions:

Version one:

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a 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 awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Version 2:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Bike Ride with Older Boys

Bike Ride with Older Boys


a poem about growing up

Bike Ride with Older Boys

The one I didn't go on.
I was thirteen,
and they were older.
I'd met them at the public pool. I must
have given them my number. I'm sure
I'd given them my number,
knowing the girl I was. . .

It was summer. My afternoons
were made of time and vinyl.
My mother worked,
but I had a bike. They wanted
to go for a ride.
Just me and them. I said
okay fine, I'd
meet them at the Stop-n-Go
at four o'clock.
And then I didn't show.
I have been given a little gift—
something sweet
and inexpensive, something
I never worked or asked or said
thank you for, most
days not aware
of what I have been given, or what I missed—
because it's that, too, isn't it?
I never saw those boys again.
I'm not as dumb
as they think I am
but neither am I wise. Perhaps
it is the best
afternoon of my life. Two
cute and older boys
pedaling beside me—respectful, awed. When we
turn down my street, the other girls see me ...
Everything as I imagined it would be.
Or, I am in a vacant field. When I
stand up again, there are bits of glass and gravel
ground into my knees.
I will never love myself again.
Who knew then
that someday I would be
thirty-seven, wiping
crumbs off the kitchen table with a sponge, remembering
them, thinking
of this—
those boys still waiting
outside the Stop-n-Go, smoking
cigarettes, growing older.

Laura Kasischke
(from Dance and Disappear, 2002
University of Massachusetts Press, Amherst, MA)

Online Poetry - help with Rhymes

Are you trying to write a poem but are stuck for words? Do you need to find something that rhymes with "MP3" or "ugly"? Then you came to the right address, because here below you will find a treasure trove filled with useful websites, easy tools and ready-made rhymes.

There is also a link to Wikipedia where you can find lots of info about ancient Chinese Rime books or Rhyme dictionaries.

Here is a list of tools and websites

- Rhyme Zone : type in any word and it will give you a large selection of words that rhyme, nicely order per number of syllables.

- Write Express

- Wikipedia about Chinese Rime books