02-27-2013, 05:02 PM
Some 15 years ago I gave this to an elderly gentleman in Church (give him some respect he flew Lancaster’s in the last months of WWII). Anyway he loved it and at the time I didn't realise how bad it was, so we were both happy, sadly he has gone and suggested to the vicar that this might be nice for me to read this out on Mothering Sunday service (to about 500 + people), so it's booked and because he is so nice I feel I can't change the poem choice (I wrote it for him all those years ago).
So a little help needed to take out some of the real cringe factors.
Will need to keep the story the same. Feel free to get drunk, masturbate or get high whilst offering any suggestion...just please keep it out of the poem - they are nice people with children you know!
So a little help needed to take out some of the real cringe factors.
Will need to keep the story the same. Feel free to get drunk, masturbate or get high whilst offering any suggestion...just please keep it out of the poem - they are nice people with children you know!
DANDELIONS !
Observe the tender care and admiration
that a man out in his plot,
Lavishes upon his cultivations,
lest his tender charges throw in their lot.
Then view the humble Dandelion,
often as not from his plot ejected.
No well watered, mulched and crumbled spot.
Just one sight of his face and he is rejected.
Who looks out for his needs
or takes a care if he does not set seed?
He is marked and counted as a weed.
Yet despite this lack of nurturing,
he dose not wilt or fade.
His shining countenance is not cast down
When his lot falls in the shade.
His optimism and enthusiasm
is never crushed or confounded,
By adverse circumstances
or lack of given allowances.
Unloved, unwanted. Rejected, despised.
Persistent, persecution is directed at him.
His existence and presence his only sin.
(He hears another voice) “Loved. Beloved. Cherished. Desired.”
He will grow in virtually any place
… a dark deep drain, a dry cliff face.
His deep roots an anchor, seeking nourishment.
Tender shoots an offering, subject to punishment.
(Oh yes it is true, he can be slain
….but not with ease or without trouble.
Burnt off, pulled up, cut off. Unjustly poisoned.
But, leave just one trace and back comes double).
AND THEN…,
not content to skulk around and lick his wounds in hiding;
He sets his face to shine forth his creators’ grace
and goes about evangelising.
Nowhere is out of bounds for this happy shining light.
He turns his face to meet the grief in each new place,
Spurred on by discouragement, stirred by the sight
of each new day’s dawning glory and grace.
Thus found in his finest hour; well met,
in extending arms of love and encouragement,
on the wind of enthusiasm his life fruit is set.
No rest or laurels are his want to sit upon,
for his work is far from done.
For he is made of an enduring spirit
and although he sleeps with the setting sun,
he rises early to embrace each new day
and his shining countenance will not fade away.
Because the fruit of his life is displayed,
Far and wide and with glory arrayed.
Listen! The voice he hears is calling:-
“Come out from hiding – Arise and shine.
Come my darling my beautiful one.
SHINE ! For I am yours and you are mine”.
Observe the tender care and admiration
that a man out in his plot,
Lavishes upon his cultivations,
lest his tender charges throw in their lot.
Then view the humble Dandelion,
often as not from his plot ejected.
No well watered, mulched and crumbled spot.
Just one sight of his face and he is rejected.
Who looks out for his needs
or takes a care if he does not set seed?
He is marked and counted as a weed.
Yet despite this lack of nurturing,
he dose not wilt or fade.
His shining countenance is not cast down
When his lot falls in the shade.
His optimism and enthusiasm
is never crushed or confounded,
By adverse circumstances
or lack of given allowances.
Unloved, unwanted. Rejected, despised.
Persistent, persecution is directed at him.
His existence and presence his only sin.
(He hears another voice) “Loved. Beloved. Cherished. Desired.”
He will grow in virtually any place
… a dark deep drain, a dry cliff face.
His deep roots an anchor, seeking nourishment.
Tender shoots an offering, subject to punishment.
(Oh yes it is true, he can be slain
….but not with ease or without trouble.
Burnt off, pulled up, cut off. Unjustly poisoned.
But, leave just one trace and back comes double).
AND THEN…,
not content to skulk around and lick his wounds in hiding;
He sets his face to shine forth his creators’ grace
and goes about evangelising.
Nowhere is out of bounds for this happy shining light.
He turns his face to meet the grief in each new place,
Spurred on by discouragement, stirred by the sight
of each new day’s dawning glory and grace.
Thus found in his finest hour; well met,
in extending arms of love and encouragement,
on the wind of enthusiasm his life fruit is set.
No rest or laurels are his want to sit upon,
for his work is far from done.
For he is made of an enduring spirit
and although he sleeps with the setting sun,
he rises early to embrace each new day
and his shining countenance will not fade away.
Because the fruit of his life is displayed,
Far and wide and with glory arrayed.
Listen! The voice he hears is calling:-
“Come out from hiding – Arise and shine.
Come my darling my beautiful one.
SHINE ! For I am yours and you are mine”.
all in all it looks like it will read okay. you'll obvilously set the tempo how you wish it to be and that will play the largest part of his presentation.