[p-zero]

What Will Matter

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won't matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived, at the end.

It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.

Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident. It's not a matter of circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters. [font=Verdana]

So what are you trying to say?
-P.

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Yes, it is one of the few sites that one can put up pics direct.

[fleamailman]

Yes, it is one of the few sites that one can put up pics direct.

[frantique]

When I was in my early years of High School we studied a poetry book which contained poems from well known poets as well as unheard of poets and a few anonymous. Each poem had its own page.

My book opened automatically at the following one ... I must have read it and laughed a thousand times that year - also it is the only one out of the whole book I remember:

Fleas
Anonymous

Adam had 'em.

No disrespect intended to you Flea

Edited by frantique, 24 August 2006 - 05:43 PM.

[thenotch]

I disagree...
*SarahW will be buried in a big tomb with all her gold and treasure.

It depends on who you ask...

I bet if you ask *SarahW and myself what matters is if you have come to know Jesus as your personal savior.
He died for you, loves you and is the ONLY one who can give you "what matters"... and that is eternal life in Him.

Not being preachy, just stating what I believe "Will Matter".

Edited by thenotch, 24 August 2006 - 06:35 PM.

[warriorscot]

Try and avoid religous rhetoric others dont believe that and while most of us who arent of that inclination are intelligent and civilised some arent and will take offence or start an argument which is the reason why religion isnt allowed on the forums.

As to the question what matters at death, partial to not being eaten by animals attached to my eyes and dont like crows so someone to bury you and a coin for the ferryman just in case. Which is all is important at that point but you only get one crack at the whip and death is gloomy so all that matters is you live with honour and thats enough for me with a minimum of cryptic verse.

Gold and a giant tomb would be pretty nice though, if i make it big in the world and earn billions im SO building myself a bloomin great pyramid, you cant take it with you but in a thousand years time people will look and say "hey that guy knew how to go out in style".

[thenotch]

Try and avoid religous rhetoric others dont believe that and while most of us who arent of that inclination are intelligent and civilised some arent and will take offence or start an argument which is the reason why religion isnt allowed on the forums.

Ahh.. that is the crux though.. you tell me to not state what I believe but if your belief is something other than my Christian belief then it's ok. How can you have a balanced discussion that way? If this is a "serious" disucssion forum then by the fact that you tell me not to state what I believe as to be serious you place yourself in the position of offending me and those who believe as I do.

You cannot have a serious discussion and exclude one side of it. Period.

So if you are not prepared to acknolwedge others beliefs, regardless of whether you agree or not, then it apparent that the discussion is about as serious as a clown at the circus.

You don't have to agree with me, but when you post like you just did which was basically nothing more than telling me to acknowledge that everyone believes other things but that what I believe means nothing and that I need to agree with everyone elses belief and keep mine to myself... explain the fair and balance in that...

*thenotch off my soap box

[sarahw]

Everybody has there own views, and for this reason we do not talk about them. Some people have strong veiws, whatever they may be. If I choose to worship "Ra the sun god", that is my choice, others will strongly disagree, but that's my decision, so in the interest of preserving an intelligent (or sometimes not) conversation, we stay away from it. That way nobody is offended, and the thread stays open. For me this doesn't apply solely to the site, but in general.

*Sarahw apologises for not putting it in the form of a poem

Edited by sarahw, 24 August 2006 - 09:05 PM.

[warriorscot]

keep mine to myself

is the forum policy not mine i would be happy to discuss religion we did have it on the forum before it got on quite well actually until some random came across the thread and without even posting on sed thread complained and got it banned completely from the forum even though it was in the newly created discussion forum with a great big disclaimer telling people what was inside and look at it at your own risk.

While i may disagree with you i didnt say i didnt i just said religous rhetoric is a sure way to get topics closed, and yes it is ok for me to believe something other than you but im not going to say it here as i know it would cause offense to people who use the forum and thus i say nothing, i also can acknowledge that others have beleifs but as we cant share them on a forum like this we again return to my original point which was a reminder

Due to their volatile and sensitive nature, we will not allow discussions related to abortion, religion, politics, or sex.

Posts that don't meet these guidelines may be edited or deleted at the moderator's discretion.

because it doesnt take much to close a thread and some of us are enjoying the delightful prose. And now back to scheduled broadcasting another Rabbie burns poem this one about a favourite scottish love and past time.

Gie him strong drink until he wink,
	 That's sinking in despair;
	 An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,
	 That's prest wi' grief and care:
	 There let him bouse, an' deep carouse,
	 Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,
	 Till he forgets his loves or debts,
	 An' minds his griefs no more.

	 (Solomon's Proverbs, xxxi. 6, 7.)

	 Let other poets raise a fracas
	 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus,
	 An' crabbit names an'stories wrack us,
	 An' grate our lug:
	 I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
	 In glass or jug.

	 O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink!
	 Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink,
	 Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink,
	 In glorious faem,
	 Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink,
	 To sing thy name!

	 Let husky wheat the haughs adorn,
	 An' aits set up their awnie horn,
	 An' pease and beans, at e'en or morn,
	 Perfume the plain:
	 Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,
	 Thou king o' grain!

	 On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,
	 In souple scones, the wale o'food!
	 Or tumblin in the boiling flood
	 Wi' kail an' beef;
	 But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood,
	 There thou shines chief.

	 Food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin;
	 Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin,
	 When heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin;
	 But, oil'd by thee,
	 The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,
	 Wi' rattlin glee.

	 Thou clears the head o'doited Lear;
	 Thou cheers ahe heart o' drooping Care;
	 Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair,
	 At's weary toil;
	 Though even brightens dark Despair
	 Wi' gloomy smile.

	 Aft, clad in massy siller weed,
	 Wi' gentles thou erects thy head;
	 Yet, humbly kind in time o' need,
	 The poor man's wine;
	 His weep drap parritch, or his bread,
	 Thou kitchens fine.

	 Thou art the life o' public haunts;
	 But thee, what were our fairs and rants?
	 Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts,
	 By thee inspired,
	 When gaping they besiege the tents,
	 Are doubly fir'd.

	 That merry night we get the corn in,
	 O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in!
	 Or reekin on a New-year mornin
	 In cog or bicker,
	 An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in,
	 An' gusty sucker!

	 When Vulcan gies his bellows breath,
	 An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith,
	 O rare! to see thee fizz an freath
	 I' th' luggit caup!
	 Then Burnewin comes on like death
	 At every chap.

	 Nae mercy then, for airn or steel;
	 The brawnie, banie, ploughman chiel,
	 Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel,
	 The strong forehammer,
	 Till block an' studdie ring an reel,
	 Wi' dinsome clamour.

	 When skirling weanies see the light,
	 Though maks the gossips clatter bright,
	 How fumblin' cuiffs their dearies slight;
	 Wae worth the name!
	 Nae howdie gets a social night,
	 Or plack frae them.

	 When neibors anger at a plea,
	 An' just as wud as wud can be,
	 How easy can the barley brie
	 Cement the quarrel!
	 It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee,
	 To taste the barrel.

	 Alake! that e'er my muse has reason,
	 To wyte her countrymen wi' treason!
	 But mony daily weet their weason
	 Wi' liquors nice,
	 An' hardly, in a winter season,
	 E'er Spier her price.

	 Wae worth that brandy, burnin trash!
	 Fell source o' mony a pain an' brash!
	 Twins mony a poor, doylt, drucken hash,
	 O' half his days;
	 An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash
	 To her warst faes.

	 Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well!
	 Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,
	 Poor, plackless devils like mysel'!
	 It sets you ill,
	 Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,
	 Or foreign gill.

	 May gravels round his blather wrench,
	 An' gouts torment him, inch by inch,
	 What twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
	 O' sour disdain,
	 Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch
	 Wi' honest men!

	 O Whisky! soul o' plays and pranks!
	 Accept a bardie's gratfu' thanks!
	 When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
	 Are my poor verses!
	 Thou comes—they rattle in their ranks,
	 At ither's a-s!

	 Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!
	 Scotland lament frae coast to coast!
	 Now colic grips, an' barkin hoast
	 May kill us a';
	 For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast
	 Is ta'en awa?

	 Thae curst horse-leeches o' the' Excise,
	 Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!
	 Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
	 There, seize the blinkers!
	 An' bake them up in brunstane pies
	 For poor [bleep]'d drinkers.

	 Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
	 Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
	 An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
	 Tak a' the rest,
	 An' deal't about as thy blind skill
	 Directs thee best.

Edited by warriorscot, 25 August 2006 - 03:56 AM.

[fleamailman]

Burns is a great poet but I always forget the words when singing at New year, here is the last of my poems then, like the others the words are my own based on someone else's poem. Perhaps it reflects the original idea of imperminance, it is not meant as something against Microsoft itself.




Deadicated to those at the top.

Microsoftious

I met a brocker of the Wallstreet brand
Who said: Two vast and worthless piles of stock
Lie crashed upon the ground. About them, near to hand,
Now shrunk, these tattered credits lies, that shock,
Of bloated slips whose sure and bold command,
Tell that their author well those passions read,
Which yet survive, scribbled on these worthless things,
The hand that believed them, and the heart that bled,
And upon their cardboard box these words appear:
"My name is Microsoftious, Share of Shares:
Look upon my works, ye wealthy, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of this colossal crash, boundless and bare
The blown and leveled brands stretch far away.

Edited by fleamailman, 25 August 2006 - 04:35 AM.

[warriorscot]

Lol, i like that one, i forget the words of bruns to sometimes not a new years but since we have a burns night as a holiday here and its traditional to recite burns poetry its more chance to forget, ive never got all the way through tam o shanter and tae a haggis i will someday, when i was still at school i was lucky enough to get Tae a moose to recite which is a little easier for its popularity. And it is infact my favourite poem and ill share it will probably be my last i cant keep in qouting huge swathes of burns, but hes the only poet i like and again it is the best poem in the world.

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell—
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

[MsSmilie]

OMG! What have you done to this thread? You've splattered poetry all over it!!!!

"Of course, you realize.....this means war" ........Bugs Bunny


Roses are red
Violets are blue
Most poems rhyme
But this one doesn't.


---------------------------------------------------

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.

---------------------------------------------------

The only problem
with Haiku is that you just
get started and then

---------------------------------------------------

Winter is here with his grouch,
The time when you sneeze and slouch.
You can't take your women
Canoein' or swimmin',
But a lot can be done on a couch.

----------------------------------------------------

To quote, or not to quote;
That is the question.
Whether 'tis cluefuller on the Net to re-post
The tos and fros of diverse opinions,
Or to take arms against such attributions,
And, by excision, end them.

To trim, to snip:

No more, and by a snip to say we end
The widows and the thousand orphaned words
That posts are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.

To trim, to snip.

To snip, perchance too much. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that joyous chop the sense we lose
When we have taken out the fluff and dross
Must give us pause.

There's the factor

That makes calamity of so long threads.
For who would bear the tos and fros of chat,
Th' cascader's screed, the geek's anality,
The pain of misplacéd tags, the reeking trolls,
The cliquiness of in-jokes, and the flames
That studied satire draws from clueless fools,
When he himself might his quietus make

With a mere bobbit?

Who would cudgel brains
To write a piece, witty and thoughtful too,
But that the hope of making people laugh,
That blesséd gift of humour from whose touch
No traveller is safe, spurs on the soul,
And makes us rather bear those ills we read
Than carve them up,and mayhap lose the joke?


Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And Usenet posters of great sense and content
In this confusion quote more than they should,
And lose the name of Clueful.

Read you, now,

The fair Emilia! Nymph, in thy reminders
Be all my posts remembered.

Edited by MsSmilie, 26 August 2006 - 03:18 PM.

[fleamailman]

Fair game, but I only post my own stuff.
Deadicated to honesty.


My childhood

A poem to a ghost
a memory nothing more
a boy upon the coast
a wind upon the shore
a promise upon that gust
as if the two of us
could swap (what we saw)

-------

Ex-girlfriend

If I had known what I know now
I would not have asked
Nor grown somehow
Into that person in your passed
Who remembers you still.

If I had better hidden what I hide today
I would not have shown you
Nor given away
The me that remains out of view
That l have to kill.

If I could hate you like I hated then
I would not have come today
Nor dashed again
These passions lovers pay
when all comes to nill.

----------------
To grandma, and the beach in felixstowe about my mother's decline

Grandma you're so late and many years in passing
But the sea and sand's still here and all those people barsking.
I suppose there's nothing yesteryear about this boysterous sea
Just you had to go on from here and leave our beach to me.
Yet today a Winter's tide that breaks upon this shore
marks your daughter's slide to where we were before.
To weather to the last I sware while she goes on ahead
A promise to one past it seems toward a future dead.

Edited by fleamailman, 26 August 2006 - 05:00 PM.

[MsSmilie]

You win!

[fleamailman]

Thanks, I wrote the Ex-girlfriend one this evening before I saw your post. And although I said I wouldn't post more I couldn't resist, sorry.