POEMS
BY BOB BLANSHAN
BY BOB BLANSHAN
| For Jerri Williamson (“Please read at memorial service – I am sorry I cannot be there today” - Bob) I have known Sister Williamson probably as long as anyone here except Lois. She loved to teach and will be remembered by many for that including handicapped students. Many times she kept the home fires burning while Dale was out conducting meetings and I am sure as the Proverb writer said, her children will rise up and call her blessed. The last years have been difficult and she has been a tired lady. So I am glad she is now at rest and can look forward to an eternity of peace and happiness. In Memory of Myrtle Hamilton (“Mother of Mrs. Ron Maloney (Madelia) ”) Mother was a gardener She loved to plant the seed Then watch it germinate and grow Assaulting every weed Things tasted oh, so good When she took them from the soil And prepared them for the table It took a lot of toil For a rest from caring for her family She would work among her flowers And exclaim “Aren’t they so pretty now” Perhaps enjoy them by the hour The plants would grow and bud And produce food and prettiness Mom appreciated all these things That God had given to bless But like the plants she used to tend That soon grew old and died She too, too soon, has withered with the years We had to say “Goodbye” If where she is, a garden grows She will be busy there Happily among the flowers With no more toil and care God, we thank You for this one Who mothered us down here And ask you treat her tenderly This mother we hold dear In Loving Memory of Ronald Maloney Memories are all you have left today But in memories you’re very blessed that way For they’re of a husband and father and friend You could love, be proud of, and depend Memories of good times through the years Drawn closer together at times by some tears You knew some day he’d have to leave So cleanse your hearts, but the tears you grieve Don’t be bitter, because he’s gone Be thankful you’ve had him, for so long As a man among men Ron stood tall Made his country proud the way he answered it’s call As a husband beloved by his wife to the end More than a husband, also her friend As a father the children’s tears will tell you In this he did a good job too As a friend many will be proud to say He was my friend, and we’ll remember him that way Note to the family: “Many people cannot look back with the good memories and pride that you can have in your husband, father, and grandfather. I have been blessed to have known Ron. My heart goes out to you and my prayers go to God for you. Your friend, Bob Blanshan” Ruth They don’t need that old house longer For a new one stands nearby With a new face carrying on For Ruth whose gone on high Yes, the circle has been broken There are now two empty chairs And there’ll be more as others Begin to climb those Golden Stairs Then again they’ll be together They’ll help make heaven ring Petersen house reunited Will lift their voice and sing Daddy will sing base Someone will sing tenor The rest of the family will join right in there In the sky, Lord, in the sky Krista (“Funeral for 19 month old Krista Magoon, January 22, 1989, Bemidji Church of Christ building”) A little child shall lead them The Bible says it’s so But just exactly what God meant We really didn’t know But now we are learning And though the lesson’s sore God has laid up for us a treasure And our steps turn there the more Through tear-filled eyes it’s hard to see But we’ll try to understand Though empty arms and breaking heart Are not the things we planned Everyone loves a little child Their antics and their glee And I can hear God asking you “Can I take her home with Me?” “I love her and she’ll be safe From the world’s corroding care And she’ll be waiting here for you When you climb those golden stairs. Today your heart is breaking, But trust Me and you’ll see Reunion time is coming, Then together eternally.” The Graduate – Brenda Blanshan (“For Brenda’s graduation”) There they came in robes and hat Some were thin and others fat They were leaving those hallowed walls Where they had learned since they were small “I made – I MADE IT!” Brenda began to shout As if the issue was ever in doubt But a sigh of relief was given by all And silence – deep silence – in classroom and hall For the talker – the talker – Brenda by name Was gone and school would never be the same From Pi aren’t square – Pi are round To buenas noches – Spanish the sound Physics made her toe the line But like all else was conquered in time So came the time as sure as fate And there was Brenda – the graduate |
I Knew George
(“written for and read at George Cunningham's funeral”)
I knew George as a man who loved the earth,
Who loved to watch things grow,
I knew George as a man who cared for things
Of true worth, who loved all men and wanted them to
know
I knew George as a faithful friend, a friend in time of
need,
A friend who helped a man along, a friend indeed.
I still know George and though he’s gone ahead
He still knows me; he lives, he is not dead
And though this mortal clay,
Its purpose fulfilled is laid aside
His spirit free has crossed the unknown tide,
To meet his God and wait our passing on that way
Yes, I knew George and know him yet today.
Jack Stewart
(“For the funeral of Jack Stewart at Lakeland, Florida”)
Weep not for the Christian
When his time of faith is done
Why would you sorrow for him,
When his battle’s fought and won
No more testing, no more flinching
When his body’s racked with pain
Weep not for the Christian
When he’s gone to reap his gain
Weep for yourselves, for yours is the loss
But only for a while
Reunion day is coming
When our tears will change to smile
So for a time, it won’t be long
We’ll live with memory
Till we ourselves pass through the vale
And there our loved one see
No more will tears of parting
Ever dim the eyes
So wait for me; I’m coming
We’ll share God’s paradise
Mothers
(“On Mother’s Day, West Concord – Bemidji, 1969”)
They come in various sizes and shapes
And colors of hair styles so fine
They have three ages which they will confess
Young, or old, or 39
They are the neck that turns the head
The cog that turns the wheel
They’re comforter, nurse, and makers of bread
Versatility on high heels
They are as hens gathering their chicks
When a chicken hawk soars on high
They are as bears protecting their young
When danger is lurking nearby
Though the weaker sex they are often called
They can bend the mightiest man
To do their will, and they do it all
With a lift of the eye and a wave of the hand
So here’s to mothers, old and young
This is the day when their praises are sung
Makes no difference now which comes first the egg or
the chick
Without mother’s we would be in a terrible fix
Mothers
Songs of Mother of Yesteryear
Would often bring forth a tear
Memories brought back scenes of yore
Of her washing and ironing and scrubbing the floor
Working hard from morn till night
Without complaining “I look a sight!”
Rocking the cradle and singing lullaby
Till at last baby would close its eyes
Baking bread and sewing things
Busy with tasks that motherhood brings
And as I remember of those days of yore
I think they don’t make them like that any more
Mothers are still mothers
But different it’s true
This can be seen in the things that they do
They don’t hoe in the garden, they go to the store
Baking bread and mending, don’t do much any more
Make do with what you have, not for a minute
As long as there’s a purse with a credit card in it
Nurse a sick child, call the pediatrician
More time with T.V. than in the kitchen
Stay home with the children, you’ve got to be kidding
Not as long as someone will do the babysitting
Today’s mother has to be chauffeurs it seems
Den mother and coach of a team
Helps with breadwinning and has a dream
Mother of old or Mother Today
They look forward to the time they can say
They are proud to be a mother but now want to be
another
And wait until the date a grandmother they became (??)
Mothers
Mothers are old – mothers are young
This is the day their praises are sung
Some of them are thin – some of them round
But generally this is where they’ll be found
In the kitchen before meals
Fixing ‘owies’ so they heal
At the washer – dish or clothes
Sewing-mending-wiping a little nose
Helping with schoolwork – singing a song
Busy here and there all the day long
Mixed in with motherhood – being a wife
Soothing her husband after his day filled with strife
Dressed in curlers, sneakers, and jeans
Or decked out in finery – looks like a queen
God took a rib and made a mother
And down through the centuries kept making another
Until He made ours and so we are here
To honor the mother we all hold so dear
So here’s to mothers living or gone
Without them life surely wouldn’t go on
For Wesley
(“For Wesley Answer’s wedding - Jamaica.”)
Free as a bird you were till this day
Then two hearts met and you gave freedom away
You exchanged freedom for love, a home and a spouse
And now together will learn to keep house
And maybe, who knows, what the years might do
They may bring to you a pickney or two
An extension of your lives to bless and bring joy
As you hold in your arm your girl or your boy
Perhaps there too will be sorrows to share
But you can lean on each other and on God Who cares
And through heartaches and tears God can bless
With a deeper love and a rich happiness
And so of freedom there is a lot to be said
But I would rather be married instead
(“written for and read at George Cunningham's funeral”)
I knew George as a man who loved the earth,
Who loved to watch things grow,
I knew George as a man who cared for things
Of true worth, who loved all men and wanted them to
know
I knew George as a faithful friend, a friend in time of
need,
A friend who helped a man along, a friend indeed.
I still know George and though he’s gone ahead
He still knows me; he lives, he is not dead
And though this mortal clay,
Its purpose fulfilled is laid aside
His spirit free has crossed the unknown tide,
To meet his God and wait our passing on that way
Yes, I knew George and know him yet today.
Jack Stewart
(“For the funeral of Jack Stewart at Lakeland, Florida”)
Weep not for the Christian
When his time of faith is done
Why would you sorrow for him,
When his battle’s fought and won
No more testing, no more flinching
When his body’s racked with pain
Weep not for the Christian
When he’s gone to reap his gain
Weep for yourselves, for yours is the loss
But only for a while
Reunion day is coming
When our tears will change to smile
So for a time, it won’t be long
We’ll live with memory
Till we ourselves pass through the vale
And there our loved one see
No more will tears of parting
Ever dim the eyes
So wait for me; I’m coming
We’ll share God’s paradise
Mothers
(“On Mother’s Day, West Concord – Bemidji, 1969”)
They come in various sizes and shapes
And colors of hair styles so fine
They have three ages which they will confess
Young, or old, or 39
They are the neck that turns the head
The cog that turns the wheel
They’re comforter, nurse, and makers of bread
Versatility on high heels
They are as hens gathering their chicks
When a chicken hawk soars on high
They are as bears protecting their young
When danger is lurking nearby
Though the weaker sex they are often called
They can bend the mightiest man
To do their will, and they do it all
With a lift of the eye and a wave of the hand
So here’s to mothers, old and young
This is the day when their praises are sung
Makes no difference now which comes first the egg or
the chick
Without mother’s we would be in a terrible fix
Mothers
Songs of Mother of Yesteryear
Would often bring forth a tear
Memories brought back scenes of yore
Of her washing and ironing and scrubbing the floor
Working hard from morn till night
Without complaining “I look a sight!”
Rocking the cradle and singing lullaby
Till at last baby would close its eyes
Baking bread and sewing things
Busy with tasks that motherhood brings
And as I remember of those days of yore
I think they don’t make them like that any more
Mothers are still mothers
But different it’s true
This can be seen in the things that they do
They don’t hoe in the garden, they go to the store
Baking bread and mending, don’t do much any more
Make do with what you have, not for a minute
As long as there’s a purse with a credit card in it
Nurse a sick child, call the pediatrician
More time with T.V. than in the kitchen
Stay home with the children, you’ve got to be kidding
Not as long as someone will do the babysitting
Today’s mother has to be chauffeurs it seems
Den mother and coach of a team
Helps with breadwinning and has a dream
Mother of old or Mother Today
They look forward to the time they can say
They are proud to be a mother but now want to be
another
And wait until the date a grandmother they became (??)
Mothers
Mothers are old – mothers are young
This is the day their praises are sung
Some of them are thin – some of them round
But generally this is where they’ll be found
In the kitchen before meals
Fixing ‘owies’ so they heal
At the washer – dish or clothes
Sewing-mending-wiping a little nose
Helping with schoolwork – singing a song
Busy here and there all the day long
Mixed in with motherhood – being a wife
Soothing her husband after his day filled with strife
Dressed in curlers, sneakers, and jeans
Or decked out in finery – looks like a queen
God took a rib and made a mother
And down through the centuries kept making another
Until He made ours and so we are here
To honor the mother we all hold so dear
So here’s to mothers living or gone
Without them life surely wouldn’t go on
For Wesley
(“For Wesley Answer’s wedding - Jamaica.”)
Free as a bird you were till this day
Then two hearts met and you gave freedom away
You exchanged freedom for love, a home and a spouse
And now together will learn to keep house
And maybe, who knows, what the years might do
They may bring to you a pickney or two
An extension of your lives to bless and bring joy
As you hold in your arm your girl or your boy
Perhaps there too will be sorrows to share
But you can lean on each other and on God Who cares
And through heartaches and tears God can bless
With a deeper love and a rich happiness
And so of freedom there is a lot to be said
But I would rather be married instead
Page 6 TRIBUTES TO INDIVIDUALS