Poetry By Beatrice Boyle

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying,
�I am the light of the world.
Whoever follows me will not walk in
darkness, but will have the light of life.�
{John 6:12}

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Old Age Is A Blessing

Do not pass me by
As I falter on my way
And need a helping hand
If my gait tends to sway
Do not mock my wrinkles
Or the whitening of my hair
For one day you too will age
Oh yes�you will soon be there!

Old age is a blessing my dear
Each year a triumph for you
It means you have survived life
At least from my point of view
No matter what fate may have dealt you
No matter the cards you have drawn
Storms may have battered and raged
But you�ve finally seen the dawn!

Others may not be so lucky
Illness may assail
Or fate will decide your future
And death will prevail
Old age is indeed a blessing
Courage and faith is the key
So respect and honor your elders
Ignore the fa�ade that you see
Remember that you too will be old
But then�there is no guarantee!

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2011



Footprints

Our time on earth is limited
We live, we age, we die
Precious time is flowing
The years are rushing by
As we look back in retrospect
On how we�ve lived those years
Did we triumph through adversity
Smiling through our tears
Or give in to despair
Surrendering to our fears?

Did we waste our time in bigotry
Did we shun our fellow man
Because he looked �different�
And not our countryman
Did we raise our children wisely
Showering them with love
Did we teach the 10 commandments
Given from above?

Did we reach out to our neighbor
When he was in distress
We didn�t really like him
But did we try nonetheless?
Did we share our blessings
With loved ones and our friends
What will be our legacy
When our life finally ends?

The sands of time are flowing
We cannot stem the tide
We all leave our footprints
After we have died
Will yours be unworthy
A life of selfish pride
Or leave a legacy of love
Only you can decide!

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2011

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On The Cross At Calvary

Beneath the cross at Calvary
Her body stiffening with each blow
Mary longed to cradle her son
Oh how she loved him so!
No mother should be forced to see
Her child suffer thus
She knew it had been preordained
His suffering was for us
From the moment of his birth
Mary knew how it would end
Yet the suffering he endured
She could not comprehend

She longed to wipe the blood that flowed
Where soldiers pierced his side
And hearing his cries to Heaven
Mary prayed and softly cried
All around her, soldiers laughed
And cast lots for his cloak
Then suddenly, the sky was dark
As Jesus softly spoke
�Father forgive them
For they know not what they do�
And as Mary hung her head in grief
Jesus died for you.

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2004

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Fallen Heroes

Shoulders stooped�eyes downcast
Just a remnant of his past
One day there were medals pinned
Standing straight and disciplined
Before his peers and singled out
A Hero they said, without a doubt!
Now he stands�frail and stooped
Head bent down, shoulders drooped

Not wanting to remember where he's been
Trying to blot out all he's seen
What price glory�what price fame
No one even remembers his name
Where is the hero of yesterday
Is this the price that he must pay?
Where is our gratitude�where is the thanks
For risking his life in planes and tanks

Even animals take care of their young
Now he lives, forgotten�unsung
Walking the streets, hungry�forlorn
Wishing he had never been born!
Where is the hero of yesterday
Is this the price that he must pay?
For shame America�land of the free
He risked his life for you and meMBR>
How quickly we are wont to say
Whenever we see him to our dismay
�Just another vagrant today�
And avert our eyes and go on our way!�
Where is the hero of yesterday
Is this the price that he must pay?

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2011

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The Final Journey

Come follow me, my love
And we'll walk hand in hand
As the hourglass of time
Measures the swiftly flowing sand

I see you standing there
So handsome, young and bold
We vowed that when our youth was spent
Together we'd grow old

To honor and to cherish
We pledged from the heart
Keeping only to each other
We vowed right at the start

Now Forty years have flown, my love
Too swiftly they've rolled by
I treasure every moment
I'm not ready to say goodbye

But when our journey is over
And the lord says we must part
I'll carry the memory of your love
Deep within my heart

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2003

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The Potter�s Wheel

Children are like a bowl of clay
Ready to be molded into shape

. When working with clay,
We guide the Potter�s wheel,
This way and that
Meticulously studying the form
It is taking as we scrape,
Adding a bit here, subtracting a bit there
Until, after careful adjustments
Have been made,
We declare the project finished,
And place it on the shelf
To be admired as our best handiwork

. But unlike that bowl of clay
Which, if we are displeased with the results,
We can destroy without a second thought
And go on with something else,
We must live with,
And take responsibility for,
Our failure to mold our children
Into an acceptable pattern for life.
Therefore,
It is incumbent upon us, the Potter,
To plan our strategy carefully
Weighing each step of the way
Before putting the wheel in motion.
Only then, can we be reasonably certain
That our creation will have been successful,
And ready for world display.

Beatrice BoyleAbout Image2003

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May the Lord richly bless you!

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My Lord And I

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