Mike-Ireland.com Psychic Clairvoyant & Reiki Master




This poem was sent to me by Val Barker, A classmate of her daughter's Rachael passed away 1st Dec 2006 aged 10 yrs . Abbie was an only child and she passed with SUDEP ( sudden unexpected death in epilepsy ) Abbie's parent's set up a registered charity in her name  to raise money for research into epilepsy Abbie only had a mild form .

For more information please visit www.abbieslove.co.uk This is the poem and has been done as a song they need some one to help produce the cd to raise money for the charity and it is available to down load from the site


Don't You Cry For Me.?

I know you’re sad but please don't be Hey there don't you cry for me A special Angel only you can see So hey there don't you cry for me I left so suddenly that day But I’m the light that guides  you on your way I'm the light that you can see So hey there don’t you cry for me.

You’re love for me I know is strong You may feel the road is long You've traveled far since I've been gone So hey there don’t you cry for me Sharing thoughts and memories
Visit friend's and family And I’m as happy as can be
So hey there don't you cry for me.

Look back remember the fun we had Look back try not to be sad I'm singing now that I am free Hey there don't you cry for me, A gentle breeze a little tug Sometimes a little hug All around is where I’ll be So hey there don't you cry for me .

I left so suddenly that day I'll always guide you on your way
Cause I’m  the light that you can see So hey there don't you cry for me Look back remember the fun we had Look back try not to be sad I'm singing now that I am free Hey there don't you cry for me






When an elderly lady died in the geriatric ward of a small
Hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had
Nothing left of any value Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff
that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to
Ireland. The lady's sole bequest to Posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, But eloquent, poem. And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing Left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" Poem...winging across the Internet. Goes to show that we all leave "some footprints in time."


An Old Lady's Poem

What do you see, nurses, what do you see? What are you thinking When you're looking at me? A crabby old woman, Not very wise, Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes? Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!"


Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a Stocking or shoe... Who, resisting or not, Lets you do as you will, with bathing and Feeding, the long day to fill... Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse: You're not looking at me.


I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I do at your bidding, As I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten... With a father and mother, Brothers and sisters, who love one another? A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet. A bride soon at twenty... My heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.


At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide, and a secure happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, Bound to each other with Ties that should last. At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone, but my husband's beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty once more, Babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead; I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing Young of their own, and I think of the years and the love that I've known. I'm now an old woman... And nature is cruel; 'Tis jest to make old age Look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, Grace and vigor depart, and there is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys,
I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living Life over again.

I think of the years... All too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, Nurses, open and see,
not a crabby old woman; look closer...sees ME!!


Remember this poem the next time you meet an elderly person.
Look at the young soul within. We will one day be there, too
! unknown poet.






I Cried


                Time and time and time again I analyze my life my thoughts and memories,

each event in detail so precise The way that people come and go, looking back to smile I feel as thou my heart and soul have walked a thousand miles.


I live my life, day by day, next weeks so far away I cannot really guarantee if I am here to stay my faults scream out to no one else, yet stare me in the face for every tear that falls and dries is a memory put to waste.


At work I smile and joke with friends, but that's not really me the anguish of the broken child is fighting to be free to tell the tales,

 to pass the blame, inflicted over time but I can't  share my inner thoughts with the world outside of mine.

I sit and read, a vacant page in search of what comes next


 I have turned a thousand pages whilst my minds talked over text I cannot stop the process now, she's buried deep inside I want to scream and punch and kick but once again I cried 




Peace at last

Going home, going home,
I'm a-going home,
Quite like, some still day,
I'm just going home.

It's not far, just close by,
Through an open door,
Work all done, care laid by,
Going to fear no more,

Granddad's there expecting me,
Grandma's waiting too.
Lots of folk are gathered there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew,

Morning star lights the way,
Restless dreams all done,
Shadows gone, break of day,
Real life just begun.

There's no break, there's no end,
Just a living on, Wide awake, with a smile,
Going on and on.

Going home, going home,
I'm just going home,
It's not far, just close by,
Through an open door,
I'm just going home.


1964 - 1999 .

All rights reserved © Mike 2008 copyright





The Land Where Souls Play


An awakening to dawn mist on the water,
flowing Spirit's streams to God's alter,
purifying essence whistles through the trees,
images of the sacred blowing in the breeze.

Flights of fancy from birds up high,
feathers of many colors filtering through the sky,
sun, moon and stars envelops Earth's dome,
we're all birds of a feather, finding our way home.

Spectacle of mesmerizing movements flashing in the mind,
melting pots of humans, secrets hard to find,
love all embracing whispers on the wind,
no physical presence, ecstasy from a light dimmed.

Gifts of joy enmeshed in music and dance,
visualizing images filtering in a trance,
warriors in a drumbeat at journeys end,
back to the womb of creation enmeshed in a substance blend.

Wondrous dreams in the stillness of the dark,
journey on uplifting voyages in paradise park,
thunder and lightening points the way,
a prelude to the land where Soul's play. 

copyright By Michael Levy







An angel wrote

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.

To handle yourself, use your head. To handle others, use your heart.

Anger is only one letter short of danger.


Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people.

God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest.


He who loses money, loses much. He who loses a friend, loses more. He who loses faith, loses all.

Beautiful young people are acts of nature. But beautiful old people are works of art.


Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself.

The tongue weighs practically nothing. But so few people can hold it.


Friends, you and me....you brought another friend...and then there were 3...we started our group...Our circle of friends...and like that circle...there is no beginning or end






Treasures of the Universe

Life is an adventure with Earth as a playground,
everywhere we look, treasures can be found,
a ruby in a rose, diamonds glistening in a lake,
minds filled with beauty in dreams or awake.

Spiritual beings in human form,
pearls in eyes, seeing tranquility and calm,
floating on emerald seas, golden oceans so vast,
silver vapors in the clouds, platinum breezes as the mast.

Every rock holds beauty in its vein,
every leaf a different color, no shape the same,
flowing shrubs bursting with a glowing love,
God sets the scene, everything is a hand in his glove.

All joined together one poem in a universe,
every breath of air, is worth a kings purse,
jewels of joy, bliss from pole to pole,
magnificent enchantment, in our universe-soul. 

copyright By Michael Levy






The Uncompleted Tapestry


After a bereavement ,when the last word has been spoken ,the tapestry is laid aside, the thread of life is broken ,the growing pattern that evolved out of the worse and best-- can never be completed now.


Unfinished it must rest...The hand that held the needle can no longer draw the strand, but somewhere on the other side a new design is planned. And you, now left alone ,must take the skein of mingled hues, the crimsons and the violets the scarlet and the blues-- And start to work upon the uncompleted tapestry---


Not the same but different and lovely it could be-- With glowing tints of memory to give a bright relief-- Like threads of fire embroidered on the canvas of your grief.

Don't Quit


When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, when the road your trudging seems all up hill, when the funds are low and the debts are high, and you want to smile, but you have to sigh, when care is pressing you down a bit, rest if you must-- but don't you quit.


Life is queer with its twists and turns, as everyone of us sometimes learns, and many a failure turns about when he might have won had he stuck it out; don't give up, though the pace seems slow-- you might succeed with another blow.


Often the goal is nearer than it seems to a faint and faltering man, Often the struggler has given up, when he might have captured the victors cup, And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, how close he was to the golden crown.


Success is failure turned inside out-- the silver tint of the clouds of doubt-- and you never can tell how close you are, it may be near when it seems afar; So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit-- It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit. 

 copyright  by Wendy Lister




Gods Lent Child


I will lend you for a little while a child of mine God said, for you to love there while he lives and mourn for when he is dead .It may be six or seven years or forty-- two or three. But will you, till I call him back take care of him for me?

He will bring his charms to gladden you and (should his stay be brief)-- you will have all your memories as a solace for your grief. I cannot promise he will stay since all from earth return. But there are lessons taught below I want this child to learn.


I have looked this whole world over in my search for teachers true, from the things that crowd life's lane I have chosen you. Now will you give him all your love nor think the labour vain, nor hate me when I come to take this lent child back again?


I fancied that I heard them say, DEAR GOD--Thy will be done, for all the joys Thy child will bring the risk of grief we'll run.


We will shelter him with tenderness. We'll love him while we may, and for the happiness we've known forever grateful stay. But should Thy angels call for him much sooner than we've planned, we'll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand."







The Rainbow Fairies


Two little clouds, one summers day went flying through the sky; They went so fast they bumped their heads, and both began to cry.


Old father sun looked out and said, Oh never mind my dears, I'll send my little fairy folk, to dry your falling tears,

One fairy came in violet and one wore indigo. In blue, green, yellow, orange, red, they made a pretty row.

They wiped the cloud tears all away, and then from out of the sky, upon a line the sunbeams made, they hung their gowns to dry.



Departure Lounge.


I wait in the lounge of departure, I know not the time of my flight, I hope it's way off in the future, but it could be I'm flying tonight.


The flight I await goes to heaven, I know it's lovely up there, for I've read their fine brochure-- the bible, and I speak to them oft in my prayer.


It costs very little to go there, you take nothing with you at all, and you pay by the way you behave every day, as you wait for St Peter to call.


As I wait for the start of my journey, there's so many things I can see, like someone in need of a word or a deed, so I do what's expected of me.


And I wait in the lounge of departure, never too sure when I fly, but I hope when I do , there's a chance I'll meet you, we can all pay the fare if we try.





Burial Prayer of the North American Indians


Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there I do not sleep. I am the thousand winds that blow, I am diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumnal rain.


When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the soft 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.



Peaceful Slumber in the forest of the mind


I Thought you may wish to share this Poem with the readers of your newspaper.

Listen! How sweet sings the breeze, merrily off trees, whispering wonderment, the ear quietly it does please, nurturing souls, drifting to Celestial splendor, beauty unfolds, as into peaceful slumber, coils surrender.


Castles in the sky, growing columns of inspired aspiration, silver shadows flowing through all generations, warm cocoons of mortality, linked by silken threads, webs of lives where comfort embeds.


Serenely rests the head of time, pillows puff by wisps of the sublime, mellow moments spark a fusion sphere, perfumed gardens alight, dancing nymphs are near.


Oh mindful forest flower, rivers many bridges cross, branches leaved with neurons, invisible flakes of frost, tender is the night, spirits lovingly caress, sleep well my children, aware God will bless.


Author poet Philosopher Copyright By Michael Levy




copyright © 2008 All rights reserved.

all rights reserved. this web site may not be reproduced in part or full, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the web site owner