I have collected a selection of poems and readings you may like to use during a ceremony, I hope you will find something suitable. I intend to add more regularly.

The Tree Of Life, Anon

The death of each of us is in the order of things; it follows 

life as surely as night follows day. We can take the tree of 

life as a symbol. The human race is the trunk and 

branches of this tree, and individual men and women are 

the leaves which appear one season, flourish for a 

summer and then die. I too am like a leaf on this tree and 

one day I shall be torn off by a storm, or I shall simply 

decay and fall and mingle with the earth at it’s roots. But, 

while I live I am conscious of the tree’s flowing sap and 

steadfast strength. Deep down in my consciousness is 

the consciousness of a collective life, a life of which I 

am a part as to which I make a minute but unique 

contribution. When I die and fall, the tree remains 

nourished to some small degree by my manifestation of 

life. Millions of leaves have preceded me and millions will 

follow me; but the tree itself grows and endures.

Th’ Gowden Weddin’, Anon

It seems no mooar nor tuthri year,

Sin’ th’ day ‘at we wur wed!

An’ yet ther’s fifty summers bloomed,

An’ fifty winters fled.

-We’ve hed eawr share o’ strife an’ care,

I’ ploddin’ throo life’s way,

Sin’ th’ parson med us booath i’ one,

Just fifty year to-day.


To-day’s eawr gowden weddin’, lass!—

Sooa sit tha deawn wi’ me,

An’ talk a bit o’er owden times,

An’ things ‘at used to be.

We’re gettin’ close to th’ latter end,

But still we’ll not repine ;

An’ time’s changed welly everything,

Except that heart o’ thine.


Thi yure ‘at shone like burnished gowd,

For years hes neaw bin grey;

An’ youth’s breet roses fro’ thi cheeks

Hev long sin’ passed away.

But tho’ theaw weears time’s fingermarks

I’ th’ wrinkles on thi broo,

Theaw’rt th’ same as what theaw allus wur—

Theaw’rt luvvin’, kind, an’ true.


We’ve booath warked hard, an’ poo’d one road

Throo th’ rough an’ smooth o’ life;

An’ struggled on as nob’dy con,

Exceptin’ mon an’ wife.

An’ tho’ we’ve booath bin quare at times,

When things hes bin upset,—

An’, maybe, hed a word or two,

Ther’s nowt to cause regret.


Last neet, aw passed throo th’ owd churchyard,

An’ stood wi’ heavin’ breast

Bi th’ grave wheer eawr three darlin’s lie

So peacefully at rest.

Eh, lass !—thoose days wur happy days !—

Pure bliss, witheawt alloy,

Till Death stretched eawt his cruel hond,

An’ robbed us uv eawr joy.


It med me feel so sad, mi lass,

To think they o hed gone,

For weel theaw knows what pain it wur,

To lose ’em everyone.


Remember Me, Anon

Don’t remember me with sadness,

Don’t remember me with tears,

Remember all the laughter,

We’ve shared throughout the years.

Now I am contented,

That my life it was worthwhile,

Knowing that as I passed along the way,

I made somebody smile.

When you are walking down the street,

And you’ve got me on your mind,

I’m walking in your footsteps,

Only half a step behind.

So please don’t be unhappy,

Just because I’m out of sight,

Remember that I’m with you,

Each morning, noon and night.

Poem For A Difficult Life, Anon

When I have come to the end of my journey

And I travel my last weary mile,

Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned

And remember only the smile.


Forget unkind words I have spoken

Remember some good that I’ve done

Forget that I ever had heartache

And remember I had loads of fun.


Forget that I’ve stumbled and blundered

And sometimes fell by the way.

Remember that I have fought some hard battles,

Yet won at the end of the day.


Then forget to grieve for my going

I would not have you sad for a day

But in summer just gather some flowers

And remember the place where I lay


And come in the shade of the evening

When the sun paints the sky in the west

Stand for a few moments beside me

And remember only my best.

Poem About Dad, Anon

If I could write a story,
It would be the greatest ever told
Of a kind and loving father
Who had a heart of gold.

I could write a million pages
But still be unable to say just how
Much I love and miss him
Every single day.

I will remember all he taught me.
I’m hurt but won’t be sad,
Because he’ll send me down the answers,
And he’ll always be my dad.

Andrea Jackson The Holistic Celebrant

Contact me by phone or email

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