A Poem about Phoebe Dockstader when she died

                            DIED

In the town of Mohawk, April 4^th 1872

Phoebe Dockstater, aged 83 years and 8 Months

The lengthened, and useful, and beautiful years,

Of our Mother are now fled, and a fountain of tears

We feigh would now shed, did we not surely know,

That the robe that she wears is washed whiter than snow:

And the crown that’s adorning her slight-silvered hair.

Was made for the purest of angels to wear.

She has crossed the still waters, so dark and so deep,

She has found such sweet rest, such a long quiet sleep:

“Where no trouble assail,” where no sorrow can come,

Where the angels’ white fingers, the golden harps thrum;

And the broad “victor palm” which she bears in her hand,

Is a badge of the holy in god’s blessed land.

Her life was too pure for the  pencil to trace,

Her goodness of heart might be read in her face;

And when her life’s sunshine was sprinkled by tears,

She clung to the Cross, and her faith banished fears,

For well did she know that each trial she bore;

But placed in her deathless crown one jewel more.

#

Phoebe  Dockstader  was the Grandmother  of Marietta Lynk Thomas.

Marietta’s son was my Maternal Grandfather, Wesley Lynk Thomas.

CLEANING POEM FOR SPRING

The Cleaning Poem

I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess.
He asked if I'd been 'computering',
And I had to answer 'yes.'

He told me to get off my fanny,

And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up...
The smudges off my mouse.

I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick...
I was just admiring my good work.

I didn't mean to 'click.'

But click, I did, and oops - I found
A real absorbing site
That I got SO way into it...
I was into it all night.

Nothing's changed except my mouse.
It's very, very shiny.
I guess my house will stay a mess...
While I sit here on my hiney.

Submitted by Janice

FATHER’S DAY REMEMBRANCE - 40 YEARS AGO

FATHER’S DAY JUNE 2011

This poem was read at my Father’s Funeral 40 Years Ago

Glenn Harold Bolger
18 Sep 1911 Coon Rapids, IA
14 Nov 1971 Carroll, IA

Guidance
by Robert O. Birkhimer

He will not walk with me again,
Who gently held my hand
To guide me when I was so small
I could not understand
The trials that, from day to day,
Reset the paths I trod;
He will not walk with me again,
For now he walks with God.

He will not talk with me again,
Who gently led my mind
To understand the myriad ways
Of blundering mankind;
Who gave me faith to guide my way--
Divine as Moses’ rod--
He will not talk with me again,
For now he talks with God.

Yet as I contemplate the ways
That he has counseled me
The things I ought to do and say
And what I ought to be
If now the hand that guided me
Is clay beneath the sod,
He walks with me, and talks with me,
Although he is with God

GLENN BOLGER, 60

DIES FROM STROKE

The community was shocked and saddened

Monday morning to hear of the death of Glenn Bolger

60. He suffered a stroke Friday night after the band

concert at the high school and was rushed to St.

Anthony Hospital in Carroll where he died early

Monday morning.

A son of Frank and Hazel Wilson Bolger, he was

born Sept. 18, 1911, on the same farm north of Coon

Rapids on which he resided at the time of his death.

His marriage to Ruth Thomas took place at Carroll

May 8, 1934. He was a member of United Methodist

Church and had been active in community affairs.

Funeral services were held Wednesday Morning

at the United Methodist church with the Rev.

James Buikema officiating. Mrs. Virginia Stawarz

was organist and accompanied Mrs. William

Bowman, soloist.

Casketbearers were Orel Thomas, Leverne

Smith, Faris Thompson, Victor ford, William Bowman

and William Bote. Burial was in the Coon Rapids

Cemetery.

Survivors include his widow, Ruth; six children,

Mrs. Paul (Carolyn) Conner, Glidden; Robert of

Baton Rouge, La; Mrs. William (Nancy) Smith,

Des Moines; Alan of Coon Rapids, Joel and Janice,

both at home; 12 grandchildren; his mother, Mrs.

Hazel Bolger of Coon Rapids; one sister, Mrs.

Clifford (Claire) Grimm of Perry.

"Afterglow" Orginal Poem by Laura

This poem was in the Story I did for Mom(Ruth).

Poem by Laura Anderson February 1953

After Glow
The wintry sun has set
Beyond fields of ice and snow
But all along the horizon
Is a beautiful after glow.

Streamers of gold and crimson
Shining over the snow
And far above the horizon
From the beautiful after glow.

When my life on earth is ended
And I am called to go
May the path where I have traveled
Have a shining after glow.

Poetry with Obituaries

John Evans Thomas

This poem was published with
John E. Thomas, JR Obituary
Born June 1, 1858 Near Freeport, IL
Died November 8, 1955 West Concord, MN
He was my Great Uncle.
Son of John And Lydia Hartman Thomas

Do you know the hour
when the sun goes down
Is a beautiful time of day--
when your task is done
And the shadows fall
And your worries are laid away?
Well, it's just as true
That the close of life
Can a beautiful sunset be
Every task well done
Let the shadows fall
There's no fear of eternity.

My New Genealogy Blog

I am still in the learning stage for my new blog.
I will be posting genealogy information about my family.