Genealogical Poems

This page revised: 9/28/98



Today we walked where others walked
On a lonely, windswept hill;
Today we talked where other cried
For Loved Ones whose lives are stilled.

Today our hearts were touched
By graves of tiny babies;
Snatched from the arms of loving kin,
In the heartbreak of the ages.

Today we saw where the grandparents lay
In the last sleep of their time;
Lying under the trees and clouds -
Their beds kissed by the sun and wind.

Today we wondered about an unmarked spot;
Who lies beneath this hollowed ground?
Was it a babe, child, young or old?
No indication could be found.

Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay.
We had been here once before
On a day we'd all like to forget,
But will remember forever more.

Today we recorded for kith and kin
The graves of ancestors past;
To be preserved for generations hence,
A record we hope will last.

Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend,
For stones sometimes crumble to dust
And generations of folks yet to come
Will be grateful for your trust.

Greetings, cyber-cousins,
wherever you may be
out in the global village
of genealogy:

A world that's populated
by all our ancient kin,
my William and Sophronia,
your Fereby and Quinn,

your long lost Parthenasia,
my disappearing Dan,
your gallivanting Geoffrey,
my "Orphan Annie," Nan,

our Yanks and Rebs and cowboys,
and matriarchs of steel,
our sturdy yeoman farmers,
and captains at the wheel.

What is the lure of learning
their names and dates and ways?
Why stare we at yon monitor
with such a steady gaze?!?

What sends us to the lib'ry
to thumb through indices
and plunder through old papers
that make us sniff and sneeze?

Perhaps we're just eccentric,
when all is said and done...
But, cousins, one thing's certain-

by Kristina Simms


Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
Author Unknown

I saw this poem awhile back. I have typed it up on the back of several 3 x 5 index cards, laminated them & attached them to the stems of silk flowers to leave at the graves of my various ancetors. I also add my name & address on the card, that way if another descendant happens by, they can contact me if they like. Submitted by Laura Meeks

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