The Hill of Life

28 Apr

It was while John was helping the family to sort out his mothers belongings as she had recently passed away, he came across this poem. We don’t know who the author was or if  Johns mother or father had written it themselves or copied it from somewhere. If anyone knows the original author I would be most grateful to hear.


You stand at the bottom of the hill and look up

But you simply just can’t see the top.

So now starts the uphill climb

Go steady and you’ll get there in time..


Its easy going for a while

And you stride out in style,

Now the path is getting rough

And climbing is starting to get tough.


Half way there so you begin to tire,

Take a breath with the view to admire.,

Now the journey to carry on

The path to the top seems so long.


Its getting very slippy

So the climbing gets tricky,

Two steps forward one step back

Must find another track


Ah its a bit easier now

Soon you’ll be on the brow,

Few more steps and you’ll be there

The scenery with the birds you can share.


Right, you have reached the top,

It was worth those bumps, and a little knock

As you look at the lovely view

So serene and peaceful too.


Life is like a hill to climb

With some hazards most of the time.

But there are times when your on top.

And those problems are soon forgot.

This was dated 1983 and hand written in pencil .



Posted by on April 28, 2014 in Poems


5 responses to “The Hill of Life

  1. dorannrule

    April 29, 2014 at 3:18 am

    Oh, this is quite lovely Rita – life’s journey as an uphill climb with pauses to drink in the beauty. Thanks for sharing.


  2. ritaroberts

    April 29, 2014 at 5:45 am

    It is very appropriate of life. Thanks for your lovely comment Dora.


  3. nutsfortreasure

    April 30, 2014 at 9:45 pm

    Wonderful words. Hope you are well HUGS


  4. Anne

    May 4, 2014 at 8:08 am

    Hugs for John and you, Rita. Lovely poem.


    • ritaroberts

      May 4, 2014 at 11:05 am

      Thanks Anne, Hope you are well and happy. Glad you liked this poem. I think there are a couple more when John finds them.



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