F amily man, first and foremost. Animal Lover Mark Gregory A poem ideal for someone who had a deep love for animals.Fly Robert Longley An inspiration poem about setting your soul free without fear.If (Pigeon-Fancier Version) original by Rudyard Kipling An adaptation of Kiplings original, but for a pigeon-fancier. The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawnand he names the sky his own. They help to capture the spirit of the person lost and express the feelings of the people left behind. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. The Dash Linda Ellis A verse pondering on making the most of the years between birth and death.If Rudyard Kipling Kiplings famous poem about what it means to be a man.A Life Well Lived anon A poem for someone who lived life to its fullest.Man In The Mirror Dale Wimbrow A reflective piece suggesting the most important opinion of you is your own.A Song Of Living Amelia Josephine Burr A verse which suggests loving life and living it fully leads to no regrets.Success Bessie Anderson Stanley A reflection upon what it means to be successful in life.Successful Life Eugene Grinman A poem pondering over what it means to have lived a successful life.The Time Is Now Bettina Van Vaerenbergh A poem encouraging us all to live well, and live in the now.When Great Trees Fall Maya Angelou A poem in free verse about how we feel when great people die. Broken beyond repair? Perhaps you thought I missed it all,And that wed grow apart,But Dad, I picked up everything,Its written on my heart. A Bowlers Prayer anon A short, light-hearted, slightly religious verse praising the game of ten-pin bowling. One, two, three, four,Much older now, death is at my door,Five, six, seven, eight,Even I cant escape my fate. Her flowers still bloom, and the sun it still shines,But the rain is like tear drops for the ones left behind,The weeds lay waiting to take the gardens beauty away,But the beautiful memories of its keeper are in our hearts to stay.She loved every flower, even some that were weeds.So much love she would plant with each little seed,But just like her flowers, she was part of Gods plan.So when it was her time, he reached down his hand.He looked through the garden, searching for the best.Thats when he found her; it was her time to rest.It was hard for those who loved her to just let her go,But God had a spot in his garden that needed a gentle soul,So when you start missing her, remember if you just wait,When God has a spot in his garden, shell meet you at the gate. Click on the title to continue reading, or browse a larger collection of funeral verses, including non-religious funeral poems and short verses. The gardener, with his spade and hoe,Works in the sun and rain and snow;He digs and plants and waters too,And watches over what he grew. Give my spare parts so some young buckMay make a start upon the roadTake the pannier of lifeAnd balance carefully his load. This upbeat tune was used as the theme for the BBC's Test Cricket Highlights for many years, making it popular funeral music for lifelong cricket fans. It'll knock you for six: the best poem ever written about cricket Simon Heffer 25 September 2018 7:00am Francis Thompson, poet and cricket enthusiast Credit: Getty The torrent of. Do you have a pavilion Lord?Where we could sit and talk?Can you give me lots of energySo that I am never short? Turned out from my hipsNo words coming from my lipsI dance sweetly to the soundOoh ballet, to you, I am bound. Any crosses, any shotsI will simply stop the lotI am always in demandThe goalie with expanding handsVolleys, blasters, scissor kicksI am safe between the sticksAll attacks I will withstandThe goalie with expanding handsFree kicks or a penaltyNo-one ever scores past meStrong and bold and safe Ill standThe goalie with expanding handsLet their strikers be immenseIm the last line of defenceAlert, on duty, all posts mannedThe goalie with expanding handsPalms as long as arms expandThumbs and fingers ready fannedYou may as well shoot in the standNot a chance! A line, a house would pass me byThe frustration could make a grown man cry! How could such blazing colour leave? You loved the roaring of the crowd,The rush of victory,You loved the sweat, the tears, the toil,The adrenaline, so sweet. The batsman pensively departed. 6. And keep a song within your heart,give thanks that you can playFor the round is far too short and sweet,to let it slip away. But now my life is over; its time to say farewell,But dont forget my fossils and the stories they do tell,The stories of our history, a glimpse into the pastThey serve as a reminder of what time has amassed. They fall on deaf ears, heart turned asideWaiting for someone, arms open wideI have become lost, my own mistakeI went far from them, no path to take. so sad, recurringWhat good amid these, O me, O life? Thanks A 93rd minute winner ensures the days before the next game are filled with hope, a thumping defeat fills hearts with despair. Pierce a bulls eye if you darethrow a fine dart through the aircenter it upon the dotgive it everything you got. That our caravanning days togetherHave now ended that is trueBut travel on my darlingAnd think of me as you do. And though we wish it couldhave stayed, we feel so lucky to have seen it. A broad demographic, some salt of the earthWho with them they bring passion, character and worthThe owners, the trainers, the jockeys, the stridethe horses, the strappers, the dreams and the pride. Standing and waiting for the race of life to beginIm getting quite nervous.Am I going to win? Ill never get to see your precious face;or whisper words to make you feel safeIll never get to hold you tightwhen you cant sleep at nightIll never get to sing to you a sweet lullaby,to calm you down when you cryIll never get to fall asleep with you in my arms,all bundled in a blanket to keep you warmIll never get to hear you laugh and giggleor see you little toes wiggleThere are many things I will never get to do,but the hardest is not being with you. I have always neededthe solace of storiesthe companionship of charactersthe escape of other worldsthe wisdom of wordsthe guidance of good writing. Poems for those who enjoyed the challenges of rock climbing, hiking, and fell-walking. Id like to leave but daffodilsto mark my little way,To leave but tulips red and whitebehind me as I stray;Id like to pass away from earthand feel Id left behindBut roses and forget-me-notsfor all who come to find. Only for those of a special breed,Living a dream, a chance to succeed,Yesterdays hopes and desires coming true,Making your mark with records anew,Proving hard work and the daily grind,Instructing the body, conditioning the mindCan capture a medal for the whole world to see, withGlamour and Pride for your country.As you stand aloft and your flag is flown high, theresMemories forever, and a tear in your eye,Enjoying the moment, the admiring looks,Securing your name in the history books. Lyrics from google. But now my shift is overIve done my very bestLast orders; its time for closureAnd time for me to rest. This kid fights great. Understand?Number one in all the landSuperhuman, super-spannedIn control and in commandIm the man, Im the manThe one and only goalie with my expanding hands! Id like to sow the barren spotswith all the flowers of earth,To leave a path where those who comeshould find but gentle mirth;And when at last Im called uponto join the heavenly throngId like to feel along my wayId left no sign of wrong. You are using an out of date browser. Warm summer sun, Shine kindly here, Warm southern wind, Blow softly here. There were a couple of muckers who mixed up the cement,they were forever subbing so they never paid their rent. And so now to me, what does it all meanfor me not the fashion, or the high social scenebut the thundering hooves pounding down on the earthThe grace and the power of these kings of the turf. If you can scan the skies in dreary weather,And do not feel downhearted when you say,Its dark now, and I havent got a feather,Yet you know that there are several on the day.If you can spare a handful for a stray one,And room at night to rest its weary frame.Count not the cost of what it eats, begrudge none,But hope someone will treat yours just the same. That Hand is you, Old Sailor.And youll be sailing out on Heavenly Seas.May the wind be ever at your back.Fair weather, and God Speed! If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,He was one who had an eye for such mysteries? Hes asked me if I would care to danceCant refuse, so Ill take the chanceTrembling as he takes me into his armsGliding together as the music starts. These funeral poems and readings are reflective and comforting. Kayaking Mark Gregory A poem about the peace and calm that one experiences on the water.The Oarsmans Song Steve Fairbairn A rhythmic poem about the hypnotic motion of a rower in full flight.Rowing In Eden Mark Gregory A short but touching poem about two friends drifting towards heaven. We rowed, my friend and I, out past the swallowing reeds and the water lilies to where the river opened into a world of morning light and the herons voices and the musky scent of redemption and then we dipped our oars in unison and glided silently toward heaven. Your life has purpose.God sent you on a mission.To live, to love, to learn Is His commission. Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! Copyright 2023 Scattering Ashes or original authors | Powered by. Develop your talents;They are unique.Use your time well;Listen only to positive critique. Always Been A Reader Mark Gregory A poem about the qualities of books and how they will endure after death.The Last Book Mark Gregory A poem about the miracle of life and being a part of it, even just for a while.The Library Mark Gregory A lovely poem about the magic of libraries, perfect for someone who worked in them.Roads Go Ever On J. R. R. Tolkien The classic from Tolkiens Lord of the Rings, perfect for a book-lover.Sitting In An Armchair Mark Gregory A book about a female reader in a chair being transported off to another land.There Is No Frigate Like A Book Emily Dickinson A short poem about how books carry us away to lands unknown. Nor is it the game of chance, that punting always brings, From TAB and bookies, and bar-room betting rings, The heady smell of fine manure, turf so lush and green, Fine dressed folk and superb horseflesh, making up the scene. Farewell my friend, youre leaving.Its time for you to go.Your friendship was a blessing,And I will miss you so.We shared so many secrets.You brightened up my days.You brought me so much happinessWith your kind and loving ways.You lifted up my spiritsWhen I was feeling blue.No matter what was happening,You knew just what to do.We ran between the raindropsAnd walked beneath the sun,Ran barefoot in the summertime,And oh, we had such fun.Through all the ups and downs of lifeThe good times and the sad,From high school days to golden years,The best friend I ever had.God is here to take you home.Now you and I must part.I love you, and foreverYou will live within my heart. With every brick, a story told,A bright creation, sturdy and bold,A masterpiece that broke the mould:A legacy that will never grow old. The Bowlers Prayer anon A prayer asking for help from God to ensure the bowled ball lands near the Jack.A Crown Green Bowlers Prayer P. Helliwell A verse imploring the Lord to ensure there are games of bowls in heaven.My Last End Graeme Cook A lovely, short poem inspired by memorable games upon that velvet turf.Unbiased Bowls J.J. Hasson A light-hearted poem discussing the bias of bowls and perhaps also of life. We are not members unfortunately. Haiku I wrote whilst out at some live jazz back in October, when it was warm enough for crickets. Could I meet family and friends, Lord?All those who have gone before?Have you lots of seats for supporters?And markers who will score? If your heart is heavy nowbecause Ive gone away,Dwell not long upon it friend;For none of us can stay.Those of you who liked me,I sincerely thank you allAnd those of you who loved me,I thank you most of all. Floral Tribute, which has been distributed by Armitage's publisher, Faber, is a double acrostic . Shimano SPD Cleats SH51 MTB SPD - Single Release, Fresh Goods Friday 642 Cake For Me, Corned Beef For You, Whats Open At Glentress? Sunday morning early comesThis sweltering summers day;Chrome and coffee polished offAs bike and rider wake. But take heed, becauseShes still keeping an eye on all of us,So lets make sureShe will like what she sees. To hunt a bird,To wet a line,Gifts from God,So good and fine. The loss cannot be measured now, The void cannot be filled And though someday the grief made fade,His mark will live on still.For even with my heavy heart,I know that Ive been blessedTo have been one whos life he touchedWith warmth so infinite. I gathered petals in my hand,I felt their velvet, soft and blandI saw the soft colours in my palmLooking not unlike some lucky charmI raised them to my lipsAnd whispered words for you aloneThen placed the petals upon your bed,And stood alone, this moment of dread,I turned and walked awayMy words, my love, are with you I pray. The driver sees it differently, with their car becomes a part,Take the road together, hit the road, with a single beating heart,The turbos rising wail, and the exhausts muscled, subtle growl,To the drivers ear, an orchestra, theres music in that howl. Use code HELLO54 when you join us as a print or digital member and your membership will be half price for the first year. The music stops,And yet it echoes onIn sweet refrains;For every joy that passes,Something beautiful remains. Ill walk the extra mile.Not because I have to, but because its worth my while.I know that I am different, when I stand on a crowded street.I know the fullness of winning, Ive tasted the cup of defeat. The life of man is like a game of chess,The which he plays according to his art;Winning or losing he doth nothing lessThan to obey the dictates of his heart. Whats with this ballThat they could kick so high?It meant the worldTo you and them, so why? I read of a man who stood to speakAt the funeral of a friendHe referred to the dates on the tombstoneFrom the beginning to the end. Then as the flowers transcendedAnd the night closesNothing is brokenOnly waiting to be mended. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. BUY NOW PAY LATER with Klarna, available at checkout. Our lager, which art in barrels,Hallowed be Thy drink,Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),At home as I am in the tavern.Give us this day our foamy head,And forgive us our spillages,As we forgive those who spill against us,And lead us not to incarceration,But deliver us from hangovers,For thine is the beer, the bitter and the lager,Forever and ever,Barmen. Cricket Poems - Modern Award-winning Cricket Poetry : All Poetry Poems / Cricket Poems - The best poetry on the web anolderambler Follow Nov '22 Cricket T20 sun-soaked, in a blaze of glory bowlers marauding torn grass blades ball-ridden lost amidst an everlong green morning Now, you will never leave me,For I will always find youIn the beauty of life. Poems for those who made a living as a florist, or who simply enjoyed picking, giving or receiving flowers. Knit one, purl one, knit two togetherHer woollen creations will last forever.The sound of her needles, clickety clack,Another row on the counter, turn and go back. I hold onto memories of you And cherish them with love God took you from this world So, you could be with Him in Heaven I lost you too soon But I will never forget you. There it goes.On lifes track I am starting to run. So please bear with us, dear audienceAnd act your part as well:We salute a thespian titanWho had such a good life to tell. Is there art and adventure?Tell me are you happy? crunch!, but I know you may fight back.You are so bright it makes me cry.When I finish creating different things, I may destroy you.There are so many of you, but compared to Legoland, this is small.You may be decoration but you are more to me.You are the biggest set and I am happy to see you.You are beautiful when you are together, but it makes me sad because the adventure is over. Where the Oriole swellsHis throat as he tellsOf his flight through ethereal spaceAnd his music flowsWhile the earths reposeIs deeper because of his grace. My trusty pencil helps me out At crossword puzzle time. Avaruus Ja Thtitiede. There . Dance with the wavesMove with the seaLet the rhythm of the waterSet your soul free. Stepping into his workshop to start the day,Different pieces of wood laid in array,The scent of cedar filling the air,A piece of furniture he works to prepare,Handcrafted with love and the finest precision,A work came to life with what he could envision,Measuring the wood for the perfect size,Tape measure at hand from his supplies,Reaching for a saw lying on a shelf,He whistles a familiar tune to himself,Cutting the wood with the utmost care,A type of craftsmanship no other can compare,Skilled at working with his hands,He strives to use them for all of lifes demands,Hands that could craft his hearts desires,Creating a lifetime of work to be forever admired,The ability to turn something simple into grand,The only tools he needed were his left and right hand,Each piece of work embodies his spirit and love,A talent he was blessed with from the Lord above,The carpenter lives on through his creations,His heart the framework to all his foundations, Why, Oh why, didnt I build my own coffin?Now that the chips are downThen I wouldnt have a splinter in my bumWith me unable to protest in sound, My lifes jigsaw is dovetailed awayAnd its my turn now to walk the plankBut my coffin maker also made the boatAnd fortunately for me, it sank, Ashes to ashes, sawdust to sawdustMy preservative has whittled awayFarewell to the woods, farewell to the treesA master craftsman now lies at ease. I've picked 10 of my favourite funeral verses including a special funeral poem for a Dad. A Boy and His Dad by Edgar A. Afterwards Thomas Hardy A beautiful poem with many delicately described images of the English countryside.In Memory Of My Mother Patrick Kavanagh A poem written for an Irish mother who loved the countryside.Margarets Moon Jackie Kay A poem about the death of a lady, whose soul is released into the Scottish highlands.My Country Dorothea MacKellar An ode to the wondrous countryside of the authors home. This is the end of serviceFor it and one you loveA subtle juxtapositionOf which is up above. When I speak your name,It still brings music to my ears,And I can still see your smileAs if heaven is so near. And standing thereTill that calm song is done, at last well shareThe league-spread, quiring symphonies that areJoy in the world, and peace, and dawns one star. May each new day be a perfect gift.May love surround you, may your spirits lift. Dont laugh at me, for I am not laughing with you.I see youre laughing at me why is this true? Dont be sad for me todayFor me please do not weepCall upon your memoriesThey are yours to keep. - Navjot Sidhu 5 1 Add a comment The third umpires should be changed as often as nappies and for the same reason. I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,And the wheels kick and the winds song and the white sails shaking,And a grey mist on the seas face and a grey dawn breaking. In the grey summer garden I shall find youWith day-break and the morning hills behind you.There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.Not from the past youll come, but from that deepWhere beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:And I shall know the sense of life re-bornFrom dreams into the mystery of mornWhere gloom and brightness meet. There Is A New Star Shining In The Sky Tonight, Dear God, Please Take Care Of My Little Girl, Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art. Search the forum using the power of Google, Lost my Dad recently and my son is hoping to do a reading at the memorial service at church. Be brave.Swim against the stream;Its more than okay. Cried and yelled at the moonand crushed nightmaresDrank together and helped each otherback to bed. They are not the same. A product of where youve been, What youve done and what theyve seen, Theyve learnt most from the example you have set, So not totally to blame, Not too different, but the same, We all think we tried our very best, and yet? I have met him away from his own native dales,In cities and lands where strange language prevails;Yet a breath of his county he always exhales,and thus you will know hes a Yorkshireman. The final chapter of that is quite moving as the author was battling unsuccessfully against cancer to get it finished. When you decide to call me LordIn Your special way,Could there be a team one player shortWho might ask me to play? Sorry I had to cut the end off, but ARRSE only lets you post 10,000 characters at a time. Where words fail,music speaks.It speaks of the pain,of the sorrow,of the lost,of the life we live.It shares emotions.Its a way to connect,to understandwhat others feel.Where words fail,music speaks.It tells the truthwhether you want it to or not.Music shares the soulsof those were around,of those in the worldthat were living.I wish to sharemy music with youSo you can understandthe pain I feel,so I can share my soul with you,so you can understandWhat Im going through. I see now it was love, MumThat made you come whenever Id call,Your inexhaustible love, MumAnd I thank you for it all. From hoops, to drops, to barbell hugs, She loved wearing tiny rocks, But no one can actually see her now, Shes become a walking jewellery box! The race begins,as engines roar.They charge ahead,like a wild boar. Twilight and evening bell,And after that the dark!And may there be no sadness of farewell,When I embark. To the pearly gates of Heaven, where they will usher you in. Do not ask me to remember,Dont try to make me understand,Let me rest and know youre with me,Kiss my cheek and hold my hand. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Grandmas quilts were always there,A comforting, colourful sight,A source of warmth and motherly love,On cold and lonely nights. Iron horses, hundreds strong,Come thundring through the gate;Sleeping souls on notice, fallenBiker nears his fate. As long as they hold true,the night cannot win. Fossils ,storms,eroded coast.The shadow that I miss the most.A lonely voice, lost to the waves.Singing in a hidden cave.A silent humupon the shore,a voice thats never heard,no more.Maybe on some other plain,somewhere lost inside my brain.Words transcending from the grave,somewhere lost inside my brain. Climbing up inclines so tall,treading carefully as not to fallemerging from the depthstaking several deep breathsI make my way to the surfacethe thought of leaving makes me nervous. Poems for petrol heads, or simply for those who enjoyed a Sunday drive. All through the swing he hears the boat singAs she glides on her flying track,And he gathers aft to strike the craftWith a ringing bell note crack. You watched us make the same mistakes, That you had made before, But that just made you hold us tight, And love us all the more. But as the end of his life grew near,He lay on his bed with no fear:For he knew in his heartFlags will never departFrom this world they will fly loud and clear. They kept us warm on winter nights,A sense of peace and calm,They were more than just plain fabric;They were creations of her palm. Im climbing a mountainI reach out to touch the blue sky,This feeling of freedomWill live with me until I die. And when this carpenter arrived in heavenhe was expected andimmediately he was put to work:for the Pearly Gateswere a bit looseand St. Peters deskhad a couple of drawers that stuck.And before longthe old master carpenterbegan to builda new thronefor God. "At Lords" by Francis Thompson is pretty well-known (above wiki > cricket poetry > poems). Thanks to Roger. Your lines and curves and perfection of shapeTransport my soul and take hold of my gaze.Your lines of your chest oer shoulder and napeTransport my soul to see beauty and praise. So, if this is the last timeWe speak, then may I say,Life with you was good, my friend,And Ill see you on the 19th one day. Poems for those who loved exploring caves and caverns underground. And now, the builders time has come,But their creations live on and on,A testament to the builders fun:A legacy, to shine upon. You radiate warmth like a blazing fire.You are courage and wisdom. I am a man who works with God,I cannot succeed without his help,For you see,Im just a farmerPlain and simple. A precious angel slipped away, no one heard a cry.No time for Dad and Mommy to sing me lullabies.My time with you was much too short. All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. Front-wheel down now, still Im flying, Through the gearbox, deftly plying, Speedo reads two hundred plus, Got up there without a fuss, Hard on brakes, back through the box, For an instant, rear wheel locks, Round the bend, my weight Im shifting, As the rear wheel, neatly drifting. For untying the strings that held them,when they grew up and left home.I give you this one for courage.Then the Lord added a garnet stone. That man taught me to ride a bike,And even how to fly a kite.He taught me to know wrong from right,When to run and when to fight. The memoriesI have throughoutThe yearsWill lastforever withLaughter and tears. Dont Quit John Greenleaf Whittier An inspirational poem urging those listening not to give up when times are hard.Olympic Games Ken Budden A acrostic poem reflecting on the hard work required to win a medal for your country.Olympic Race Victoria Seale-Constantinou A poem comparing life to an Olympic race, and reflecting upon its end.To An Athlete Dying Young A. E. Houseman A poem reflecting upon the premature death of a sportsman.
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