The clock of life is wound but once,And no man has the powerTo tell just when the hands will stopAt late or early hour. 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. In life, he found his greatest joyIn this game of queens and kings,Now, as he rests beneath the soil,We remember all of his wins. Then as the flowers transcendedAnd the night closesNothing is brokenOnly waiting to be mended. You played the game with all your soul,Giving everything to win,You pushed yourself to the brink and backTime and time again. Candles In The Night Peter Madden A poem about light fighting against darkness.Five Candles Sherry L. Williams A poem that can be used during a candle-lighting ritual to remember the deceased.I Light A Candle For You anon A poem in free verse about the symbolism of a candle and what it can represent.I Still Burn Bright anon A short verse reminding us that the flame of our loved ones burns bright, even after death. Poems for those who enjoyed the tranquillity and competition of Crown Green Bowls. The bingo caller shouts out loud and clearThat number you have been waiting to hear!You rise to your feet and shout out loud:BINGO! Never to kill. Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not madeBy singing:Oh, how beautiful! and sitting in the shade,While better men than we go out and start their working livesAt grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives. 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. A Fantastic Football Fan Anthea Ballam A poem perfect for a huge fan of the beautiful game.The Footballers Prayer Paul Cookson An adaptation of the Lords Prayer, but football themed!The Goalie With Expanding Hands Paul Cookson A poem fitting most of all for an excellent goalkeeper.The Passing Of A Footballer Michael Ashby A poem comparing heaven to a football squad.You Loved The Game Mark Gregory A poem for someone who spent their career wowing fans on the pitch. Goodbye, to you, with whom Ive shared,This wondrous gift of life.Enjoy the dance, lifes sweet refrain,For love is timeless as the stars,And I will dance with you again. Stump and bail flashed and flew; Ive got the bowling ball blues.I just cannot get a strike.I bought these white leather shoes.I paid a mighty fine price.Come on now, roll like thunder,Drop those pins asunder:Cure my bowling ball blues. Tip: Does it create a picture in your mind? I farmed the land,I tramped the wood,These are the thingsI understood. Poems reflecting a passion for spending nights under the stars. Long life to her for theres no other,to take the place of my dear mother. It broke our hearts to lose you,But you didnt go alone,For part of us went with youThe day God called you home. The Lego builder, with skill and care,Constructed worlds, beyond compare,With towers tall, and cities fair:A legacy, to last and share. Poems for those who had a passion for stars, constellations, and the great beyond. Old Father Time, I pray to youThat clouds give it a rest,And that I get a game today,And that I play my best. To hunt a bird,To wet a line,Gifts from God,So good and fine. 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. Sunset and evening star,And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,When I put out to sea. And at the end of that good lifewhen it came time for him to diethe old carpenter soaredinto the white light of death for the white light is where the good souls go to. The race begins,as engines roar.They charge ahead,like a wild boar. I am the wind in your hair, the sand in your toesButterfly kisses that you feel on your noseI am with you at sunrise and in the sunsetBut you cannot see me, its my one regret. This world of rayAnd shark, of fish and whale, of wonderful creaturesOf strange colours, shapes, and featuresLies beneath the foam and waves of the sea.Ancient reefs call to meTo come and share in their beauty,To bathe in their serenity.This deep blue world of perfectionMassages my soul, and relieves the tensionOf living on the noisy land,For here no noise disturbs the sandOr coral or walls or caves,Nor are they disturbed by wavesWhich crash around the land worlds rim.This deep blue world remains calm in dimSubdued light filtered and made gentle by the depths.I feel a part, but am only a guestIn this undersea EdenFrom which I must depart for a season,Left to remember, and to anticipate the dayWhen I may return. 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. I juggle through the years, and watch them come and go,With all their hopes and fears, their joys and tears and woe,I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by. extract from The Tempest by William Shakespeare. And the strong odour of fish in North Shields, stink of cattle feed outside Goole, sickly smell of plastics factory, oil newly-refined, makes you see even if youre blind. He may be reserved in his manner and speech,And hide the fine graces of which pedants preach;But he is kind and sincere when his heart you once reach,For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. Thousands of bells chimed overheadTheir lovely tone shaping my thoughtsSplendid new lands danced in my sightBut with ten thousand bells as my guideI would never be lost. Poems for chefs, cooks, and those who simply enjoyed spending time in the kitchen cooking for their loved ones. Poems for those who suffered from terminal illness in their final years. My memories are what I have left,and a lesson I will not forget. document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() ); Scattering Ashes UK The Chapel 11 Seale Hayne Newton Abbot Devon TQ12 6NQ Email: info@scattering-ashes.co.uk Tel: 01626 798198. Id like to encourage you all to remember my game,And maybe keep my photo or my top score in a frame.And when your own ball reaches the end of the lane,Id like to hope Id see you in the afterlife again. To all of those that think of me,Be happy as I go out to sea.If others wonder why Im missinJust tell em Ive gone fishin. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stay,And early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. play up! Alas, reality was somewhat different. Poems for those who shared a passion for rowing, canoeing, kayaking, and other oar-based water sports. Alzheimers Dick Underwood A touching poem about how Alzheimers often takes away the mind before the body.I Am At Peace Jennifer Alderton A short verse accepting the peace and freedom that comes with death after illness.The Long Goodbye Ellen Miller A verse reminding us that the person we have lost was not defined by their disease.Those Hands That Once Held Mine Dean Harrison A beautiful verse for a son about his mother and her Alzheimers.Two Mothers Remembered Joann Snow Duncanson Remembering a mother who changed due to illness. A 93rd minute winner ensures the days before the next game are filled with hope, a thumping defeat fills hearts with despair. The archer and his bowCelebrate victory!The greatest of allThe archers in history. The archer and his bowAlways achieve gloryThough this is the endOf their epic story. Alcohol. 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! Poems for Funerals and Memorial Services One does not leave a funeral in the same way that he has come. Whee, in the airThe balls roll around, wheel on his wheeling hands,Learning the ways of lightness, alter to spheresGrazing his finger ends,Cling to their courses there,Swinging a small heaven about his ears. Pension Multiplier - commuted of full pension value used. Dont curse me, for I have done you no wrong.I only want the acceptance I have needed for so long. Sir Henry Newbolt's "Vitai Lampada" ("Play up! That very place where children sit,in safety and in pleasure,To bask in love and comfort,is truly a childs life treasure,Where this child can feel so grown up,and a Gran feel like a kid,Learn and laugh together from stories,of all the things she did. Dear friends I go, but do not weep;Ive lived my life, so full and deep.Throughout my life, I gave my best,I earned my keep, Ive earned my rest.I never tried to be great or grand,I tried to be a helping hand. With a nod of the head, or a grip of the hand,He will give you his bond, that for ever will stand,And nothing much safer youll find in the land;For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. Their love for film was boundlessAnd theyd watch them one by oneFrom the classics to the newest hitsTheir passion was second to none. Triumphantly their bodies sing,Their eyes are blindWith music. por | Jun 14, 2022 | considera la reazione di decomposizione del perossido di idrogeno | how to make a braided rug lay flat | Jun 14, 2022 | considera la reazione di decomposizione del perossido di idrogeno | how to make a braided rug lay flat While most of us are fast asleepAs the moon begins its fall,And drifts its gentle lightAcross the clock upon the wall;Theres others who have left their bedsTheres hoof beats in the dawn,And out upon the training trackThe music of the morn.The frost lays thick upon the groundAnd shines upon the roofs,And all around, the lovely soundA thousand steel shod hoofs,A scraping here, a snorting thereA jockeys curse, a whinny;A trainer feeling tender legsDamn, that colts gone shinny.The flaring nostrils show soft red,A roll, hose, scrape and lead,The rug thrown on, and off back homeTo munch the morning feedAnd as they leave, some more come inWhile the sun turns red at dawnTo the clatter of a thousand hoofs,The music of the morn.So when I die I hope that ICan chat with old Saint Peter,And that dear chap would understandThat nothing could be sweeterFor me, to go where the horses runDown a track thats long and worn,To hear once more, the glorious sound;The music of the morn. Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Over'? Tiny Angel can you tell me,Why you have gone away?You werent here for very longWhy is it, you couldnt stay? Im all the jobs rolled into one:Host, therapist, friend.I give the people what they want;Im basically a godsend. I Do Not Think My Song Will End Jonny Hathcock A poem about the deceased becoming one with nature.Look For Me In Rainbows Conn Bernard A call to remember the deceased through nature and happy memories. The only reason these days,that I ever get down on one knee,Is to view the World the way,that only a Bowler gets to see,Upon that velvet turf,looking down along the level green,Studying the Kittys spread,and where the Jack is on the scene.Will my final bowl be cunning,or just drive to win the end?I know Ill find theres Bowls in Heaven,so worry not my friend. For though from out our bourn of Time and PlaceThe flood may bear me far,I hope to see my Pilot face to faceWhen I have crossed the bar. We ate greens, we ate biscuitsWe ate lamb chops and fresh-picked peasWe said yes dad, we said no dadWe said thank you mum and please. The peewees in the town park are distinctive in their call,And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall,And for one who will not breathe again, the eulogy is read,And the funeral bell is tolling, in memory of the dead. He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The funeral bell is ringing, a reminder of our mortality,Farewelling a deceased soul, one day twill ring for me.Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day,Across the rural city, in the morning damp and grey. Soft whistlingBats perched on the ceilingTears of the cavesDripping and echoingGentle lapping waterAcross rocking shoresGlowing mushrooms andGlowing wormsStalactites and stalagmitesShuddering in placeWarm, soft breathsOf bears who hibernateThe cave is sleepingBut very aliveAnd it is singingA mournful goodbye. Poems reflecting the skill and handiwork of bricklayers and builders. Through our tears we look upwards to see [person] watching over us. He put his arms around youAnd lifted you to rest.Gods garden must be beautiful,He always takes the best. For they existed. Or when Sol dips his crestNeath the glorious westAnd the sunlight congeals into darkWe will skim by the seaWe will shoot oer the leaWe will follow the meteors mark. Brothers and sisters came next,With that, an instant friend.Someone to look up to,Someone on whom to depend. Poems for those who excelled at the supple sport of gymnastics, at whatever level. That man was made of many partsA teacher of lifes skills and artsFull of love and full of careWith much to give, and much to share. And so I have a gift for you,My love, in the form of a roseIll hold it to my lipsAnd whisper my loving prose. I doubt Ill get to heaven with an invite from the man,so I parked my bike grabbed a beer and built myself this plan!Im building myself a ramp as tall as ever seen,Ill supercharge my bike, and add a couple wings!Timing will be critical, speed will factor in,angle and approach and Ill whistle me a tune!Then one day when my journey is coming to its end,Open up them pearly gates cause this bikers jumpin in! Dont give up, though the pace seems slowYou may succeed with your next blow.Success is failure turned inside outIts the difference between faith and doubtYou may be close, though it seems so farIts hard to tell how close you areSo stick to the flight when youre hard hitIts when things seem their worst,That you must not quit. Click on the title to continue reading, or browse a larger collection of funeral verses, including non-religious funeral poems and short verses. It was a heaven houseThe books were there, and so were people whoLoved reading them, and that is all that matters. When these graven lines you see,Traveller, do not pity me;Though I be among the dead,Let no mournful word be said. One is MS Dhoni and the other are the all others. I havent really left you guys,I am closer than you know,I will be the whisper in the wind,I will be everywhere you go. They dipThey soarThey dart right byWe wonder how it feels to fly. Poems for those who either acted in films or shared a passion for movies unlike any other. The memories so dear and true,those memories of me and you. Dear God, Please Take Care Of My Little Girl Terry Gouveia A religious poem asking God to take care of a child.Heartfelt Memories anon A poem highlighting the wonder and light that a daughter brought to our lives.My Tiny Butterfly Ann Lundrigan A poem about a mothers bond with her daughter, who has passed.Our Song Jodi M. Kucera A poem to be used for the loss of a daughter who has children of her own.The Twilight Hours Christine Bevington A poem about those late night hours when your thoughts carry you away. Feel no guilt in laughter, theyd know how much you care.Feel no sorrow in a smile that they are not here to share.You cannot grieve forever; they would not want you to.Theyd hope that you could live your life the way you always do.So, talk about the good times and the way you showed you cared,the days you spent together, all the happiness you shared.Let memories surround you, a word someone may saywill suddenly recapture a time, an hour or a day,that brings them back as clearly as though they were still here,and fills you with the feeling that they are always near.For if you keep those moments, you will never be apartand they will live forever locked safely within your heart.
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