T he one person I could always take my troubles to. Poems for those who suffered from terminal illness in their final years. And when he stood on his hands, his bodyCurled like a wave about to break,It was as if he had become a conduitFor the energy that lifted him, a lakeThrough which the light of motion passedAs if he were a lens that bentThe radiance of his own quickness. This wretched pain inside of meMy throat, my heart, my now. Where was I?Whats my time? One, two, three, four,Much older now, death is at my door,Five, six, seven, eight,Even I cant escape my fate. For forty years Ive lived with God,Oft from the haunts of men.Ive thought upon His wondrous wordAnd scenes beyond our ken. And when its time that they sadly must leave usWe grieve, but also we smile.We give thanks that our lives were connectedAnd were tucked in their heart for a while. the christ hospital human resources. 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. Poems for people from Yorkshire, or for those who loved and epitomised it during their life. So let us all be gardeners fair,And tend to life with love and care,And watch the seeds we plant come through,To bloom and flourish, strong and true. The beauty and peace it brings my wayIs difficult to describeFor we who bike for pleasureBelong to a different tribe. Oh life! write me in historymove over King Tutyou aint got nothingon the legitimate King! Based on real world data - you can't go wrong with these poems. Together were in this relationship,We built it with care to last the whole trip,Our true destinations not marked on any charts;Were navigating to the shores of the heart. Poems reflecting upon the importance of the memories we have of others. And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress eyebrow. I am a double award-nominated Family and Funeral Celebrant covering the entire UK, and would be happy to help you commemorate in a meaningful and personal way. All evil men intent on evil thingfalter, for in their cold unready earsbells in the town alight with springmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. Ill place a stone of amethyst, He said.For all the times you spent on your knees,when you asked if Id take care of your children,and then for having faith in Me., I have a pearl for every little sacrificethat you made without them knowing.For all the times you went without,to keep them happy, healthy and growing., And last of all I have a diamond,the greatest one of all,for sharing unconditional lovewhether they were big or small., It was you love that helped them growFeeling safe and happy and proudA love so strong and pureIt could shift the darkest cloud., After the Lord placed the last jewel in,He said, Your crown is now complete,Youve earned your place in HeavenWith your children at your feet., by Lewis Haynes (slightly adapted by Mark Gregory). The instruments played this salutationTo amusicianof note and much moreAt the end, everyone stamped their feetEncore, Encore, Encore! We miss him in his gardenDoing odd jobs here and there.We miss him at the tableWhen we see the empty chair.We miss him at the firesidewhen we gather round the blaze.We miss him, oh, we miss himIn a hundred different ways.When troubles came the familyWould always turn to him.He always had a cheery wordWhen things were looking grimAnd now hes gone we know he wouldntWant us to be sad But life can never be the sameWithout the Dear Old Dad. 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. After she died, I swear the skyHad the most beautiful of all sunsets,A blush of pink, then red, a glass of red,Sudden dark and a hammock moon,Then its faint silhouette, almost secret.Life half-written, half unsaid.I had kissed your head in the strange room.Then later, I blew a kiss to the stars, to regret. We all paint our lives.The mountains of challenges,The rivers of tears,The waterfalls of joy. Day is ended, dim my eyes,but journey long before me lies.Farewell, friends! I have to goagaineven thoughIve just come backeven ifIm covered in bloodblood all over meeverywherethat no one bothersto wipe offand yet they call mestillthe crowd cheersthe ref is impatientmy opponent awaits meI feel deadenedevery voice is far awayand yet I hearI knowthat this is the momentthat I have to goits my jobat first I liked itI couldnt stopit was my lifenow no longerIm exhaustedworn outIm in pieceshow longcan my body last?how many of those punchescan it take?night is fallingI feel itfalling quicklyon memy powers weakendeath will comeand bethe fatal woundfor methe final defeat. There once was a man from round hereWho loved flags more than he loved beer,He flew them with prideFrom morning til nightAnd even slept with them, so we hear! A Redevelopment Update, NBD: Last Tarvo 2, Specialized Tero X, Crankbros Mallet Trail, This topic has 9 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated. We kick off-side by side in a minuteCheered by old family, teammates and friendsFootballs really a blast in heavenAfter your first whistle, the matches never end! Karate is a quiet art,Yet speaks louder than a shout.It moves with grace, a work of heart,And can turn a life around. Knit one purl one, knit one purl oneThe band was almost doneThe soft sound of the needles clickety clackFinish one row, turn around and go back. cricket poems for funerals. Just remember that I need you,That the best of me is gone,Please dont fail to stand beside me,Love me til my life is done. " When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease " is a track on the Roy Harper album HQ, a prominent example of cricket poetry. We think of you as yesterday,When you were fit and well.And when were asked about you,Its those things that well tell. But the greatest of the treasuresThat old apron could ever holdWas the endless love from MotherAbiding in each fold. I pour the steaming liquid,Watching the tendrils of steamRise, as if they carry my thoughtsTo some distant, better place. I know I caused you sadness,I know caused you pain,But I was captured by these demons,They wouldnt set me free again. Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. Some light up rooms with their laughterOthers brighten the world with a smile.Many will make you feel happyBy sitting nearby for a while. Your love for coffee was a passion,A way to start each day anew.It gave you strength and courage,To do the things you had to do. Life is chess.There is always a competitor;one side is always dealt a better hand,pressure to win for bothpressure to impress. A ball will bounce; but less and less. Cried and yelled at the moonand crushed nightmaresDrank together and helped each otherback to bed. A 93rd minute winner ensures the days before the next game are filled with hope, a thumping defeat fills hearts with despair. 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. The Laughter and Love anon A poem reflecting how the deceased always filled a room with laughter and love.My Funny Friend anon A poem for a very specific character of person, who was funny, weird and kind all at once.Pardon Me For Not Getting Up Kelly Roper A humorous message from the deceased to the mourning. Poems for those who had a passion for butterfly collecting and breeding, or just enjoyed watching them flutter by. Where the azure of the heavensMeets the undulating blue,Where the sweeping, soaring seagullFlies its endless quest for food.It is there that I would rest,When my work on earth is done,At the endless blue horizonNeath the crimson, setting sun. A ball point pen just wouldnt do That really is the case For I would be at quite a loss If I could not erase! Three weeks after her death,a stranger entered the salonand settled in the chair.She had the colour and shapeof his mothers hair,and when he sunk his hands in it,the texture, even cowlicks,individual as frecklessame.Twice he had to leave the room,and twice, he returnedstill,when he touched her hair, it blurred.Hold still, he said, hold still. Poems for those who enjoyed the art of bell ringing, or who simply enjoyed the sound of church bells. Another day has come again,As time moved surely on But nothing now seems quite the same,To know that he is gone.The days and weeks and months aheadWill never be the same Because a treasure beyond wordsCan never be replaced. and play the game!") mourned the tragedy of war through the metaphor of schoolboy cricket and he came to resent the poem's use in propaganda . As I look into your little boys eyes, I know I have to carry onso I can tell him about his mom. These poems are brief and express your feelings in few but powerful words. Both paths tell a storyThat waves may wash away;As long as we have the memoryThey live with us each day. I pray that my side score quick runsAnd our opponents falter,And if it comes to pass we lose,I pray the games a belter. Stalactites hang from abovetheir beauty alone is enoughwalls covered in draperiesmillions of years of Earths memories. And although this pain is painful,And I really dont wanna let you go.Ill wait for death to take me Nan,So we can together one day glow. They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. I hope youre dancing in the skyAnd I hope youre singing in the angels choirAnd I hope the angels know what they haveIll bet its so nice up in heaven since you arrivedI hope you are dancing in the sky. My partners a dope and Im losing all hope.And when s/he says double I know were in trouble.My points are not high and Im wondering whyS/he kept on bidding right up to the sky. 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. A flame of great power starts within ones heart and soul and mind,That pushes every man to a breaking point so that improvement he will find,Martial arts is more than the art of combat or disarming a gun or knife,Martial arts is food for the mind body and soul, martial arts is a way of life! The boxer stands with his gloves at the readyHis gait sure and steadyHis eyes aware and to the foreHis mind on the bout and nothing more, But deep within, and on his face writtenAre the many scars of a life hard-bittenAnd while neer shy of a hard-fought fightThere is no longer within the feeling of delight, His face has too oft been made to payBy an opponent better on the dayAnd though within beats the heart of a lionHis poor pummelled body has given up tryin, And while a fighter to his very coreJust the smell of gloves now he does abhorYet, still he stands, eyes puffed and blood galoreStill ready to wage a pugilists war. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,The flying cloud, the frosty light:The year is dying in the night;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Brothers to the left of meSisters to the rightThats the way we ate dinnerEvery single night. Your memory will not fade awayTo muted tones of black and white. On the ashes of our Baseball Ground. My mind has ways of taking mewhere I dont want to go.I know I know you name, you see;Just right now its hard for meto think of things I really knowand to know what really is,and what may not be so. Farewell to Middle-earth at last.I see the Star above my mast! I Am A Martial Artist Karen Eden A poem about the pride and courage needed for various forms of martial art.Karate Is A Quiet Art Mark Gregory A reflection upon karate as a journey of self-discipline.Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art Daya Nandan A poem about the richness of martial arts.The Warriors Spirit Mark Gregory A poem about the strong, bold spirit of a fighter and warrior. She tumbles on the floor with art,Her movements swift and sure,Her strength and flexibility,So wonderful, so pure. You can click on a topic of interest, and youll then find a collection of readings on that topic and a short summary of each, and you can click or scroll again to be taken to the full text. Be and bebetter. Haiku I wrote whilst out at some live jazz back in October, when it was warm enough for crickets. Do love that Roy Harper song though. Therell be many destinationsSome are happy, some are sadEach one a brief reminderOf the great times that weve had. The warmth of your lovewas like the steam risingfrom a freshly brewed cupof coffeeinvigorating,comforting,and with every sipI felt more alive. There were times I tried to fight them,There was a time I nearly won,But they came back and overpowered me,I had nowhere left to run. Then as time gently passes by,And comfort soothes your sorrow,Like flowers youll find, new memories bloom,To brighten your tomorrow. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime. Theres a picture I cant look away fromWith simplicity of your innocence.Theres a picture of what love can becomeWith simplicity, strength and elegance. The parents in the middle though,cant share this special caring,Its just for us, my Gran and I,adventures we are sharing,And even if my situations bad,my Gran is not deterred,What is it about a Grandmother?I think Love must be the word! And now I have another child,perfect in every way;I know Ive seen that smile before,and this time, its here to stay. Required fields are marked *. Closer, the bowlers arm swept down, Whats with this ballThat they could kick so high?It meant the worldTo you and them, so why? We shared ourBirthdaySince I was five.My wish now will beTo have you back healthyAnd alive. Fortifying The Spirits - Michael Ashby - A humorous poem . To say it loud was helpful,and although quite absurd,we kept repeating time againthat same annoying word. Guided by the Lonely Star,beyond the utmost harbour-bar,Ill find the heavens fair and free,and beaches of the Starlit Sea.Ship, my ship! Toes taped so tightlySmiling big and brightlyRed lipstick adding to her beautyThe dancer moves so smoothly. 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. They took away my freedom,They took away my choice,And when they got their hooks in,You could hear it in my voice. If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, dont deal in lies,Or being hated, dont give way to hating,And yet dont look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dreamand not make dreams your master;If you can thinkand not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth youve spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: Hold on!. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. You were a loving, caring granddad.You were there for me a lot.You will always hold a place in my heart,A loving, treasured spot. No grand schemes,They passed me by.I knew the brook,The hills, the sky. I imagine you dancingSkipping among the cloudsHappily singing with the angelsLooking down upon the crowds. But I am a man who loves his jobAnd the life I live. Time for me to go now, I wont say goodbye;Look for me in rainbows, way up in the sky.In the morning sunrise when all the world is new,Just look for me and love me, as you know I loved you.Time for me to leave you, I wont say goodbye;Look for me in rainbows, high up in the sky.In the evening sunset, when all the world is through,Just look for me and love me, and Ill be close to you.It wont be forever, the day will come and thenMy loving arms will hold you, when we meet again. Im all the jobs rolled into one:Host, therapist, friend.I give the people what they want;Im basically a godsend. Sweetheart, I love youBut I cannot bind you to meI see the longing in your eyeswhile you are watching these mountainsthose sunsets. We rubbed our chins and scratched our heads just what did it mean?Try menacing, or angry,or something in between? Funeral Poems For Cricketers "A Cricketer's Last Boundary" A CRICKETER'S LAST BOUNDARY Weeping willows formed an honour guard For the cricket ball writ with a noble name A team of ten, which had once been eleven Would never be the same side again No bails united the forlorn stumps Since this wicket had fallen some days ago Then as the leaves tumbleRemember me as a crimson jewelAs we allcarryon, humble,Until the cows come home. enter an oceanfeeling insignificant,overwhelmed by its enormity. Fossils Peter Cullen A thought-provoking poem perhaps equating physical fossils to memories of the dead.Old Bones and Stones Mark Gregory A first-person poem about a passion for fossils and an acceptance of death.A Story Of The Past Charles Sternberg The first four stanzas of Sternbergs poem about finding God in fossil-hunting. Iron horses, hundreds strong,Come thundring through the gate;Sleeping souls on notice, fallenBiker nears his fate. Martial arts is so much more than just a fighting art:It strengthens one spiritually by connecting the soul and heart,Martial arts does more than strengthening the mind, body and soul,It teaches you discipline, lessons to keep emotions under control. This isnt how it was supposed to be!The world carries on like nothing has happened, but not me. All The Worlds A Stage William Shakespeare A verse which summarises the whole span of human life in a few lines.The Last Call Michael Ashby A short verse originally dedicated to Richard Briers.Our Revels Now Are Ended William Shakespeare An extract from The Tempest by one of the greats. Invented one day by a guy named Webb How do go "I have a. The path tightens,the corridors wind and weavemysterious sounds frightenseeing the magic others see. Then at the very endWhen they were on their kneesYou still walked tallAnd like your matesYou claimed to take it allThe penalty and the strike,your wayThe win that set your heart aflameThe game, the pitch, the offside ruleThe love that took your heartYour final match at home your ball. I dont give a jot!Ive railed and Ive raved since my dotage beganIts my privilege, cos Im a grumpy old man. In the darkness of the theatreWhere the screen would light up brightThey found solace, joy, and comfortIn the stories that played each night. We pull out the chairs for whomever dares,The drinks and munchies set to spare,We argue over who will sit and where,And who will interpret the rules in despair. From the first time that you hold em,Through every time you scold em,And every soiled nappy that youve changed,From all the crap you saw,They will always dish out more,Its just the way that children are arranged. 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. Rest now my fallen brotherLay soft your suffering backRest well and foreverYour memory shall not lackRest your tired handsWipe clean your weary browRest with St. FlorianYour spirit now endowedRest here your breaking heartWe know you gave your allRest easy, youve done your partYouve answered your last callRest knowing that in god we soughtOh lord, watch over another who just fellRest assured your troubled thoughtAs we ring the final bell. 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. They say I walk with ease.Though trained for bodily harm, my intentions are for peace.The world may come and go, but a different path Ill choose.A path I will not stray from, no matter, win or lose. Popular funeral poems and readings. Bird feels the enchantment of his wingand in ten fine notes dispels twenty cares.Bells in the town alight with springWarble the praise of time, for he can bringthis season: chimes the merry heaven bearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. 6. Time just keeps moving onMany years have come and goneBut I grow older without regretMy hopes are in what may come yet.On the farm I work each dayThis is where I wish to stayI watch the seeds each season sproutFrom the soil as the plants rise out.I study Nature and I learnTo know the earth and feel her turnI love her dearly and all the seasonsFor I have learned her secret reasons.All that will live is in the bosom of EarthShe is the loving mother of all birthBut all that lives must pass awayAnd go back again to her someday.My life too will pass from EarthBut do not grieve, I say, there will be other birthWhen my body is old and all spentAnd my soul to Heaven has went.Please compost and spread me on this plainSo my body Mother Earth can claimThat is where I wish to beThen Nature can nourish new life with me.So do not for me grieve and weepI did not leave, I only sleepI am with the soil here belowWhere I can nourish life of beauty and glow.Here I can help the falling rainGrow golden fields of ripening grainFrom here I can join the winds that blowAnd meet the softly falling snow.Here I can help the suns warming lightGrow food for birds of gliding flightI can be in the beautiful flowers of springAnd in every other lovely thing.So do not for me weep and cryI am here, I do not die. When youre lost, when youre alone,and you can see nothing but the darkness,when the shadowy fingers of night reach out,to envelope you in their icy embrace,till every breath only causes you pain,and despair is your only loyal companion. Best Rugby Poems. A Dad is a person, who is loving and kind,And often he knows what you have on your mind.Hes someone who listens, suggests, and defendsA dad can be one of your very best friends!Hes proud of your triumphs, but when things go wrong,A dad can be patient and helpful and strong.In all that you do, a dads love plays a partTheres always a place for him deep in your heartAnd each year that passes, youre even more glad,More grateful and proud just to call him your dad!Thank you Dad, for listening and caring,for giving and sharing, but, especially, for just being you! Though we never knowWhere life will take us,I know its just a rideOn the wheel.And we never knowWhen death will shake usAnd we wonder howIt will feel.So Goodbye my friend.I know Ill never see you again.But the time togetherThrough all the years,Will take away these tears.Its OK now Goodbye my friend.I see a lot of thingsThat make me crazy,And I guess I held on to you,You could have run awayAnd left well maybe,But it wasnt timeAnd we both knew.So Goodbye My friend.I know Ill never see you again.But the love you gave meThrough all the yearsWill take away these tears.Im OK now Goodbye my friend. All the worlds a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances;And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages. And bayberry, that through sweet bevies thread. Post author: Post published: June 8, 2022; Post category: what happened after mao zedong died; Post comments: . It was a heaven houseThe books were there, and so were people whoLoved reading them, and that is all that matters. all is alive,all dances on through time and space,so find the highest tastein all thingson your journeyinto love. How to Seal your Memorial Charm Jewellery, Biodegradable Urns for the Sea, Lake or River. Whats with this gameThat made you feel so high?Was it your teamYour matesThe offside trapAnd then that lousy shoot-outNearly made you cry? Im just a little angel but my time was not in vain.As dark clouds that surround you give way unto the sun,My precious parents you will see that any heart will sing,If only for a moment it is brushed by angel wings. Ive grown up with your values,And Im very glad I did;So heres to you, dear father,From your forever grateful kid. Keeping the attendees engaged with a brief but heartfelt poem can be a good way to make. extract from The Tempest by William Shakespeare. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep. Eternal rocks will form my tomb,Sand my quilt shall be,Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,And Ill become one with the sea. what day does pilot flying j pay; western power distribution. Trees by Joyce Kilmer. I was here, I used it all,and now I am at peace. The slapping of my leathersand raging winds on either side,drum a beat of sweet contentmentas I ride this, my last ride. I seek the West,and fields and mountains ever blest. Of round . Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. Ballerinas Poem Miranda Snow A poem about the utter perfection required when performing ballet.Dance Of Life David Harris A poem comparing each and every day to a different style of dance.Dance With The Waves Christy Ann Martine A very short poem perfect for a committal or scattering of ashes at sea.Dancing In The Sky Elizabeth and Danielle Hyde A slightly religious poem about dancing in heaven.I Imagine You Dancing Tanya Lord A poem reflecting the hopes of a happy, dance-filled life after death. She loved to pop out for a walk or a stroll,But illness and age in the end took its tollHer passing will leave in our lives a great hole,Shell be missed as a wonderfully generous soul. A trip to the Ring, its all part of the gameto lay down a tenner on the horse with the namethat sounds like a winner, a worthwhile betbut tarry no longer, well miss the jet set. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). Closer, the bowler's arm swept down, The ball swung, swerved and darted, Stump and bail flashed and flew; The batsman pensively departed. Cricket, Lovely Cricket By Kwame Dawes Sometimes living in America is like living in a bubble. All Internet links/videos/pictures in here ONLY, Optical equipment repair and refurbishment as a hobby. 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. And if the way grows darker still,Shadowed by Sorrows sombre wing,With glad defiance in my throat,I pierce the darkness with a note,And sing, and sing. And the white light warmed him andnurtured him andfed him great peace. But a heaven is easier made of nothing at allThan the earth regained, and still and sole withinThe spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and nobleHe reels that heaven in,Landing it ball by ball,And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table.