Hello there, Granddad.Its me, your little man,I couldnt find you yesterday,When I came to visit Nan. Do not lose your patience with me,Do not scold or curse or cry.I cant help the way Im acting,Cant be different, though I try. If someone had to describe you, so many words come to mind.Beauty and grace, a heart so kind. I have always neededthe solace of storiesthe companionship of charactersthe escape of other worldsthe wisdom of wordsthe guidance of good writing. Cave of wonderscaverns so deepthrough vast rooms I wanderso many secrets to keep. It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,Though my own red roses there may blow;It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast,And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost,And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping hostAs the run-stealers flicker to and fro,To and fro;O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago! He put his arms around youAnd lifted you to rest.Gods garden must be beautiful,He always takes the best. So now its time for restingIve passed the winners lineThink of me, a winning ticketAnd how I lived this life of mine. You know right from wrong.You are the melody from a beautiful love song. Below are the all-time best Rugby poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slipperd pantaloon,With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;His youthful hose, well savd, a world too wideFor his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,Turning again toward childish treble, pipesAnd whistles in his sound. 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. So sleep now with the angels,And your golden heart let rest.Although our hearts are broken,We know God took the best. Our Memories Build A Special Bridge Emily Matthews A verse highlighting the importance of memories. Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. This is one. After the night, the morning, bidding all darkness cease, In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,Many hours had he spent while a boy;And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to knowAnd to share both his grief and his joy,For it struck 24 when he entered at the doorWith a blooming and beautiful bride;But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died. One, two, three,Dont cry for me,Four, five, sixIve had my kicks. and fought to the last breath. Some Folk Pam Nelson A poem reflecting on how a person made everyone around them feel special and loved. Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,If its only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden. 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! A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime. Excludes Gift Memberships, Discount applies to first year. Afterglow - Helen Lowrie Marshall The archer and his bowCelebrate victory!The greatest of allThe archers in history. Our memories build a special bridgeWhen loved ones have to partTo help us feel were with them stillAnd soothe a grieving heart.They span the years and warm our livesPreserving ties that bind;Our memories build a special bridgeAnd bring us peace of mind. 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. Another Biker Who Has Gone Down Connie Starren A poem lamenting the loss of another avid biker.The Big Plan Gunnar Hassenplug A humorous poem about a bikers plan to get into heaven without an invite!A Biker Funeral anon A vivid description of a biker funeral with plenty of suitable metaphors.His Journey Goes On Joe Eliston A sombre but hopeful poem highlighting the importance of the journey of life.I Ride Alone Graeme Cook A fierce poem for a fallen motorcycling companion.My Last Ride anon A slightly religious poem about a bikers last ride to heaven.We Ride As One anon A poem lamenting the loss of riders past and present. Every gambler knowsThat the secret to survivinIs knowin what to throw awayAnd knowin what to keepCause every hands a winnerAnd every hands a loserAnd the best that you can hope forIs to die in your sleep.. You can also find an index of topics at the top of this page. He tends the flowers with loving care,And prunes the branches here and there;He weeds the beds and mends the fences,And gathers up the fallen senses. The archer and his bowCannot be torn apart;For shot after shotThey share the same heart. 20+ Most Popular Funeral Poems - Heavenly Doves So dance beyond those golden gates,And join your loving mum.Ill see you when Im sleeping,And pray for you to come. You ran with grace and strength all game,Your footwork swift and sure,Scored goals with ease and utmost grace,Brought joy to all who saw. 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. A year feeling so lonely and blueSince the unspeakable day I lost youIm here because friends said I must tryLetting go and waving the tears goodbye. Of all the friendsIve ever met,Youre the oneI wont forget. of the questions of these recurring,Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filld with the foolish,Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless? Love is like a game of cards,you win, you pass, you lose.Life is like a poker game,depends which bluff you choose. As Stevie Bloomer watches down. 36 Funeral Poems - my | Farewelling 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. radcliff ky city council candidates 2020 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. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stay,And early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry. Crouching down low, I wait for the starters gunBang! Himself against himself, he ever setsHis knights, pawns, castles in a proud array;His soul the stake he on the issue bets Too great a prize to risk in thoughtless play. The world may never noticeIf a Snowdrop doesnt bloom,Or even pause to wonderIf the petals fall too soon. Required fields are marked *. 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! In life, they loved their family, With a love that knew no bounds, Their heart was filled with joy and pride, When their loved ones were around. 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. When you decide to call me LordIn Your special way,Could there be a team one player shortWho might ask me to play? So heres to you, from all your fans,A legend of the game;We thank you for the memories Football will never be the same. 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 those who really enjoyed a cup of tea and the inner peace and warmth that it brought with it. So be kind to your partners and dont mind their cheek.For its only a game Oh! I am the last barman poet,I see America drinking the fabulous cocktails I make,Americans getting stinky on something I stir or shake,The Sex on the Beach, the schnapps made from peach,The Velvet Hammer, The Alabama Slammer,I make things with juice and froth,The Pink Squirrel, the 3-toed Sloth,I make drinks so sweat and snazzy,The Iced Tea, the Kamikazi,The Orgasm, the Death Spasm,The Singapore Sling,The Dingaling.America youve just been devoted to every flavor I got,But if you want to got loaded,Why dont you just order a shot?Bar is open. The NHS Overused? Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings. 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. - Navjot Sidhu 8 0 Add a comment Dad was an avid cricket fan and we wanted something appropriate for him to read. Pause in their dance and break the ring for me; Dim, shady wood-roads, redolent of fern. The fences have all been mended. So long as love and hope and dreamsAbide in earth and sky,Weep not for me, though I be gone.I shall not really die. A Drinking Song - W. B. Yeats - a short verse pondering over the role of wine and love in life. They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelids soundless blink,The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alightUpon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,To him this must have been a familiar sight., If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,One may say, He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.. The audience is waitingFamiliar faces all aroundOnce again the baton strikesAnd I hear that familiar sound. And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. And should you think of me,think of me dragon freeupon the endless plains,immersed in a new story,in deepest fascination playing,worlds of music, magic, art,just me,doing me things,and smiling. A faith few possess led your journey through life, often a jagged and stony way,The sun is setting, the cattle are all bedded, and here now is the end of your day. When we kids were hurt or cryingWed run to find her lapShed wipe the falling tears awayWith a bit of apron flap. The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. Some love it for mingling with their upstanding crowdThe drinking, the laughter, the gossip so loudThey arrive at the track wearing yesterdays shoppingFor racing you say, more a spot of Box hopping. This third rose represents your memory.For the times we laughed,The times we cried,The times we were angry with each other,The silly things you did,The caring and joy you gave us. Copyright 2023 Scattering Ashes or original authors | Powered by. Once it was new, best thing on the road,But now its just old; so whos driving this car? Closer, the bowlers arm swept down, People emerge from winter to hear them ring,children glitter with mischief and the blind man hearsbells in the town alight with spring.Even he on his eyes feels the caressingfinger of Persephone, and her voice escaped from tearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. If you can lend a hand, when hand is needed,And with your clubmates, you can take your turn,So, marking, clocking, checking can be speeded,And each and every job you thus will learn.If you can join the throng at payout dinner,And laugh and joke and join in all the fun,And really mean it when you clap each winner,Yet know fulwell that you have nowt to come. A free bird leapson the back of the windand floats downstreamtill the current endsand dips his wingin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky. The speedometer is just a bluras tears blow from my eyes,the bike and I roll forwardoff into the calling skies. Your email address will not be published. And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,Till they rise again, as they were a new bells boom,He hears it not now, but used to notice such things? Poems for those who had a love of candles and incense, or poems that evoke candles and candlelight. Cried and yelled at the moonand crushed nightmaresDrank together and helped each otherback to bed. We will miss each other for awhile,But you will come and bring your smile.That wont be long you will see,Till were together you and me. She loves to sing all kinds of songs.Please tell her that she did no wrong.Would you comfort her and hold her in your arms tight?And tell her she is missed every day and night. Ring out a slowly dying cause,And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life,With sweeter manners, purer laws. Roy Harpers When an old Cricketer leaves the crease has been mentioned. 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!. With great expectation you quietly sitGaining confidence, you smirk a bit.Here it comes, you see the ball,As you anxiously wait to hear the call. Haiku I wrote whilst out at some live jazz back in October, when it was warm enough for crickets. There is a momentIn musical rehearsalWhen all the playersThe choirThe woodwind and brassThe strings and percussionThe entire orchestraStopsAnd there is peace, The conductor says two wordsAnd restVoices cease to singThe woodwind put down oboes and clarinetsThe brass lay down trumpets and trombonesOthers do the sameBecause the music is overThere is no audienceThere is no applauseIn that momentQuietness reignsYet the quiet that followsRemains harmonious, There is a certain silenceA spaceFor reflection and reposeThe music is rememberedAnd so we contemplateThe highsThe lowsThe passage of melodySometimes we feel sadBecause the chordsHave drifted awayFinishedCompleted, Some will feel lossOthers experience reliefAnd others deep sadness, TogetherWe shareThat moment of closureWhen the conductorSaysAnd rest., The musical notes stood in linesDiscordant in their griefBefore regaining their composureAs black tears in embossed relief. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. 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. Long life to her for theres no other,to take the place of my dear mother. Core of my heart, my country!
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