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. Poems for those who discovered a love of dance, either watching or participating, throughout their life. Please smile and do not shed a tear, wipe away that silly frown,Im off upon that final ride, another Biker who has gone down. Foster A poem for a child born with a disability who is lost to the world too soon. One, two, three, four,Heels click down on the catwalk floor.Five, six, seven, eight,Head held high and back dead straight. Hegot into competition,but didnt really trust it,and the main games of life allseemed rigged, one wayor another. I do not think my song will endWhile flowers, grass and treesAbound with birds and butterfliesFor I am one with these. One, two, three, four,A designer now, fashions in my core,Five, six, seven, eight,Theres plenty of work still on my plate. enter an oceanfeeling insignificant,overwhelmed by its enormity. Villanelle Of Spring BellsBells in the town alight with springconverse, with a concordance of new airsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. Poems for those who were avid football fans or skilled football players. Twilight and evening bell,And after that the dark!And may there be no sadness of farewell,When I embark. To see you change has made me sad,But it cannot change the love weve had. Poems for those people who enjoyed collecting fossils, or, indeed, were amateur or professional palaeontologists. Their quiet heart, a noble trait,That listened well, would sit and wait,A steady hand, a patient soul,That brought us peace, and made us whole. The Travelers Rest always welcomes departeddrinkersWith a warm smile and a kindly nodYoull never have to put your hand in your pocket againBecause this really is a free house, thank God. The Funeral Bell Francis Duggan A sombre poem about the feelings that arise upon hearing a funeral bell.Ring Out, Wild Bells Alfred Lord Tennyson A wonderful piece about ringing out the bad and ringing in the good.Villanelle Of Bells Keith Douglas A lengthy but beautifully poetic piece about bells guiding our way in life. It broke our hearts to lose you,You did not go alone,For part of us went with you,the day God called you home. We light this candle that your light may always shineWith the love that you gave to us all. 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. As kids, we lived togetherWe fought, we laughed, we cried.We did not always show the love,that we both had inside.We shared our dreams and plans,and some secrets too.All the memories we share,Is what bonds me now to you.We grew to find we have a lovethat is very strong today.Its a love shared by our family,that will never fade away.You are my brother not by choice,but by the nature of our birthI could not have chosen a better oneyou were the best on earth. Its fun and its laughterIts planning and strategyBut most of all, its you and me.We laugh, we cheer, we argue a few,but this is a memory made anew. Dementia came and took you away,From your family and your friends.It left your mind in turmoil,Until the very end. A Boy and His Dad by Edgar A. The last time he cut his mothers hairthe rude morning sunleft no corner of her kitchen private,the light surgically cleanwhere it fell on his scissors.Her hair fell in a blonde circleon the lake blue tilesmell of coffeeand cinnamon; her laughingshook her head, Hold still, he said,his hands surfeit with the curland softness of her hair. When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,He was a man who used to notice such things? Too many to paste into the thread, enjoy! Little rattle of dry seeds in pods, Whenever Im upset I know yourethere with a shoulder to cry on.Whenever I face a problem and need some helpI know you are one I can rely on. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. and fought to the last breath. The Darkness Of The Theatre Mark Gregory A fitting poem for someone who loved watching movies at the cinema.Funeral Blues W. H. Auden The now famous poem thanks to its recital in the film Four Weddings and a Funeral.O Me! Your labor is done, your home now is heaven; no more must you wait,Your legacy lives on, your love of the land, and we will close the gate. I want to take away all of your pain.I want to give you sunshine in the rain. Use code HELLO54 when you join us as a print or digital member and your membership will be half price for the first year. Our Alley,who art in BowlingHallowed by thy lanesThy strikes will comeThy will be doneOn approach as it is on releaseGive us this game our weekly bowling nightAnd forgive us our splitsAs we forgive thoseWho excessively celebrate against us.Lead us not into the gutterBut deliver us from the ten pin.For ever and EverBowl Men. In my kayak I find peaceOn the water, all is calmThe rhythm of the paddles releaseAll the stress and all the qualms. Some travel afar, others stay nearbySome pedal fast, some slowBut in common with the lot of usIs the desire to just go. A Poem for Mother. The water was hot and steaming,The tea was fresh and new.I took a sip, and closed my eyes,And all my worries flew. Popular funeral poems and readings. The Driver Graeme Cook A gorgeous poem for those who felt at one with their car, rather than merely driving it.Fast Car Jamie Blake A hectic poem ideal for some who drove fast and perhaps passed away in a motoring accident.Racing Car Poem Martin Dejnicki A poem about racing, perhaps Formula 1, and the adrenaline rush it produces.Whos Driving This Car? Theres food down my shirt-front and some in my beardCos I eat off my knee and I dont think its weird;When I lounge in my armchair while watching the tellyAnd my food drips unheeded all over my bellyIts a trait of the aged from here to Japan;A perk just for being a grumpy old man. 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 . Who was that man, you may well ask?To tell you now is my last task.It makes me proud, it makes me glad,To tell you that man, he was my dad. BINGO! Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. And those tear-arse young drivers who must overtakeThen go at speeds lower than I want to make.No tail-gating for me, and I dont use my horn,But I heartily wish that theyd never been bornAnd I see Hades open to eat car or van;That did it, because Im a grumpy old man. The best description of a cricket match in my opinion is in England, Their England, written by A G McDonnell. So go, my loveClimb that mountain in the sunsetI will watch you with a smileand eternal lovein my heart. Time flies like an arrow .. fruit flies like a banana. The lazy float that controls the boatAnd makes the swing quite true,And gives that rest that the oarsman blestAs he drives the blade right through. I loved when that engine rumbled,And the biker friends who rode with me, would help me when I stumbled.You are amongst my dearest friends, brothers and sisters of the road,Weve travelled many miles together, shared many heavy loads. For you may findWhen you clear the hilly topThat the brakes of life may seizeAnd take you to a messy stop. 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. The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes,Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins.Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies-I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise. One popular poem, Dylan Thomas' " Do not go gentle into that good night ," talks about the unstoppable nature of death and how we can challenge the way we face death. The archer and his bowWithout each other are nothing,But when they come togetherThey become quite something. MORE THYME! Fly, fly do not fearDont waste a breath, dont shed a tearYour heart is pure, your soul is freeBe on your way, dont wait for meAbove the universe youll climbOn beyond the hands of timeThe moon will rise, the sun will setBut I wont forget. 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. I know an old tradesman who worked with sand and cement.Now the story I am going to tell you turned out to be his lament.His work was done to perfection built from row to row,and he was the very best brickie, the best you will ever know. Its all these thingsand so much more,so dont stress.If you lived your lifeWild-n-free,Then its been a success. Aunts have no wands or wings,So they work with wisdom, love, and things.Having taken on this role,You loved me right down to my soul. You loved the roaring of the crowd,The rush of victory,You loved the sweat, the tears, the toil,The adrenaline, so sweet. Dont weep at my grave,For I am not there.Ive a date with a butterflyTo dance in the air.Ill be singing in the sunshine,Wild and free,Playing tag with the windWhile Im waiting for thee. Rabbits, hamsters, gerbils, and birdsDogs, and cats, and everything furredAn interest in creatures in others she stirredAnd through illness, she went on, undeterred. 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 ball swung, swerved and darted, BINGO, I shout, its my timeI finally got to complete that line! Over'? For the cricket ball writ with a noble name, A team of ten, which had once been eleven, Since this wicket had fallen some days ago, And as the bowler delivered to the lone batsman, The cricketer crossing the last boundary, To a third innings that would forever last. Heartfelt memories of a daughterwhose love was sweet and pure,to lose someone so preciousis a pain thats hard to endure. Like the car he drives,He will pass you in the fast lane of life,Like the blaring music from his car,He loves life and a good joke,Like the roaring engine of his car,His temper will take off like a racer to the finish line,With his fast car he ran straight through everyones heart,When his engine went he went along with his fast car to heaven,Going fast as he could down the road of eternal sleep,While he lies in his eternal sleep never to wake his fast car lies with him! "You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted." Floral Tribute, which has been distributed by Armitage's publisher, Faber, is a double acrostic . Be and bebetter. When we kids were hurt or cryingWed run to find her lapShed wipe the falling tears awayWith a bit of apron flap. city of san diego street classification map; blackrock russell 2000 index fund g1; 3610 atlantic ave, long beach, ca 90807; eternal water heater lawsuit; A series of fortunate events July 20, 2020. The audience is waitingFamiliar faces all aroundOnce again the baton strikesAnd I hear that familiar sound. The empty spots beckon; They yearn to be filled And if Im successful Im quietly thrilled. 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. I know how much you wish Id stayedI feel so very blessedOf all the people to have in my worldI got the very best. Patti Masterman A poem about being grateful that your body lasted as long as it did. Poems for those who loved building and rebuilding marvellous creations with those famous little bricks. 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. MORE THYME! When the long, dark night is overAnd heaven begins its reignI promise you my darlingI will see you again. I . Eyes the shady night has shutCannot see the record cut,And silence sounds no worse than cheersAfter earth has stopped the ears. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.I have kissed young love on the lips, I have heard her song to the end.I have struck my hand like a seal in the loyal hand of a friend.I have known the peace of heaven, the comfort of work done well.I have longed for death in the darkness and risen alive out of hell. And now as we gather,To say goodbye to you,Well raise a cup of coffee,And honour all youve been through. The worlds a little quieter nowThe colours have lost their hueThe birds are singing softlyAnd our hearts are missing you. Their quiet heart, a guiding light,That shone in darkness, pure and bright,A gentle voice, a calming breeze,That whispered peace, and brought us ease. IM driving this thing, and this car is ME,And its all worn out, but I made it work. [Person] is now the brightest star in our sky tonight burning on, with a flame dimmed with sadness and sorrow for us still here.The stars are watching us. I cant stand the hassle, I cant stand the painIm getting those bad cards again and again.So Im giving up bridge Tonights a bad night.Declarer is horrid and nothings going right. 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. Cricket poems by Wilson, George Francis. The Boxer Ross Dix-Peek A poem telling the tale of a physicially worn-out boxer whose mind is still sharp and agile.I Am The Greatest Cassius Clay Muhammed Alis famous poem from the 1960s.Poem for a Boxer At Rest Gabrielle Tinti A poem originally in Italian about a boxer who has fought his last fight. 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. I am a sailor, youre my first mate,We signed on together, we coupled our fate,Hauled up our anchor, determined not to fail,For the hearts treasure, together we set sail. And a digital membership where you can read all the digital magazines is normally 25, and now 12.50 with the code. 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! anon A humorous poem about the desire to be buried in a way befitting a cyclist.O Magic Wheel N. P. Tyler A poem from 1879 with wonderful rhythm and rhyme perfect for a cyclist.Passion For Cycling Sidney Beck A poem about the sights and smells of a coast-to-coast cycle. 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. Toes taped so tightlySmiling big and brightlyRed lipstick adding to her beautyThe dancer moves so smoothly. 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. Your angels share is there to be asked forOf the malt whisky escaped from oak casksYou can savour a peaty Macallan 46For a drink that will forever last. The times you saved a structure, a lifeor doing the unthinkable, you were there. Beyond anon A short verse signalling the hope that beyond the bad emotions there is peace and forgiveness.Dont Judge Me Kathleen Wilson A lament on behalf of someone who may have felt outcast or unaccepted.If I Had A Voice Caroline Wilkes A verse apologising for not always being the best person one could be.Time Will Ease The Hurt Bruce B Wilmer A verse suggesting that time helps painful memories fade away.When I Come To The End Mrs Lyman Hancock A verse urging mourners to remember the deceased at their best. 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. Just wish me to be near you,And Ill be there with you. Inner pages (if required) are printed on high quality 120gsm white bond. She might have carried eggs in from the chicken coop outside.Whatever chore she used it for, she did them all with pride.When Grandma went to heaven, God said she now could rest.Im sure the apron that she chose, was her Sunday best. Because your heart was simply gold,What a shame, you werent that old,Gone now for good, not good youve gone,Our memories will linger on. With no maps to guide us we steered our own course,Rode out the storms when the winds were gale force,Sat out the doldrums in patience and hope:Working together we learned how to cope. Feels good as chain clunks from one socket to the next and the ticking whirring of freewheel and zipping noise of fast tires on flat asphalt. I here profess my strong beliefIn my revealed Lord;Ive found Him in the rocky leaf,And his inspired word. Grandmas quilts were always there,A comforting, colourful sight,A source of warmth and motherly love,On cold and lonely nights. Near a shady wall a rose once grew,Budded and blossomed in Gods free light,Watered and fed by the morning dew,Shedding its sweetness day and night.As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,Slowly rising to loftier height,It came to a crevice in the wallThrough which there shone a beam of light.Onward it crept with added strengthWith never a thought of fear or pride,It followed the light through the crevices lengthAnd unfolded itself on the other side.The light, the dew, the broadening viewWere found the same as they were before,And it lost itself in beauties new,Breathing its fragrance more and more.Shall claim of death cause us to grieveAnd make our courage faint and fall?Nay! Weve travelled miles upon this earthWithout home behind the carThe fun and laughter we have sharedAs we travelled long and far. I cannot say. We dance and we dance,each day through.Everyday to a different tune,just to get us through. And rumble off to clubhouse forA changing of the brew;Black vests in formationfastand tighta loud tribute. We never had the chance to play,To laugh, to rock, to wiggle.We long to hold you, touch you nowAnd listen to you giggle. The warriors spirit is like a flameThat burns so bright, lighting the wayAnd its fire will always remainIn the hearts of those who train each day. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. Golf tees on my dresserGolf tees in my bedGolf tees on my pillowsWhere they poke me in my head.Golf tees in my closetFalling from my shirts and pantsGolf tees along the baseboardsJust like army ants.Golf tees in the carpetAnd underneath my feetGolf tees lined up on the mantleOh, they look so neat.Golf tees in my couchAnd in my back and thighsWhen I sit and watch TVI feel those little guys.Golf tees in the kitchenIn Jurassic coffee mugsSometimes when I pass themThey look like prehistoric bugs.Golf tees in the bathtubLike sailors on plastic shipsGolf tee in her make upLike little bald q tips.Golf tees in the atticGolf tees in the shedGolf tees, golf tees everywhereI wonder where they bred.Golf tees out the backdoorLike Hansel and Gretels trailsGolf tees in the flowerbedsAmong the mulch and snails.Golf tees in my carAnd underneath the matsGolf tees in the backseatLike little baseball bats.But when I am at the golf courseI ask my partner, like a louseMay I borrow some of your tees?I left mine at the house!, I really am a golfer And let me tell you whyIts only when I swing a club I really feel aliveI really am a golferAnd take my driver outI swing my club and hit the ballAs hard as I have mightI really am a golferMy ball is in the roughI swing my metal 3 real hardTo find the grass is toughI really am a golferMy ball goes 50 feetIts out the rough and in the sandAnd buried very deepI really am a golferI take my sand wedge outI open up the face of itAnd swing it with a cloutI really am a golferMy ball is on the greenI swing the putter in an arcWith boggy on the seenI really am a golferMy put goes 10ft pastIm looking at a doubleBut the green is just too fastI really am a golferThe balls beside the cupI make it in the centreAnd my friends they call it luck, by Criswell Freeman(final verse by Mark Gregory), Life is like a round of golf,with many twists and turnsBut the game is much too sweet and short,to curse the shots youve missed, Sometimes youll hit it straight and far,sometimes the puts run trueBut each round has its wayward shots,and troubles to play through, So always swing with heart and courage,no matter what the lieAnd never let the hazardsdestroy the joy inside. A Redevelopment Update, NBD: Last Tarvo 2, Specialized Tero X, Crankbros Mallet Trail, This topic has 9 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated. Let the beer flow steadily and the wine pour right,Make the cider fizz lightly and the cocktails look bright,May the bar remain clean and the floor vomit-free,And please, let there be no trouble for me. by only me is your doing, my darling) I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant. Watch it sink into the hairthe chiseled point will disappearanother sip of ale to bootgame set matchthe point is moot. Luther F. Beecher. But Im giving up bridge Tonights my last night. O you are not lying in the wet clay,For it is harvest evening now and weAre piling up the ricks against the moonlightAnd you smile up at us eternally. The bodys anatomy and physiology, the minds psychology must be knownBy a fighter in order for the perfect execution of a technique to be shownMartial arts is a pursue of knowledge, many things that one must learn,So the hidden swirling potential within gets drawn out to burn. Ring in the valiant man and free,The larger heart, the kindlier hand;Ring out the darkness of the land,Ring in the Christ that is to be. The instruments played this salutationTo amusicianof note and much moreAt the end, everyone stamped their feetEncore, Encore, Encore! The steely spring and the musical ringOf the blade with the biting grip,The stretching draw of the bending oarThat rounds the turn with a whip. But such a tide as moving seems asleep,Too full for sound and foam,When that which drew from out the boundless deepTurns again home! (New annually renewing membership only. They are too far away for us to touch, just as [s]he has gone somewhere we cannot follow until our own star-time comes.The stars cannot be held close for comfort, just as we can no longer hold him/her close but the stars will burn forever.One day, our own star-time will come, and our spirit will soar into the sky to burn with all those lovely family and friends who have gone before us.On the inky cloth of space, we will be reunited in constellations of joy.Until then, our own flame burns low and dim and cold without you.
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