Triumphantly their bodies sing,Their eyes are blindWith music. Poems perfect for those fond of legs eleven and two little ducks in the bingo hall. They would put in the footings then forget to build the wall, and when they did it was neither short nor tall. As Stevie Bloomer watches down. 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. Langston Hughes remarks: As Befits a Man. and cricket pads. When playing darts, it is agreed,A steady hand is what you need. So set, before its echoes fade,The fleet foot on the sill of shade,And hold to the low lintel upThe still-defended challenge-cup. Excludes Gift Memberships, Discount applies to first year. The photograph above was unearthed from the countless images to be found on the web. Those who live long endure sadness and tearsBut youll never suffer the sorrowing yearsNo betrayal, no anger, no hatred, no fearsJust love only love in your lifetime. Alone on my tin pony,to the heavens Ive been called,but fret not my dear loved ones,Im not lonely here at all. Short Funeral Poems Nobody likes long-winded, dry segments at an already dour event like a funeral. He may look at himself and have a new awareness that his body will not last forever. Grandmas quilts held memories,Of bygone days and years,Of loved ones gathered round the hearth,And tales of joy and cheer. He firmly held his bowl in handHis eyes they were unblinking;None could tell what he had plannedOr just what he was thinking.Then slowly down his body wentHis bowl arm was at the readyTo neither side his torso leantHe was so sure and steady. The Trout Brook by Ralph E. McMillin. Anyone can stand by you when you are right,but a true Friend will stand by you even when you are wrong!A simple friend identifies himself when he calls.A real friend doesnt have to.A simple friend opens a conversation with a full news bulletin on his life.A real friend says, Whats new with you?A simple friend thinks the problems you whine about are recent.A real friend says, Youve been whining about the same thing for 14 years.Get off your duff and do something about it.A simple friend has never seen you cry.A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.A simple friend doesnt know your parents first names.A real friend has their phone numbers in his address book.A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.A real friend comes early to help you cook and stays late to help you clean.A simple friend hates it when you call after he has gone to bed.A real friend asks you why you took so long to call.A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.A real friend could blackmail you with it.A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you have an argument.A real friend knows that its not a friendship until after youve had a fight.A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.A real friend expects to always be there for you! Poems for brothers, young and old, loyal and caring, reflecting the nuances of fraternal relationships. Cave of wonderscaverns so deepthrough vast rooms I wanderso many secrets to keep. The seats are saggy from long time use,The rear-views broken; whos driving this car? 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. 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! Having this knowledge makes the fire fighters,our heroesof the past, present and future. Lay lady lay, in crimson and cloverIts been a hard days night, the partys over. 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. anon A poem wondering whether one has done productive or destructive deeds in life. I breathed a song into the air,It fell to earth; I knew not where.For who has sight so keen and strong,That it can follow the flight of song? If I could be there with you, wed laugh and share memories from our past,And this gathering would be just one more tale, another story, not our last.But today I cant be with you, except in heart and memory stores.So, youll have to laugh, remember the past,and then let your engines roar! Crickets Demi, Gods And Villains, by Rajnish Manga A Cricket Sang Good Luck, by Sandra Fowler, Hunter. Poems admitting that the person we have lost wasnt perfect. These are my footprints, so perfect and so small.These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings.These tiny footprints were meant for other things.You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain.Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies lazy dance.Ill let you know Im with you, if you give me just a chance.You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves.I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mummys heart,cause even though Im gone now, well never truly part. Poems reflecting upon the importance of the memories we have of others. One, two, three, four,Much older now, death is at my door,Five, six, seven, eight,Even I cant escape my fate. 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. Poems for those who enjoyed the ebb and flow of angling. Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,Seeking the bubble reputationEven in the cannons mouth. The earth was made so sweet,The sky so fair,For man to cultivateAnd love and wear.But we, alas! Sun will warm the daylight hours;The lighthouse illume the night.Waves provide rhythm and gulls give voice Music to ease my flight. The archer and his bowNever cease to amaze;They are togetherThroughout all days. 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. And all the while Im pouring drinksFor all my treasured punters:Lawyers, doctors, teachers, shrinks,Accountants and headhunters. His was a life full of kindness and heart,He was selfless, private, but always played his partCaring for animals to him was like art,And his example inspired many others to start. 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. For the rock outwears the man,And cruel Time wears out the best,But memories were made upon those stones,Before you were laid to rest. So, if youre searching for a poem for a grandmother, scroll down to G or hit Ctrl+F to find grandmother on this page; this can be done for someone who loved cricket, someone who suffered from Alzheimers, someone who brought laughter into everyones lives, or any other topic you can think of. 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. The Carpenter Paul Warren A poem not about death, but about highlighting the skill and talent of a woodworker.The Carpenter Lives On anon A poem that highlights the legacy of a carpenter in all the things he created.The Chips Are Down Michael Ashby A humorous poem where the carpenter laments not building his own coffin.The Master Carpenter G. E. Nordell A religious poem about a carpenter building a throne for God in heaven. They give all they have and then give more,While helping somebody get through.Its not about thanks or for mention,Its something thats in them they do. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). Guest. Words have that kind of poweryou remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornlyfolded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs. Broken beyond repair? "A Meeting" by Edith Wharton. Of course, you could also write your own. 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. Hegot into competition,but didnt really trust it,and the main games of life allseemed rigged, one wayor another. Where I have goneI am not so small.My soul is as wideAs the world is tall.I have gone to answerThis call, the callOf the one who takesCare of us all.Wherever you look,You will find me there,In the heart of a rose,In the heart of a prayer.On butterflies wings,On wings of my own,To you, Im gone,But Im never alone.Im over the moonI am home. 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 . The worlds a little quieter nowThe colours have lost their hueThe birds are singing softlyAnd our hearts are missing you. 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. When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear. We will all miss your fashion and grace,But our memory of you will never be erased.Rest in peace, our dear lover of fashionForever will live your legacy and passion. Crickets Poems - Modern Award-winning Crickets Poetry : All Poetry Poems / Crickets Poems - The best poetry on the web Flowermuse Follow Feb 14 Haiga 2-14-23B Feb 14, Stan Rodriguez haiga---haiga---springs color crickets Like ( 2) 2 The Lady of Perelen Follow Feb 2 Natural jazz Saxophone grooving with A twilight metronome When I am gone, release me, let me go.I have so many things to see and do,You mustnt tie yourself to me with too many tears,But be thankful we had so many good years.I gave you my love, and you can only guessHow much youve given me in happiness.I thank you for the love that you have shown,But now it is time I travelled on alone.So grieve for me a while, if grieve you mustThen let your grief be comforted by trustThat it is only for a while that we must part,So treasure the memories within your heart.I wont be far away for life goes on.And if you need me, call and I will come.Though you cant see or touch me, I will be nearAnd if you listen with your heart, youll hearAll my love around you soft and clearAnd then, when you come this way alone,Ill greet you with a smile and a Welcome Home. But then, like sunshine, here and goneYou left us in the mournful dark.The time we shared was full of warmthOur flame sustained us through the yearsAnd now it lights the path aheadBetween the silence and the tears. Her fingers wind the wool aroundWithout her even thinkingAnd rows and rows of stitches showWithout her even blinking. If I had a voice nowIt would be lovingAnd I would say thank you for all of your care.If I had a voice nowId want to tell youIm sorry for not always wanting to be there.My life, it confused you, it did so to me.But I am released now and my heart is free.The heart that was hidden beneath all the pain,It felt so much more than I could explain.And if I had a voice now,Id say out loudI love you, I wish that Id made that clear.And in my lifetimeI need you to knowThat I was much more than I did appear.These are things that Id say through choiceif I had a chance and if I had a voice. Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling.But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful dayI softly sing. Gambling: a lie appliedto organized theft. Wheeling through the beautiful countrysideFar from the citys commotionAlone, just me, my bike, my thoughtsThe joy of quiet motion. And rumble off to clubhouse forA changing of the brew;Black vests in formationfastand tighta loud tribute. Nothing can erase the painfulImprints on your mindBut there are softer memoriesThat time will let you find. You know Ill always ride hereeven when my ridings doneIn the whisper of the pre-dawnor the final burst of sunAt the corners of transitionwhere the changes are obscuredI will ride and if you see meits because our love has endured. 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! Pause in their dance and break the ring for me; Dim, shady wood-roads, redolent of fern. 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. 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. Life is an ocean and love is a boat,In troubled water that keeps us afloat,When we started the voyage, there was just me and you Now gathered round us, we have our own crew. 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. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. The 'Cricket' Funeral Order of Service design is from the HobbiesRange, which is only available from Fitting Farewell. 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. But now my shift is overIve done my very bestLast orders; its time for closureAnd time for me to rest. Just one last effort, I pass the line.Was I first, was I last? You are elegant and charming. Many friends I know are waitingWho took an earlier trainTo greet and reassure meThat nothing has really changed. Click on the title to continue reading, or browse a larger collection of funeral verses, including non-religious funeral poems and short verses. The ceremony is conducted by a humanist celebrantand it is both a celebration of a life and a dignified, personal farewell. Her knitting needles are now silentNot a sound more will they makeBut what a wonderful lesson [name] has left usTo give always more than you take. I don't mind dying But I want my funeral to be fine: A row of long tall mammas Fainting, Fanning and crying - Langston Hughes. I had to leave too soon,But love had joined us as I grew inside my Mommys womb. He rides like an eagle, flyingAll along the stars;Its all about the journeySafe now from any harm. 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. You graced us with your presence and charm,And your love for fashion always set you apart.Now, as you rest, your beauty remains,Forever stylish and chic, without any pains. No wound so deep will ever goEntirely awayYet every hurt becomesA little less from day to day. When I was born that man was there,Tall and strong and fair of hair.He watched my mother give me birth,As I fought my way onto this Earth. And we must play on. Then gracefully his arm went outHe knew how he would bowl itWrong bias there!, then came the shoutWouldnt ya bloody know it!Here is a little message Make it a golden rule Always check your biasAnd you wont be a fool! With tearful eyes we watched him sufferAnd saw him slowly fade awayAlthough we loved him dearlyWe could not make him stay. Footballs a match made in heavenWhich is fan-tastic news for meAnd heavens a level playing fieldWhere anyone can kick off for free. Its all the stories you told,The places youve been.Its every sunset that you caughtand every cent you spent. Poems for those who suffered from dementia during their life. 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! God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. Fishing by William Henry Dawson. I chat about peoples livesI help to solve their woes,I make damn sure their night will thrive,And they keep me on my toes. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime. I seek the West,and fields and mountains ever blest. So dance with me this eveningAbove the lands belowThe clouds provide our dance floorNeath the light of those we know. The Archers Bow Shelbie Hale An ode to the oneness between archer and bow that has now come to an end.The Arrow And The Song Henry Longfellow Wadsworth A verse touching upon the impact people have on our lives.An Arrow Chosen From A Quiver anon A slightly religious poem comparing someones life to the release of an arrow. I feel you driftingLike a traveller in timefrom my heart, from my lovefrom my arms. Poems for chefs, cooks, and those who simply enjoyed spending time in the kitchen cooking for their loved ones. 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. My feet ache, my hands are numb.Will this day ever be done?I head home with talc in my lung,and some hair stuck in my thumb. I love to learn about them, and share all that I find,With others who love their fossils just as much as I love mine,They know that fossils are far more than simply rocks and debris,They are a vital window into our worlds history. Should you require a celebrant for your ceremony, be it a funeral, a wedding, a naming ceremony or something else, feel free to get in touch. Ninety years without slumbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)His lifes seconds numbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)It stopped short never to go again When the old man died. Mother, you were just a girl, So many years ago. I am never without it (anywhere. Beer Is Just Fine Roy Pett A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer.The Beer Prayer anon A beer-infused version of the Lords Prayer.A Drinking Song W. B. Yeats a short verse pondering over the role of wine and love in life.Fortifying The Spirits Michael Ashby A humorous poem perfect for someone who liked a drink or two.The Lost Drink Banjo Paterson An ode to a once-in-a-lifetime drink concoction that was never found again. Edged and taken. You left withoutWarning.Gone so fast.Now all we haveAre memoriesOf our past. I imagine you laughingYour heart lovingly set freeYou understand my griefIn ways I cannot see. Not a day goes by, dadThat you dont cross our minds.Not all of you departedWhen you left our earth behind. Out of the corner of my eye I see you there, but when I turn to look, you fade away.What I wouldnt give to just have one more day. 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. To me youre more than an Uncle,youre truly a great friend.Someone I could pour my thoughts out toknowing youll cherish them to the end. 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. Our revels now are ended. Nature would speak to usOur world would become onewith peace and understandingand a little bit of fun.