A wife, a mother, a grandmother too,This is the legacy we have from you.You taught us love and how to fight,You gave us strength, you gave us might.A stronger person would be hard to find,And in your heart, you were always kind.You fought for us all in one way or another,Not just as a wife not just as a mother.For all of us you gave your best,Now the time has come for you to rest.So go in peace, youve earned your sleep,Your love in our hearts, well eternally keep. 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. But you think I am goneYou dont see me, but I can see youWhatever the problems, I will help you get through. Kazmierczak A light-hearted poem about trying (and often failing) to get a strike.The End Of The Alley Mark Gregory A poem filled with bowling terminology about what we hope for when we die.A Ten-Pin Bowlers Prayer anon An adaptation of the Lords Prayer, but for ten-pin-bowlers. Little rattle of dry seeds in pods, The warm crowd . There were some lovely lines in the eulogy for Phillip Hughes. Sweetheart, I love youBut I cannot bind you to meI see the longing in your eyeswhile you are watching these mountainsthose sunsets. But when, to show affection for my son,she gives him candy, who can bear her eyes?begging from a tiny serious idolforgiveness for the terrible gift of timeshe once held out with beautiful, ignorant hands. 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. The magical sound of leather on willowThe sweet smell of freshly cut grassThecricketer crossing the last boundaryTo a third innings that would forever last. When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken. So be kind to your partners and dont mind their cheek.For its only a game Oh! Hes asked me if I would care to danceCant refuse, so Ill take the chanceTrembling as he takes me into his armsGliding together as the music starts. I Do Not Think My Song Will End Jonny Hathcock A poem about the deceased becoming one with nature.Look For Me In Rainbows Conn Bernard A call to remember the deceased through nature and happy memories. 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. I am a martial artist. Each one was pieced with tender care,With threads of love and light,A labour of love taking time and skill,For each quilt that lay in sight. You are a breath of fresh air on a hot summers night.When there is darkness, you turn on the light. Patti Masterman A poem about being grateful that your body lasted as long as it did. We are connected, my child and I,by an invisible cord not seen by the eye.Its not like the cord that connects us at birththis cord cant be seen by any on earth. All Internet links/videos/pictures in here ONLY, Optical equipment repair and refurbishment as a hobby. Block A poem about what a hard-working sailor will do once his working life is over.Sea Fever John Masefield A touching poem asking for a quiet sleep and a sweet dream at the end of life.Some Time At Eve Elizabeth Clark Hardy A lovely verse about passing away quietly and without fuss.The Voyage Christie Moore A poem about a couple navigating life together, and with friends.When The Last Hand Comes Aboard Richard John Scarr A religious poem about completing a ships crew. Seasonal Poetry, Bette A. Stevens, Maine Author. Some folk drive for transport, just a means unto an end,They treat cars as a mere machine, and not a trusted friend,Concerned only for the badge in front, how bright it may be shining,And the many pretty toys inside, their egos there defining. cricket poems for funerals That man taught me to ride a bike,And even how to fly a kite.He taught me to know wrong from right,When to run and when to fight. That would be the most meaningful of all. Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. Land of the rainbow gold,For flood and fire and famine she pays us back threefold.Over the thirsty paddocks, watch, after many days,The filmy veil of greenness that thickens as we gaze. When I speak your name,Its because you no longer can,And I want the world to knowWhat a goof I had. You would need to contact the club directly try reception@mcc.org.uk to start with. The Road goes ever on and onOut from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,Let others follow it who can!Let them a journey new begin,But I at last with weary feetWill turn towards the lighted inn,My evening-rest and sleep to meet. 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. I dont know how to make it through this,when all I want is to call it quits. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. Until that day Ill close my eyes,And see your smiling face.Ill lock you up inside me heart,Until we again embrace. A humanist funeralis a non-religious ceremony that focuses on the person who has died, the life they led, and the relationships they forged. A Bricklayer Lou Szymkow A poem reflecting the natural talents and hard-working craft of a bricklayer.Bricklayers Lament Sylvia Spencer A poem about a hard-working builder with a less-than-ideal team beneath him.The Bridge Builder Will Allen Dromgoole A touching poem about building bridges for others, rather than for yourself.Wreckers Or Builders? Lets haste awayFrom the heart of the dayTo the woods refreshing shadeWhere the babbling brookIn some sheltered nookIs gurgling a-down the glade. Tears water our growth." Golden wheat in sheaves preparedFor winter that will reign,The story of the life of manTold by the golden grain. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. I feel you driftingLike a traveller in timefrom my heart, from my lovefrom my arms. When I speak your name,It brings back memoriesOf you dancing for joyOr maybe playing with a toy. 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. For though from out our bourn of Time and PlaceThe flood may bear me far,I hope to see my Pilot face to faceWhen I have crossed the bar. 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. Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance, fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignorance ofdark, cold caves. "A Meeting" by Edith Wharton. The little one we longed forWas swiftly here and gone.But the love that was then plantedIs a light that still shines on. 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. 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. So fly high, dear flag, as we lay them to rest,Their love for you was truly the best.A life well-lived, with memories to hold,They cherished the flag; we let it unfold. Ive been a daughter, mum, nan and wifeI had a ball and enjoyed my lifeIts just that when I heard the callThe call had my number on the ball.Live on now, make me proud of what youll become. We have a lot to be thankful for,The memories through the years.The many times together,Full of laughter, full of tears. The song captures the atmosphere of a village cricket match and is an elegy to the game as played during Harper's youth. I always begin With the first clue across, Continuing on Until Im at a loss. SURLY was the crossword clue,I gave a sideways stare;my hubby gave a stifled coughand looked into the air. I am the wind in your hair, the sand in your toesButterfly kisses that you feel on your noseI am with you at sunrise and in the sunsetBut you cannot see me, its my one regret. Im sorry, friends, that I cant be with you here today.If youre gathered reading this, it means Ive passed away.But if I were there, Id tell you not to shed a tear or frown.Id tell you just to simply say, Another Biker has gone down.. He strived so hard from day to dayAnd never oft complained,With steady hands he worked so hardAnd kept the family name, Dad dwells amongst the angels now;He left us much too soon.He is now with mum, his wife again;From pain he is immune. There are candles in the night,flickering souls fighting back the dark:these are the angels of the abyss,holding back the blackness that consumes us. Its everything you sacrificedand choices you made.Its all the problems that you solved,your lessons from mistakes. 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. The funeral bell is ringing for one, a last goodbye,And on the clock of our mortality, the hours just seem to fly,Respect to the departed is all that we can pay,And for each and every one of us, a final night and day. Avaruus Ja Thtitiede. Jack the cricket was sneaking around in the dell. You are using an out of date browser. The funeral bell is ringing, a reminder of our mortality,Farewelling a deceased soul, one day twill ring for me.Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day,Across the rural city, in the morning damp and grey. No tears to be shed,Only in cheer;Continueonthe path already ledEachonyour own veer. 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? As you played and sharedAnd helped and taughtThe laughter and love always shone through. It is right that she is loved: her courage shinesin all the maxims that she does not drawfrom sixty years to warn our present joy.In all her tales, her husband and three sonsquietly keep the graves she bought for them. I cant improve you life, thats true,But I am always there to care for you.Years ago you became my wife,Since then you have become my life. Oh! It wove its way within our hearts, in all our hopes and dreams,Until the very purest love became my tiny wings.Although I could not stay with you, I knew right from the start,That once you felt your angels love, youd keep me in your hearts. Close The Gate Nancy Kraayenhof A poem accenting the physical and metaphorical importance of closing the gateThe Harvest Sherrie Bradley Neal A more symbolic poem about the harvest and how it reflects the cycle of life.I Farmed The Land Earl Smithson A beautiful little poem about the simplicity and skill of a farmers life.Im Just A Farmer, Plain And Simple Bobby Collier Another poem about the supposed simplicity of farming life.The Old Farmers Prayer Steve Watkins A lightly religious poem about a farmers final message to their loved ones. I hear the call.The ships beside the stony wall.Foam is white and waves are grey;beyond the sunset leads my way.Foam is salt, the wind is free;I hear the rising of the Sea. 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. You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. Its anyone youve ever lovedwho mourns you in the end. You loved the roaring of the crowd,The rush of victory,You loved the sweat, the tears, the toil,The adrenaline, so sweet. ThanksDad, for teaching us to be strong,ThanksDad, for showing us whats right and wrong.ThanksDad, for giving us enough love and shelter,ThanksDad, for sharing with us our tears and laughter.ThanksDad, for teaching us to stand on our own,ThanksDad, for all the love and care you have shown.ThanksDad, for giving us support and inspiration,ThanksDad, for guiding us in our decision-making.ThanksDad, for being responsible, kind, and hardworking,ThanksDad, for lending us your time when were concentrating.ThanksDad, for loving us from deep inside your heart,ThanksDad, for hoping to be with us when we were apart.ThanksDad, for showing us how a realDadshould be,ThanksDad, for always caring for mum, my brother, and me.What more can we ask from a great father like you,For special fathers like you are so far between and few.ThanksDad, for showing us unconditional caring and love,We hope,Dad, that you can read and hear this from above. This will be my final journeyI go with no regretsThe days weve had togetherHave been the very best. If we treat each other with respectAnd more often wear a smile,Remembering this special dashMight only last a little while. 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. Tolkien A wonderful verse about sailing off to the West; perfect for a Lord of the Rings fan.Crossing The Bar Alfred Lord Tennyson Another of Tennysons famous verses about mans final journey.Gone From My Sight (What Is Dying?) F amily man, first and foremost. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.For nothing now can ever come to any good. With flags so colourful and bold,His home was a sight to behold,Friends and family cameAnd all knew his name,His love for flags never grew old. And sometimes glanced at the play, 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. These protect the batsman s legs from the solid ball, which can travel at over sixty miles an hour and bloody hurts when it hits an unprotected shin. 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. Throttle on, and forward blast, The next corner, looming fast, Leaning in hard, and tyres gripping, Miles behind me, quickly slipping, White posts like a picket fence, Concentration, full, intense. I dont give a jot!Ive railed and Ive raved since my dotage beganIts my privilege, cos Im a grumpy old man. And now that man has left this life,No longer parted from his wifeMemories are all that we have leftOf that man who was the best. Always dressed in the finest clothes,A true fashionista no-one could oppose.Your style was so impeccable and bold;Your passion for fashion will never grow old. We are not members unfortunately. You made me proud of who you areand all that you have done You often reached beyond the starsto find your goals and won. Poems for those who enjoyed the ebb and flow of angling. A precious angel slipped away, no one heard a cry.No time for Dad and Mommy to sing me lullabies.My time with you was much too short. The bingo caller shouts out loud and clearThat number you have been waiting to hear!You rise to your feet and shout out loud:BINGO! 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. 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. 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. 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. Nothing can erase the painfulImprints on your mindBut there are softer memoriesThat time will let you find. 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. I know of tall pines,And long, waiting lines.Of the warmth of campfires,And the agony of flat tires. Poems for people who had family at the centre of their lives. Poems for those brave men and women who risked their lives to save others from fire. You can also find an index of topics at the top of this page. A Redevelopment Update, NBD: Last Tarvo 2, Specialized Tero X, Crankbros Mallet Trail, This topic has 9 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated. Better Drowned than Duffers.If Not Duffers, Won't Drown. Now it comforts us to knowyoure with the angels up above.While in our hearts we hold you closeSurrounded by our love. To one who bears the sweetest nameand adds a luster to the same,who shares my joy, who cheers when sad,the greatest friend Ive ever had. She is sitting in an armchair,the kind that envelops youwhen you sink into it,lost in a bookthat is taking her someplacefar from this room,someplace beyond the reachof the late afternoon sunthat is streaming through the window,beyond the reach of this houseand the row of houses next to it,beyond the streets and the townsand the fields that surround them. My grandfathers clock was too large for the shelf,So it stood ninety years on the floor.It was taller by half than the old man himself,Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,And was always his treasure and pride;But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died.