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. 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! 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. And to those not with us or by our side, May God be your partner on your final ride. So dance beyond those golden gates,And join your loving mum.Ill see you when Im sleeping,And pray for you to come. 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. 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. 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. Going to second Mass on a summer SundayYou meet me and you say:Dont forget to see about the cattleAmong your earthiest words the angels stray. She probably carried kindling to stoke the kitchen fire.To hold a load of laundry, or to wipe the clothesline wire.When canning all her vegetables, it was used to wipe her brow.You never know, she might have used it to shoo flies from the cow. I had to leave too soon,But love had joined us as I grew inside my Mommys womb. I do not despair If a few I cant solve But begin on the down clues With extra resolve. We light these five candles in honour of our loved ones: One for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories, one for our love, and one for our hope. Youve got to know when to hold emKnow when to fold emKnow when to walk awayAnd know when to runYou never count your moneyWhen youre sittin at the tableTherell be time enough for countinWhen the dealins done. Nature would speak to usOur world would become onewith peace and understandingand a little bit of fun. But now as no seat is vacantYou will have to muddle throughMake sure you fulfil your ambitionsAs you know Ill be watching you. Most prefer it flyingFree to wave and blowNot sitting on a mantelWithout the stripes to show. Mother wore an ample apronTo cover her clean dress.Shed tell you thats what it was forIf you asked her, I would guess. Michael Ashby A humorous play-on-words about death and cooking.Mothers Apron Joyce Johnson A similar piece to the above, but with subtleties that befit a mother.Riches Jeanne D. Rhein A lovely, comforting piece about the cosy, familial comforts of a home-cooked meal. To the pearly gates of Heaven, where they will usher you in. White rose petals fall and blossoms fade,Memories linger yet,Recollections of happier times,You never will forget. From the depths of my heart, come the words of a brother,where our souls and our minds, are like that of no other.The spirit of competition, will always be there,in the look of our eyes, and the glance of our stare.Protecting each other, is always a must,good times or bad times, never losing that trust.Like a vision of Indians, riding across desert sand,or the heart of a Raider, when he conquers new land.We never lacked courage, or showed too much pride,with no thoughts of guilt, or feelings put to the side.Its important to strive forward, and not live through regret,but to savor the memories, and to never forget.To be such close companions, always made me so proud,never scared to express feelings, our emotions speak loud.Whether its heaven or on earth, our souls are always together,we share that sacred bond, knowing that brothers last forever. You can also find an index of topics at the top of this page. The following database of poems and readings is an ever-expanding list of verses useful for anyone planning a funeral ceremony for a loved one. And the bar stayed open all day. I can still hear you calling my name,then reality sets in and Im reminded my life will never be the same. 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. Poems for those who loved building and rebuilding marvellous creations with those famous little bricks. The stars glisten in the night skyShining like diamonds;The fire burns a hot blazing redWarming even the coldest of nights.Fireflies lighting the dark skyLike lanterns drifting in the night;The ooey gooey mallowsChocolate melting in your mouth.Belting campfire songsSerenading the animals into a blissful sleep;Reciting spooky stories of things that lurk in the darkKnowing no one will sleep tonight.The simplicity and beauty of the night;Making memories that last forever. And when he died at just years,his brother comforted me,with, I expect God wants to put him right,but we missed him dreadfully. !Farewell to conventions I give up the fight.So I leave with few words but some that are true,Bridge is a game not for me but for you. Afterglow - Helen Lowrie Marshall His labourers name was Dodger who would work now and then, most of the time was spent at The Bookies placing bets for other men. The place where we share our secrets,and it always just makes sense,Where my soul can be wide open,true and free without defence,Split by a generation,simply makes us both so nearer,To words so true from both,whether youre the speaker or the hearer. 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. When my bowling ball reaches the end of the alleyI hope for a strike.And when my life culminates in a dramatic finale,Thats what Id like. Gymnasts (Sonnet #52) Paul Rowley A beautiful sonnet about the fine line between success and failure.Her Chosen Way Mark Gregory A rhyming poem about the beauty and skill of a female gymnast.The Way He Moved Mark Gregory A poem in free verse about the graceful movements of a gymnast. If in this way you see yourself reflected,And all these things you have already done.A pigeon fancier there can be detected,And what is more, a good one, too, my son. He liked collisions football, but they broughtheadaches. I am a juggler, and I juggle as I go,Flung from hand to hand, these balls of life 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. We are not members unfortunately. 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. So let us keep the warriors spiritAlive in every move we make,For it is through this art, we inheritA strength that will never shake. A Poem for Mother. From hoops, to drops, to barbell hugs, She loved wearing tiny rocks, But no one can actually see her now, Shes become a walking jewellery box! 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. Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. How lucky I was,How blessed Ive been,You were more than my Aunt,You were also my friend. Ill walk the extra mile.Not because I have to, but because its worth my while.I know that I am different, when I stand on a crowded street.I know the fullness of winning, Ive tasted the cup of defeat. That you are proud of us and that we will be together again. I will miss youOh so much.So will allThe lives thatYou haveTouched. 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. They are not in any particular order or category as every person interprets a poem in their own way. 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. 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. The archer and his bow:Take aim and let the arrow fly,It hits, fast as lightning A perfect bulls-eye. A beautiful garden now stands alone,missing the one who nurtured it,But now she is gone. You are elegant and charming. And though you are gone, though youre not here with methe cord is still there but no one can seeIt pulls at my heart, I am bruisedI am sorebut this cord is my lifeline as never before. Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broomsBalancing up on his nose, and the plate whirlsOn the tip of the broom! Wtf Fun Facts. A keen Bridge player from ChardFound losing so terribly hardImagine how she feltWhen she saw shed been dealtThree jokers and a bridge scoring card? Ive grown up with your values,And Im very glad I did;So heres to you, dear father,From your forever grateful kid. The ancients etched the wordsfor battle and victory onto their shields and then they went out. Not just a freeway drive, but each outing on a mission,And not a veering trundle, but a task of deep precision,Not the tedium of traffic, relief at the arriving,The thrill is in the journey, and the passion in the driving. A good eye and a perfect stance. Do not go gentle into that good night, A humanist funeralis a non-religious ceremony that focuses on the person who has died, the life they led, and the relationships they forged. She wore themThrough good timesAnd badThrough laughterAnd tearsThrough joyAnd pain. Grandmas Quilts Mark Gregory A poem perfect for a grandmother whose knitted creations were the stuff of legend.A Grandmothers Mystery Graeme Cook A poem exploring what exactly is so special about grandmothers.Legacy Of Love anon A poem highlighting the long-lasting effects of a grandmothers unconditional love.Sleep Now, Nana Alexandra Burrows A peaceful, slightly religious poem inviting grandma to rest eternally.We Had A Wonderful Grandmother anon A poem for a loving and caring grandmother. Fortifying The Spirits - Michael Ashby - A humorous poem . It serves as a mark of respect to all who played in 2010 and as a memorial to the unknown village side, especially to those who may knowingly or unknowingly . And at the end of that good lifewhen it came time for him to diethe old carpenter soaredinto the white light of death for the white light is where the good souls go to. Theres a picture I cant look away fromWith simplicity of your innocence.Theres a picture of what love can becomeWith simplicity, strength and elegance. Is there anyway we could carry out this request please if possible? My big right hand, gloved and fisted, Feeling now, the throttle twisted, Crisp exhaust roar, sounding sweet, Drop the clutch, and hit the street, The revs rise sharply, grab next gear, Excitement tinged with hint of fear, Watch that tacho needle wind, All and sundry left behind. There were a couple of muckers who mixed up the cement,they were forever subbing so they never paid their rent. All through the swing he hears the boat singAs she glides on her flying track,And he gathers aft to strike the craftWith a ringing bell note crack. When a job was finished his tools had to be clean, because he was the boss of a slap-happy working team. I Hold The Heights Geoffrey Winthrop Young An abridged version of the original which basks in the glory of hiking.Im Climbing A Mountain Andrew Blakemore An uplifting poem about the sights and sounds of a climb.So Well Go No More A-Climbing anon An adaptation of Lord Byrons original; a lament to a climbing partner. These funeral poems and readings are reflective and comforting. Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings. Im climbing a mountainThe blue sky is turning to gold,The sunset so peacefulSuch beauty is there to behold. Green sod above, Lie light, lie light. When great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety. O Magic wheel of burnished steelHow part of myself thou art.As we roll alongMid the hurrying throngThat peoples the busy mart. And rumble off to clubhouse forA changing of the brew;Black vests in formationfastand tighta loud tribute. My three sons I married right,And their sons I rocked at night;Death nor sorrow never broughtCause for one unhappy thought. 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. Originally conceived before the 2023 UCI World Championships were POC Omne Lite and Ultra helmets, Pole Voima ID, Bell Full-10 helmet, Cane Creek ILG2 shocks, and Focus Jam/Sam 2s. 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. Cricket, Lovely Cricket By Kwame Dawes Sometimes living in America is like living in a bubble. When you get what you want in your struggle for wealthAnd the world makes you King for a day,Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,And see what that guy has to say.For it isnt your Father, or Mother, or Wife,Who judgement upon you must pass.The feller whose verdict counts most in your lifeIs the guy staring back from the glass.Hes the feller to please, never mind all the rest,For hes with you clear up to the end,And youve passed your most dangerous, difficult testIf the guy in the glass is your friend.You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,And get pats on the back as you pass,But your final reward will be heartaches and tearsIf youve cheated the guy in the glass.Hes the fellow to please, never mind all the restFor hes with you clear up to the endAnd youve passed your most dangerous, difficult testIf the man in the glass is your friend. But there are those whose whole life is a blessing,Not just a moment, a smile or a word.They make all around them feel special,No person ignored or unheard. The city . 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. They would make good funeral poems for a nature lover who spent a lot of time in their garden. Poems for those who found a love of the stage either on or off it during their life. Our lager, which art in barrels,Hallowed be Thy drink,Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),At home as I am in the tavern.Give us this day our foamy head,And forgive us our spillages,As we forgive those who spill against us,And lead us not to incarceration,But deliver us from hangovers,For thine is the beer, the bitter and the lager,Forever and ever,Barmen. When at last the harvest comesAs the fields receive the dew,A life well lived leaves legacyThe Masters plan in view. And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. - Navjot Sidhu 5 1 Add a comment The third umpires should be changed as often as nappies and for the same reason. 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. Come to the beach and remember;Make some footprints of your own,And think of days now absentAnd the memories weve known. 11 min read. The instruments played this salutationTo amusicianof note and much moreAt the end, everyone stamped their feetEncore, Encore, Encore! He played with passion, played with grace,His mind was sharp, his strategy sound,He battled on the chessboards face,And never once let his focus drown. How could such blazing colour leave? He may be reserved in his manner and speech,And hide the fine graces of which pedants preach;But he is kind and sincere when his heart you once reach,For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. The final chapter of that is quite moving as the author was battling unsuccessfully against cancer to get it finished. 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 . Though the day was made for scaling,And the dusk gathers too soon,You and mellgono more a-climbingBy thelight of the moon. Granddad,We know you can no longer stay with us,you fought long and hard to be with us.We know you now watch over and protect us.Although we cannot hear your voice or see your smiling face,We know deep down in our hearts that you have not left us.Instead every day you surround us with the singing of the birds,the rising of the sun and the falling of night.So many broken hearts are left behind,But in our deepest despair our greatest comfort lies knowingthat you are now at peace with the angels and God.So as times passes our tears will dry,our hearts will mend,but our love for you will never end. They say that times were tough thenThat money was very tightBut I remember my childhoodAnd I know that cant be right. For you were one of lifes true best,A little mean, but oh the rest,Your heart bigger than all weve known,A personality of your own. 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. Poems for Funerals and Memorial Services One does not leave a funeral in the same way that he has come. And I would want to lead just right,And to know that I was true.So walk a little slower, Daddy,For I must follow you. The teams. - Navjot Sidhu 8 0 Add a comment Dont laugh at me, for I am not laughing with you.I see youre laughing at me why is this true? At Lords Francis Thompson A condensed version by the famous poet encapsulating the atmosphere at Lords.Cricketers Last Boundary Michael Ashby A poem for a cricket-lover full of cricketing metaphors.A Cricketers Prayer anon A prayer that the game of cricket (and life) will be won, or at least be fair.The Cricketers Prayer East Leeds CC An adaptation of the Lords Prayer put together by a Yorkshire club. Its 3 am and youre on my mind,I just cant sleep tonight,I try but toss and turn and cry,Its not fair, or just or right!I close my eyes whisper your name,Into the dark still air,My sweetest child my Angel,This pain I cannot compare.Missing you is such a huge part,Of my life now of my day,Every waking moment youre there,On my mind now to stay.When I sleep youre in my dreams,Calling out so distant so small,I feel you slipping away from me,I just cant get to you at all.Then I wake up bathed in terror,Its like losing you all over again,My heart racing the tears falling,It hurts so very much then.But sometimes when I dream of you,Im holding you in my embrace,Breathing in every inch of you,Gazing into your darling face.This stays with me when I waken,I carry it in my heart,Watching you grow, seeing you change,Even though we are apart.Your name the trees whisper to me,The wind it sings your tune,I know youre there, youre with me,As we gaze at the waning moon.Hold my hand My Angel,As we gaze into the nights wild,These twilight hours are mine and yours,My Angel, my darling my child. Similar . Your email address will not be published. The boys who came to watch their gods, We cherish the special place in our heartsthat will always be reserved for you.We thank you for the giftyour living brought to each of us.We love you.We remember you. I know how much it hurt your soulWhen we had to say goodbyeBut Im not gone, Im always hereI am your butterfly. She may have used it to hold some wildflowers that shed found.Or to hide a crying childs face when a stranger came around.Imagine all the little tears that were wiped with just that cloth.Or it became a potholder to serve some chicken broth. Unique if rudyard kipling related items, Etsy. As I look into your little boys eyes, I know I have to carry onso I can tell him about his mom. And we must play on. MORE THYME! 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. He arrived, not quite finished off,as his brother said one night,and, I bet Gods feeling awfully sadthat he didnt get him right.. If I helped in a team, if I helped on my own,it was more than repaid by good family and friends I have known;and if I went the extra mile,I did it with pleasure it was all worthwhile. I wish I could give you many more years.I wish I could erase away all of your tears. Weeping willows formed an honour guardFor the cricket ball writ with a noble nameA team of ten, which had once been elevenWould never be the same side again. Unknown So rest now my beautiful Nanna,Ill never forget how much you have done.So until my hand meets yours again,Sleep now in the sun. Watch it sink into the hairthe chiseled point will disappearanother sip of ale to bootgame set matchthe point is moot. And so now to me, what does it all meanfor me not the fashion, or the high social scenebut the thundering hooves pounding down on the earthThe grace and the power of these kings of the turf. 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 The topic Cricket themed reading for Dads funeral is closed to new replies. Poems for those who made a career moulding and shaping wood, or who simply enjoyed it as a pastime. 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. Crystals form almost uniformwhere many cave creatures are bornflowing walls made of stonebeautiful formations have grown. Although your jokes were not that funny,And you seldom spent your money,Last to the bar and first to leave,That youre gones hard to believe. Just to prove myfriendship is true to have a friend like you! O Life! 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. Ill never get to see your precious face;or whisper words to make you feel safeIll never get to hold you tightwhen you cant sleep at nightIll never get to sing to you a sweet lullaby,to calm you down when you cryIll never get to fall asleep with you in my arms,all bundled in a blanket to keep you warmIll never get to hear you laugh and giggleor see you little toes wiggleThere are many things I will never get to do,but the hardest is not being with you. We did so much togetherrode in carsshared our lovenear the campfireWith soft and tender armsTamed broken pasts. Between the wars, cricket became part of the jolly furniture of upper-class country life. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die. Eternal rocks will form my tomb,Sand my quilt shall be,Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,And Ill become one with the sea. Pray dont find fault with the man who limpsor stumbles along the road,unless you have worn the shoes he wearsor struggled beneath his load.There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,though hidden away from view,or the burden he bears, placed on your backmight cause you to stumble too.Dont sneer at the man whos down todayunless you have felt the blowthat caused his fall or felt the shamethat only the fallen know.You may be strong, but still the blowsthat were his if dealt to you,in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,might cause you to stagger too.Dont be too harsh with the man who sinsor pelt him with word or stone,unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,that you have no sins of your ownfor you know perhaps if the tempters voiceshould whisper as softly to youas it did to him when he went astray,it might cause you to stumble too. Now he lives onhaving answered that resounding heavenly bellappearing at last in the Lords eternal firehouse where firemen dwell,standing as he had done in this life so proud and talljoyously and willingly responding when he finally heardthe firefighters last call. In his pastimes and sports he will try all the way,And, back to the wall, make his greatest display;He asks not for favours, but only fair play,For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. Stand upon the mountainRaise your wings up highCast aside the chains of fearTrust and you will fly. The empty spots beckon; They yearn to be filled And if Im successful Im quietly thrilled. Though your heart wont let the sadnessSimply slide awayThe echoes will diminishEven though the memories stay. 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. 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. Every dayWe puzzlers cheer For since 1913, Once a day they appear. Pirouette, PirouetteDancers silhouettePracticing at duskDedication is a must. Day is ended, dim my eyes,but journey long before me lies.Farewell, friends! wc19 contest Brevity 30 words or less to the attached Mark Croucher painting Time f.. - Joanna Garrido, Profanity : Our optional filter replaced words with *** on this page , Today, Tomorrow, Long Ago and Years to Come. A mind so patient, waits for it to growAs the pattern appears, row by row.A mind so creative, can picture it completeThe stitches like soldiers, all the same, so neat. You left withoutWarning.Gone so fast.Now all we haveAre memoriesOf our past. One, two, three,Dont cry for me,Four, five, sixIve had my kicks. One day you will all forgive meOne day you will understandAnd when your time on earth is doneI will be waiting to take your hand. 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. They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. But we cant complain, it is only a game.Right? See more ideas about grief quotes, grieving quotes, cowboy prayer. The tales you told about each catchIts stature and its girthWill live in memories unmatchedAs days pass here on earthUntil we meet again, one dayUpon Gods golden sandWell picture you, no other wayThan with a pole in hand. Foster A poem for a child born with a disability who is lost to the world too soon.
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