Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Id like to accept that while I stumbled and spluttered,I never strayed so far as to end up in the gutter.Id like to come to terms with all the times I slipped and fouled,But always got back up again: of this I am quite proud. 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! Ive got the bowling ball blues.Now all I want is a spare.But all I get is bad news.Im always off by a hair.Come on now, roll like thunder,Drop those pins asunder:Cure my bowling ball blues. Always with that memory of failure.Always with the possibility of more. Im all the jobs rolled into one:Host, therapist, friend.I give the people what they want;Im basically a godsend. Some folk can cheer up a cold dayWith just a few words or a glance.Others can make things seem betterIf you just give them half of a chance. 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. How lucky I was,How blessed Ive been,You were more than my Aunt,You were also my friend. And now my race had endedSo much I have achievedI loved you all so very muchIt was so hard to leave. 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. The poems on this page are suitable for any loved one. 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. Fly, fly little wingFly where only angels singFly away, the time is rightGo now, find the light. Their love for film was boundlessAnd theyd watch them one by oneFrom the classics to the newest hitsTheir passion was second to none. 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. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. The road you feel, within your palms, at every bend you take,Every bump and line and camber, each triumph and mistake,Your car it tells you all of this, for this is truly livin,Petrol flowing through the veins, and ways it can be driven. Short Funeral Poems Nobody likes long-winded, dry segments at an already dour event like a funeral. The archer and his bowAlways achieve gloryThough this is the endOf their epic story. Heaven has received another angel,The night sky another star.Your life has become a loving memory.I know you will never be far. He saw the road was getting roughAnd the hills were hard to climb,So he closed your weary eyelidsAnd whispered, Peace be thine.. Sometimes Jacks come out to play,theyre a joyful bunch and kind.It happens they overrule the Kings,but isnt it true that love is blind? Poems for those people who enjoyed collecting fossils, or, indeed, were amateur or professional palaeontologists. But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. Pierce a bulls eye if you darethrow a fine dart through the aircenter it upon the dotgive it everything you got. 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. A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam, and for abrief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world:but then it flies again. So, our sweetYoull never be goneCause your laughter and loveWill always shine through. Sunday morning early comesThis sweltering summers day;Chrome and coffee polished offAs bike and rider wake. Eternal rocks will form my tomb,Sand my quilt shall be,Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,And Ill become one with the sea. Is there anyway we could carry out this request please if possible? Fossils Peter Cullen A thought-provoking poem perhaps equating physical fossils to memories of the dead.Old Bones and Stones Mark Gregory A first-person poem about a passion for fossils and an acceptance of death.A Story Of The Past Charles Sternberg The first four stanzas of Sternbergs poem about finding God in fossil-hunting. "You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted." You are the picture I paint in my headOf beauty that only exists in thought.You are the picture I dream of in bed.Of beauty that I have forever thought. The archer and his bowCelebrate victory!The greatest of allThe archers in history. 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. When the bell rings for last ordersPlease dont panic or get vexedIts simply time to sup this worlds last drinkBefore ordering your first in the next. In life, they loved their family, With a love that knew no bounds, Their heart was filled with joy and pride, When their loved ones were around. Through our tears we look upwards to see [person] watching over us. I am a martial artist. 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! Friends and family pay respectsTo biker and his mate;Praises made and prayers raised,Blues legends resonate. 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. crunch! Your life was fueled by coffee,That much we know is true.It was more than just a drink,But a way of life for you. Oh dear, if youre reading this right now,I must have given up the ghost.I hope you can forgive me for beingSuch a stiff and unwelcoming host. "Death Is Nothing At All" by Robert Scott Holland. For they existed. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. A ball will bounce; but less and less. When I speak your name,It brings back memoriesOf you dancing for joyOr maybe playing with a toy. Wheeling through the beautiful countrysideFar from the citys commotionAlone, just me, my bike, my thoughtsThe joy of quiet motion. "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" by Mary Frye. My Old Fishing Boat by Isaac McLellan. One is MS Dhoni and the other are the all others. So rude, mocking and defiant, And on you, still so reliant, You are there to fulfil their every need, Were so proud of their successes, And forgive their many messes, The writings on the wall but they wont read. 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. Turned out from my hipsNo words coming from my lipsI dance sweetly to the soundOoh ballet, to you, I am bound. And though our arms are empty,Our hearts know what to do.For every beating of our heartsSays that we love you. Survival and loveare what counts, and arentgames. For untying the strings that held them,when they grew up and left home.I give you this one for courage.Then the Lord added a garnet stone. I had two Mothers two Mothers I claimTwo different people, yet with the same name.Two separate women, diverse by design,But I loved them both because they were mine.The first was the Mother who carried me here,Gave birth and nurtured and launched my career.She was the one whose features I bear,Complete with the facial expressions I wear.She gave me her love, which follows me yet,Along with the examples in life that she set.As I got older, she somehow younger grew,And wed laugh as just Mothers and daughters should do.But then came the time that her mind clouded so,And I sensed that the Mother I knew would soon go.So quickly she changed and turned into the other,A stranger who dressed in the clothes of my Mother.Oh, she looked the same, at least at arms length,But now she was the child and I was her strength.Wed come full circle, we women three,My Mother the first, the second and me.And if my own children should come to a day,When a new Mother comes and the old goes away,Id ask of them nothing that I didnt do.Love both of your Mothers as both have loved you. Never will I be covered in tattoosMy legs and toes shall forever stay bruised.Ill never paint or carry a tuneForever and ever, Ill wear a tutu. Just remember that I need you,That the best of me is gone,Please dont fail to stand beside me,Love me til my life is done. A man who loves this land,And the beauty of its sand.I know of a springs fresh flowAnd autumns golden glow,Of a newborn calfs hesitation,And the eagles destination. He arrived, not quite finished off,as his brother said one night,and, I bet Gods feeling awfully sadthat he didnt get him right.. They move through threatening ghostsFeeling them cool as mistOn their brows. And keep a song within your heart,give thanks that you can playFor the round is far too short and sweet,to let it slip away. If I could fly like a birdtime would slow me downgiving me time to enjoy thepeace that surrounds all around.If I could fly likea bird swift as a lightI know for a factI would love this graceful flight. The dinosaur scratchings are slightly chewyAnd the Martian wines an unfriendly redBut not peeing in the night is pure delightAnd leaves you longer to hang over your bed. Each time we see a little cloudOr a rainbow soaring highWell think of you and gentlyWipe a tear from our eye. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your backOr you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on. We did so much togetherrode in carsshared our lovenear the campfireWith soft and tender armsTamed broken pasts. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep. Is there art and adventure?Tell me are you happy? Here is the funeral poem: Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Day is ended, dim my eyes,but journey long before me lies.Farewell, friends! In Tag, celebrityattached to beingIt,so why share it? A troublemaker, a teacher, a friend. Beer Is Just Fine - Roy Pett - A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer. While most of us are fast asleepAs the moon begins its fall,And drifts its gentle lightAcross the clock upon the wall;Theres others who have left their bedsTheres hoof beats in the dawn,And out upon the training trackThe music of the morn.The frost lays thick upon the groundAnd shines upon the roofs,And all around, the lovely soundA thousand steel shod hoofs,A scraping here, a snorting thereA jockeys curse, a whinny;A trainer feeling tender legsDamn, that colts gone shinny.The flaring nostrils show soft red,A roll, hose, scrape and lead,The rug thrown on, and off back homeTo munch the morning feedAnd as they leave, some more come inWhile the sun turns red at dawnTo the clatter of a thousand hoofs,The music of the morn.So when I die I hope that ICan chat with old Saint Peter,And that dear chap would understandThat nothing could be sweeterFor me, to go where the horses runDown a track thats long and worn,To hear once more, the glorious sound;The music of the morn. Copyright 2023 Scattering Ashes or original authors | Powered by. I will not cast the first stoneI have none in my handEven though your life at timesWas not how I had planned. Three cheers for firefighters!HIP HIP HOORAY!HIP HIP HOORAY!HIP HIP HOORAY! Do you have a pavilion Lord?Where we could sit and talk?Can you give me lots of energySo that I am never short? Dark depths of the ocean:A world unknown to the human race,Careful of every motionSo as not to disturb this place.Colours you have never seen before;Fish that can fit in the palm of your hand;Plants covering most of the ocean floor;All that is left is sparkling white sand.Staring in awe, as an outsider looking in,This world is perfect it seems Wishing I would never leave this intriguing island;Maybe I will visit it again in my dreams. My little girl has gone,but to her little boy I will continue to sing our song. Avaruus Ja Thtitiede. Musically, perhaps a bit sentimental, "When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease" by Roy Harper. Thousands of bells chimed overheadTheir lovely tone shaping my thoughtsSplendid new lands danced in my sightBut with ten thousand bells as my guideI would never be lost. Dedicated To Our Fallen Heroes Katharine Blohm A poem written for the Clearview Volunteer Fire Department.Fallen Rick Hoffman Jr. A lament to a fallen firefighter who served his community proudly.Fallen Brother anon A poem dedicated to a firefighter called Chuck that is apt for any fire man or woman.The Firefighters Last Call William Robbins A poem about the final act of a brave firefighter.A Firefighters Last Words Michael Ashby A rousing call to appreciate the lifes work of a firefighter.Heroes Gone anon A poem filled with sadness and pride from a fallen firefighter to his colleagues.To Be A Fireman Edward F. Crocker A short poem about the how being a firefighter is a noble calling. They took away my freedom,They took away my choice,And when they got their hooks in,You could hear it in my voice. I guess he wrote a lot more in a similar vein. In my kayak I find peaceOn the water, all is calmThe rhythm of the paddles releaseAll the stress and all the qualms. Board Games Lou Szymkow An atmospheric poem detailing the memories we all have of family board gaming days.A Game Of Life Frank Preston Stearns A old-fashioned yet moving sonnet comparing chess to life. Last Journey Timothy Coote A rhythmic poem ideal for someone who loved locomotives. Over'? As I Look Up To The Skies Above anon A sorrowful poem about how the world is a shade darker after losing someone.Requiem Robert Louis Stevenson A beautiful poem about acceptance, and being laid to rest under the night sky.The Sombre Astronomer Michael Humphries A short poem of longing to be with our lost loved ones again.There Is A New Star Shining In The Sky Tonight Sarah Hartwell Some prose reflecting upon the stars in the night sky. The topic Cricket themed reading for Dads funeral is closed to new replies. As eighteen flags flew at half mast, andGlasses were soberly raised highThe latest member was having a ballAt the golf course in the sky, Freed from the gravity of the situationThe first tee shot soared through spaceBringing a wondrous, beaming smileTo a kind, down to earth face, Surrounded by old club friendsOnce thought never to be seen againThe infinity course beckoned aheadEighteen holes were for mere mortal men. That is all.She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.Her diminished size is in me, not in her.And just at the moment when someone at my side says, There, she is gone! there are other eyes watching her coming, and there are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, Here she comes!And that is dying. Well think of all the moviesThat brought them laughter and tearsAnd though theyre gone from us nowIn our hearts, theyll always be near. You would need to contact the club directly try reception@mcc.org.uk to start with. Which is happier, man or boy?The soul of the father is steeped in joy,For hes finding out, to his hearts delight,That his son is fit for the future fight.He is learning the glorious depths of him,And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim.And he shall discover, when night comes on,How close he has grown to his little son. But I was patient and not het upEyes looking down, ears pricked like a pupId calmly wait to hear the callThe call that says this is the ball. Sunset and evening star,And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,When I put out to sea. MORE THYME! I know well they powerIn each trying hourThou servant so faithful and trueWhen the swift rushing windIs left muttering behindAs thou sippest the sweet morning dew. And I believe my voice will soundUpon the whispering windSo long as even one remainsAmong those I call friend.. 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 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. So darling please tend to the candle for meAnd nourish the flame lest it diesTill the day when its radiant beauty I seeAnd it guides me at last to your side. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. You were a blessing to us allyou were a special child.And were so glad God sent youto be with us awhile.
Woman Dies In Hiking Accident,
Taco Time Enchilada Sauce,
Srikanth Velamakanni Net Worth,
Pella Vet Jacket,
Articles C