You know you are foreverbut its easy when were hereJust a hand away from holdingand a hug away from fearSo you have to make a promisethat your hope will never runAnd you know Ill always ride hereeven when my ridings done. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Poems for those who enjoyed a bout in the ring, or who enjoyed taking in a big fight. Do you have a pavilion Lord?Where we could sit and talk?Can you give me lots of energySo that I am never short? Its not the model of your caror brand of clothes you wear.Its not some fancy, famous name,sewn in your underwear. "All is Well" by Henry Scott Holland. Of round . Where was I?Whats my time? There is an old belief that the stars shining in the night sky are the spirits of those who have died.They have shed their earthly bodies and exchanged them for bodies made of light;thousands upon thousands of our dear departed friends all promoted to glory in the night sky.There is another saying that the brightest flame burns the shortest. Badge Of A Yorkshireman anon A poem emphasising the qualities demonstrated by a true Yorkshireman. I guess he wrote a lot more in a similar vein. 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. 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. Bike like a rocket each sprocket fits its socket with well oiled smoothness of clockwork. They would put in the footings then forget to build the wall, and when they did it was neither short nor tall. This will be my final journeyI go with no regretsThe days weve had togetherHave been the very best. That man would rock me off to sleep,Would wipe my tears when I did weep.He watched me go from crawl to walk,And smiled with pride when I learned to talk. Poems for those who shared a passion for literature, or who worked in a literary setting during their life. Building A Legacy Mark Gregory A lovely little poem for a creative and passionate Lego builder.Lego House Britney Njomo I might be out of mindbut Im forever the queen of my Lego house.Ode To My Legos Dylan Harvey A poem ideal for the death of a child whose had a marvellous time with Lego. by | Jul 10, 2021 | opentimeclock 2004 login | list of navy reserve units | Jul 10, 2021 | opentimeclock 2004 login | list of navy reserve units But as the end of his life grew near,He lay on his bed with no fear:For he knew in his heartFlags will never departFrom this world they will fly loud and clear. Im just a farmer,Plain and simple.Not of a royal birthBut rather, a worker of the earth. I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth; I knew not where.For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight. Heaven lit up with a mighty presence,as the Angels all looked down.Today the Lord was placing the jewelsInto my mothers crown. They are not in any particular order or category as every person interprets a poem in their own way. My lifes journey ended early,The path I chose was short.You all tried your best to change it,But in the end it was for me to sort. 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. 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. 11 min read. They say I walk with ease.Though trained for bodily harm, my intentions are for peace.The world may come and go, but a different path Ill choose.A path I will not stray from, no matter, win or lose. After she died, I swear the skyHad the most beautiful of all sunsets,A blush of pink, then red, a glass of red,Sudden dark and a hammock moon,Then its faint silhouette, almost secret.Life half-written, half unsaid.I had kissed your head in the strange room.Then later, I blew a kiss to the stars, to regret. Sorry didnt read OP properly! If the juggler is tired now, if the broom standsIn the dust again, if the table starts to dropThrough the daily dark again, and though the plateLies flat on the table top,For him we batter our handsWho has won for once over the worlds weight. When a job was finished his tools had to be clean, because he was the boss of a slap-happy working team. Be and bebetter. My mind has ways of taking mewhere I dont want to go.I know I know you name, you see;Just right now its hard for meto think of things I really knowand to know what really is,and what may not be so. Perfect for him: right field inbaseball, an eccentrics positionthough he thought of drifting into otherfields beyond. Of course, you could also write your own. Just throw your best, and throw with zest,And remember the follow-through,And practice whenever you get the chanceIf you know whats good for you! 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. so sad, recurringWhat good amid these, O me, O life? Mum would cook our dinnerDad came home at fiveWe were all sitting at the tableWaiting for him to arrive. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. The archer and his bowNever cease to amaze;They are togetherThroughout all days. For you can feel the engine, as the revs rise at your command,Feeling the lusty thrust of power, that answers your demand,How the clutch feels underfoot, as each gear is selected,The steering too, how it responds, to where it is directed. 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. Roads go ever ever onUnder cloud and under star,Yet feet that wandering have goneTurn at last to home afar.Eyes that fire and sword have seenAnd horror in the halls of stoneLook at last on meadows greenAnd trees and hills they long have known. You said to look to the night skiesFor there is no other love so resoluteThat the feelings we grow for others;They are never absolute. Go up the rocks and wait; flushed apple-trees. The Trout Brook by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts. 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. A list of 10 most popular In Memoriam verses and poems to be used on Memorial Cards. Dont be sad for me todayFor me please do not weepCall upon your memoriesThey are yours to keep. I farmed the land,I tramped the wood,These are the thingsI understood. Theres a comedy book, Penguins Stop Play. Could I meet family and friends, Lord?All those who have gone before?Have you lots of seats for supporters?And markers who will score? The strings were tied, it was freshly washed, and maybe even pressed.For Grandma, it was every day to choose one when she dressed.The simple apron that it was, you would never think about.the things she used it for, that made it look worn out. As I grew older so did he,But that man was always there for meHis love, unspoken, but strong and clear,Of that, I have no doubt or fear. Or when Sol dips his crestNeath the glorious westAnd the sunlight congeals into darkWe will skim by the seaWe will shoot oer the leaWe will follow the meteors mark. O my goodness, whatever do I seeIs that a man coming over to meI feel a blush come from neck to my faceAnd my poor heart is beginning to race. 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. I Am A Martial Artist Karen Eden A poem about the pride and courage needed for various forms of martial art.Karate Is A Quiet Art Mark Gregory A reflection upon karate as a journey of self-discipline.Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art Daya Nandan A poem about the richness of martial arts.The Warriors Spirit Mark Gregory A poem about the strong, bold spirit of a fighter and warrior. The Candle anon A simple poem equating a candle to a guiding light that will help us reunite with our loved ones. When you hold this blanket in your armsAnd close your eyes real tightYou can feel the love I tucked insideWhen I made this late one night. 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. I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,And the wheels kick and the winds song and the white sails shaking,And a grey mist on the seas face and a grey dawn breaking. "A Meeting" by Edith Wharton. There are 2 types of captains in World Cricket. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. 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. You would need to contact the club directly try reception@mcc.org.uk to start with. You were a blessing to us allyou were a special child.And were so glad God sent youto be with us awhile. He selects the wood very carefullyThe grain and the colour so beautifullyLooking along the edge its straightAnd feeling it, it has a good weight, Remember to measure twice and cut onceIs the rule of thumb before you pounceHe knows the work and the craftsmans toolsAs he saws, planes and sands to carpenters rules, The joints are a woodworkers art and a pleasure to seeWhen glued together strong and straight it will beThe last piece of the carpenters work is at handTo finish is to wax the wood for a look thats grand. Her fingers wind the wool aroundWithout her even thinkingAnd rows and rows of stitches showWithout her even blinking. I will not cast the first stoneI have none in my handEven though your life at timesWas not how I had planned. A football team is only as good as its last game; the mood of supporters rises and falls with each result. Publication date 1905 Publisher London : Simpkin Collection cdl; americana Digitizing sponsor MSN Contributor University of California Libraries Language English. Death is an inevitable fate.Someday we have to go.You hope you didyour best in life,but how are you to know? I picture you in every placeAmong the trees and waters blueAnd every time it comes to mindIm grateful I had you. It'll knock you for six: the best poem ever written about cricket Simon Heffer 25 September 2018 7:00am Francis Thompson, poet and cricket enthusiast Credit: Getty The torrent of. 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. Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings. A product of where youve been, What youve done and what theyve seen, Theyve learnt most from the example you have set, So not totally to blame, Not too different, but the same, We all think we tried our very best, and yet? Ive seen them win, lose and draw, rush by in charging blur, Neck and neck, nose to nose, to the photo we refer, The weight is right, the track is fair, the sun will always shine, As once more past the Judges, and I cross that Finish Line. And then I thought, Everythingis a miracle, even the toadthat lives under the lilac bush,even the nasty-tempered robinthat steals the food from the other birds,even the little lump of claythat I, in my clumsy way,will shape into a potto hold some wildflowers,even the windthat scatters the leaves and the seedsand the tiny pebbles, eventhe rain that falls, even the sunthat makes everything grow. Members of the Club stand post,Proud brothers in the wind;Shaded eyes the tears disguise,And loss they feel within. Crickets Demi, Gods And Villains, by Rajnish Manga A Cricket Sang Good Luck, by Sandra Fowler, Hunter. And as I grow older its life I suppose But more and more things just get right up my nose!Like young mums with their kids and their stupid wee dolliesWho chat, blocking the aisles with their damned shopping trolleys.I barge my way past, just as rough as I can,So the bitches will know Im a grumpy old man. We pull out the chairs for whomever dares,The drinks and munchies set to spare,We argue over who will sit and where,And who will interpret the rules in despair. For each flag sitting foldedFor all the world to seeA soldiers spirit is soaringOer a nation that is free. 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. 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 fourth candle we light for our love. My Love, You Gave Yourself To Me anon A verse to be read by, or on behalf of, a grieving spouse. 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. 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. All these visions give me hopeThat death is not the endThat an eternity awaits usThat together we will spend. The audience is waitingFamiliar faces all aroundOnce again the baton strikesAnd I hear that familiar sound. Poems for those who suffered from Alzheimers during their life. Where the azure of the heavensMeets the undulating blue,Where the sweeping, soaring seagullFlies its endless quest for food.It is there that I would rest,When my work on earth is done,At the endless blue horizonNeath the crimson, setting sun. Poems for those who forged a career as a hair stylist, and had a passion for hair design. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. JavaScript is disabled. 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. Poems for those who suffered from terminal illness in their final years. 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! Your love of Gods soil has passed on to your kin; the stories flow like fine wine,Wash off your work boots in the puddle left by blessed rain one final time. The Song of the Reel by W. E. Hutchinson. Some time at eve when the tide is low,I shall slip my mooring and sail away,With no response to the friendly hailOf kindred craft in the busy bay.In the silent hush of the twilight pale,When the night stoops down to embrace the day,And the voices call in the waters flow-Some time at eve when the tide is low,I shall slip my mooring and sail away.Through the purpling shadows that darkly trailOer the ebbing tide of the Unknown Sea,I shall fare me away, with a dip of sailAnd a ripple of waters to tell the taleOf a lonely voyager, sailing awayTo the Mystic Isles where at anchor layThe crafts of those who have sailed beforeOer the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore.A few who have watched me sail awayWill miss my craft from the busy bay;Some friendly barks that were anchored near,Some loving souls that my heart held dear,In silent sorrow will drop a tearBut I shall have peacefully furled my sailIn mooring sheltered from storm and galeAnd greet the friends who have sailed beforeOer the Unknown Sea to the Unknown Shore. 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. Poems for those who excelled at the supple sport of gymnastics, at whatever level. Its been a long time since we first felt the beginning to this end.And today we pray before you; your family and your friends.Weve watched your thoughts get more obscure with every passing day;As this heartless thing called Alzheimers made them fade away.Gradually it took the gleam from those once so loving eyes.To befall on such a giving manit seemed so unjustified.Stripping you of everything, leaving nothing in its placeExcept a look of sadness left upon your face.As long as we have searched, through all the tears weve criedWeve tried to find the reason for this long good-bye.But now its time to take back all your memoriesAs you are finally free from this cruel disease.We pledge to remember the man that you once were;A good hearted, giving man is all that will be heard.And every night when we look up and see a certain starWe will know within our hearts exactly where you are.So on this day we say good-bye as you now depart.Although far from our touch, never far from our hearts. Life is chess.There is always a competitor;one side is always dealt a better hand,pressure to win for bothpressure to impress. 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. The empty spots beckon; They yearn to be filled And if Im successful Im quietly thrilled. An opal-hearted country, a wilful, lavish land All you who have not loved her, you will not understand Though earth holds many splendours, wherever I may die,I know to what brown country my homing thoughts will fly. A ball will bounce; but less and less. To lose ones wealth is sad indeed,To lose ones health is more,To lose ones soul is such a lossThat no man can restore. Yet how he laughed and won our love,though some showed a stunned surprise.Turning away, afraid to lookor even meet eyes. 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. The worst berets you have ever seen(pics appreciated)? If we treat each other with respectAnd more often wear a smile,Remembering this special dashMight only last a little while. So let us honour and rememberThe warriors spirit that lives onFor it will be with us foreverIn every battle, lost or won. Its always opening time in heavenAnd the alcohol doesnt go to your headIt floats around in ones etherAnd fortifies your spirit instead. Bartenders Prayer anon A lovely little poem about the wishes of a bartender every evening before the bar opens.The Last Barman Poet Tom Cruise The poem from the 1988 film Cocktail.My Shift Is Over Mark Gregory A poem about the varied role that a bartender takes on while entertaining his punters. The music stops,And yet it echoes onIn sweet refrains;For every joy that passes,Something beautiful remains. 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. Remember with every stitchAnd every knot tiedLook how youve all grownTogether where we call home. "Mark Twain. 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! Id like to leave but daffodilsto mark my little way,To leave but tulips red and whitebehind me as I stray;Id like to pass away from earthand feel Id left behindBut roses and forget-me-notsfor all who come to find.
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