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. 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. She dances on the balance beam,So light, so free, so full of grace,Her body moves with effortless ease,In this, her chosen place. One is MS Dhoni and the other are the all others. The archer and his bowCelebrate victory!The greatest of allThe archers in history. 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. and fought to the last breath. Cosmopolitan House, Old Fore Street, Sidmouth, Devon, EX10 8LS, Contact : customerservices@thefuneralpoem.com. 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. Did you know when you posed for that photoThat it would represent my sincerest dreams?Did you know, posing, letting yourself goThat you would represent all of loves themes? 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. But now you are gone,and with you the aromaof your favourite roast. Poems for those who excelled at the supple sport of gymnastics, at whatever level. It's a powerful memorial poem to celebrate someone who knew they were dying and lived life to its fullest up until their last breath. In the Theatre Of DreamsThe lights have dimmedThe curtains about to close, Its the end of the showSadly it happened you knowLife just ebbs and flows, The cast in my lifeWere my children, my wifeNow only memories fill my head, I have lived all my dreamsNow its the end of the sceneMy script has finally been read, When you walk through a stormHold your head up highAnd dont be afraid of the dark, At the end of a stormTheres a golden skyAnd the sweet silver song of a lark, Walk on through the windWalk on through the rainFor your dreams be tossed and blown, Walk on, walk onWith hope in your heartAnd youll never walk aloneYoull never walk alone. It broke our hearts to lose you,You did not go alone,For part of us went with you,the day God called you home. 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. A timers ringing in my earThe dish of my lifetime is finally hereLove, family, friendship and cakeIngredients that really helped keep me awakeBut Ive now run out of that most important of allIve scoured the kitchen and even searched the hallIf only Id been more sage with my thymeAnd possibly quaffed alittleless wineSo please stand and shout with me, if you dont mindMORE THYME! You raised a fine family, worked the land well and always followed the Son,Hang up your shovel inside of the barn; your work here on earth is done. Sweetheart, I love youBut I cannot bind you to meI see the longing in your eyeswhile you are watching these mountainsthose sunsets. These top poems in list format are the best examples of rugby poems written by PoetrySoup members. Your email address will not be published. For you had got Alzheimers,You failed to comprehend.Your body went on living.But your mind had reached its end. Now both of us have been to school though many years ago we both have passed our English gradesbut still we do not know! Camping Kaitlyn DeMatteo A short verse contemplating the wonders of camping out under the stars.I Feel You Drifting Darren White A moving, heartfelt verse written by a partner to their lost lover.This Journey Is Just Beginning Ju D. G. A lament upon having to part, but hopeful of what might be to come. 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. Soft whistlingBats perched on the ceilingTears of the cavesDripping and echoingGentle lapping waterAcross rocking shoresGlowing mushrooms andGlowing wormsStalactites and stalagmitesShuddering in placeWarm, soft breathsOf bears who hibernateThe cave is sleepingBut very aliveAnd it is singingA mournful goodbye. And in my fleeting lifespan,as time went rushing byI found some time to hesitate,to laugh, to love, to cry Matters it now if time beganIf time will ever cease? I seek the West,and fields and mountains ever blest. When I come to the end of my journeyand I travel my last weary mile,just forget, if you can, that I ever frownedand remember only the smile.Forget unkind words I have spoken;remember some good I have done.Forget that I ever had heartache,And remember Ive had loads of fun.Forget that Ive stumbled and blunderedand sometimes fell by the way.Remember I have fought some hard battlesand won, ere the close of the day.Then forget to grieve for my going;I would not have you sad for a day,but in summer just gather some flowersand remember the place where I lay,and come in the shade of the eveningwhen the sun paints the sky in the west.Stand for a few moments beside meand remember only my best. The warmth of your lovewas like the steam risingfrom a freshly brewed cupof coffeeinvigorating,comforting,and with every sipI felt more alive. 1. To the likes of you and me?So, my friends, come walk a while, the futures ours to see. Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Its everything you sacrificedand choices you made.Its all the problems that you solved,your lessons from mistakes. J.G. Like life. The birds and the nearby bubbling brookAre the only sounds that I hearThe click of the freewheel of courseAnd the wind whistling by my ear. 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. I get to know them, one and all;Some come in every night!All shapes and sizes, big and small:I make sure theyre alright. 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! A place of work where people doAs if about to do: concentratesThe readers face, lift up the lampTo look for something in the book, and turnThe page, and then read on and lift it upAgain. This traverse may the poorest takeWithout oppress of toll;How frugal is the chariotThat bears a human soul! The Darkness Of The Theatre Mark Gregory A fitting poem for someone who loved watching movies at the cinema.Funeral Blues W. H. Auden The now famous poem thanks to its recital in the film Four Weddings and a Funeral.O Me! Chris Gayle Cricket is a team game. So as the sun sets on my life, a life that was well-lived,I hope that those Ive left behind remember well my gift,And though I have stopped searching, one thing I know is true:My endless love for fossils will never really be through. Here is the funeral poem: Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Her creations all made with such skill and such careLove knitted into the gifts who would shareA jacket for a baby, a blanket or twoIn almost every shade from pink to blue. But now my shift is overIve done my very bestLast orders; its time for closureAnd time for me to rest. 3. And the bar stayed open all day. Aunt Mabel Don Geiger A poem written for a specific aunt, but which many nieces and nephews can relate to.My Aunt Megan Stokes A poem written for an aunt but can be used for a generic female role model.What My Aunt Meant To Me anon A beautiful poem indicating the place in our hearts that our aunt held. Were not saying that you were mean,But your wallet, seldom seen,Youd complain and mutter on,And yet were sad that you are gone. Neville Cardus is still the gold standard for cricket-related purple prose. Funeral Poems For Cricketers "A Cricketer's Last Boundary" &In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.& Robert Frost, &What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.&Albert Pike, &The fear of death follows from the fear of life. Top 10 Funeral Poems: Beautiful Poems for Funerals Although we fell and stumbled at times,all those hills were necessary climbs. Poems for those who were avid football fans or skilled football players. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). 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. I will miss youOh so much.So will allThe lives thatYou haveTouched. Goodbye, to you, with whom Ive shared,This wondrous gift of life.Enjoy the dance, lifes sweet refrain,For love is timeless as the stars,And I will dance with you again. Last Journey Timothy Coote A rhythmic poem ideal for someone who loved locomotives. Some travel afar, others stay nearbySome pedal fast, some slowBut in common with the lot of usIs the desire to just go. - "Everything brown is not chocolate.". Bird feels the enchantment of his wingand in ten fine notes dispels twenty cares.Bells in the town alight with springWarble the praise of time, for he can bringthis season: chimes the merry heaven bearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease - Wikipedia Short Poems For Funerals: Simple Messages For The Grieving How did you find the energy, MumTo do all the things you did,To be teacher, nurse and counsellorTo me, when I was a kid? Your love for coffee was a passion,A way to start each day anew.It gave you strength and courage,To do the things you had to do. Tell me, what does it look like in heaven?Is it peaceful? The driver sees it differently, with their car becomes a part,Take the road together, hit the road, with a single beating heart,The turbos rising wail, and the exhausts muscled, subtle growl,To the drivers ear, an orchestra, theres music in that howl. You were a loving, caring granddad.You were there for me a lot.You will always hold a place in my heart,A loving, treasured spot. 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. She had a collection, an unusual collection, Of four thousand and forty two, Colourful, shapely, dangly rings, From green to gold to blue. 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. 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. We sit a whileWe guess bird namesWe look them upWe watch bird games. 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. Crystals form almost uniformwhere many cave creatures are bornflowing walls made of stonebeautiful formations have grown. Death is an inevitable fate.Someday we have to go.You hope you didyour best in life,but how are you to know? cricket poems for funerals. We forged our bond with love, not tears,Linking arms, we walked as one,Now is my turn to rest a while,I have reached the final stile,But you must carry on. The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slipperd pantaloon,With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;His youthful hose, well savd, a world too wideFor his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,Turning again toward childish treble, pipesAnd whistles in his sound. In the end,only one gets to brag.The first to kiss,the checkered flag. Donald Bradman quote: The game of cricket existed long Skylarking, Tales In Rhyme For The Youthful "Cricket Choir Grand Rapids Cricket Club, by Julia Ann Moore, Cricket, s : Wilson, George Francis :, Download Issa's Untidy Hut: Cricket Songs: Japanese Haiku, Tingling Catch: Cecil W Pierces 1894 Australian cricket. Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not madeBy singing:Oh, how beautiful! and sitting in the shade,While better men than we go out and start their working livesAt grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives. Verses are listed by category, and alphabetically. He employed an incompetent plumber who always gave him the pip, Every job he went on he always left a drip.He was a good Brickie I would say he was first class but when it came to his team, they were just total Arse! That you are herethat life exists and identity,That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. Remember Me. You want for them the best,But they put you to the test,And seem intent, your efforts to defy,Beseech, threaten, teach or cheer,They so seldom seem to hear,No matter how bloody hard you may try. Poems for those people who enjoyed collecting fossils, or, indeed, were amateur or professional palaeontologists. He saw the road was getting roughAnd the hills were hard to climb,So he closed your weary eyelidsAnd whispered, Peace be thine.. Funeral Poems - Moving Poetry for Memorial Services | Stoneletters 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. If I could fly like a birdmy face would touch thethe clouds while myfeathers hit the groundas the wind cools medown. It made me laugh, it made me cry.Im unable to explain Ive never known such happinessI did not foresee the pain. 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. Tiny Angel rest your wingsSit with me for awhile.How I long to hold your hand,And see your tender smile. We think about the fleeting yearsToo quickly, gone for goodIt seems like only yesterday;We would go back if we could. 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. We pushed them and we shoved them, Tolerated, and loved them, Glad we had them, at times we dont know why, Pray they do stay out of strife, Make the best of their sweet life, Cant bear the thought that one day they may die. "You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted." I hope youre dancing in the skyAnd I hope youre singing in the angels choirAnd I hope the angels know what they haveIll bet its so nice up in heaven since you arrivedI hope you are dancing in the sky. Do Not Ask Me To Remember Owen Darnell A poem about how much dementia patients need their family.Mum Alison Howard A poem about dementia originally written for a mother that can be adjusted to any relation.That You Remember Me Daniel Mark Extrom A poem urging family to always remember their lost loved ones.You Have Dementia, That Is True anon A poem reflecting the challenges that come with dementia later in life.Walk With Me Norma McNamara An uplifting poem about staying positive in the face of dementia. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime. O Magic wheel of burnished steelHow part of myself thou art.As we roll alongMid the hurrying throngThat peoples the busy mart. 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. The last time he cut his mothers hairthe rude morning sunleft no corner of her kitchen private,the light surgically cleanwhere it fell on his scissors.Her hair fell in a blonde circleon the lake blue tilesmell of coffeeand cinnamon; her laughingshook her head, Hold still, he said,his hands surfeit with the curland softness of her hair. There . And rumble off to clubhouse forA changing of the brew;Black vests in formationfastand tighta loud tribute. Guided by the Lonely Star,beyond the utmost harbour-bar,Ill find the heavens fair and free,and beaches of the Starlit Sea.Ship, my ship! I have been on the razzle-dazzleFull many a time since then;But I never could get the chemistTo brew that drink again.He says hes forgotten the notion Twas only by chance it came Hes tried me with various liquidsBut oh! 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. So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. Years were not easy, many downright hard, but your faith in God transcended,Put away your tools and sleep in peace. Youve also got some sweeties.Isnt Nana kind?I may have stolen one or two,But I knew you wouldnt mind. Poems for those who had a love of candles and incense, or poems that evoke candles and candlelight. 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. This kid fights great. And then I thought, I am a partof all this, and I felta great happiness,and I opened the book againand began to read. Well think of all the moviesThat brought them laughter and tearsAnd though theyre gone from us nowIn our hearts, theyll always be near. This isnt how it was supposed to be!The world carries on like nothing has happened, but not me. Haiku I wrote whilst out at some live jazz back in October, when it was warm enough for crickets. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tideIs a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,And the flung spray and the blown spume and the seagulls crying. 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. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. When your own words fail you, a poem can serve as a perfect funeral reading or eulogy. And then the justice,In fair round belly with good capon lind,With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,Full of wise saws and modern instances;And so he plays his part. I must be off to the links again,For the call of the fairways wideIs a loud call, and a clear callThat cannot be denied.It fills me with a mad desire to realiseMy dreams of tee-shots long,And irons strongTo the heart of all the greens. 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.. 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. Poems for those who brought laughter into our lives. Now Grandmas gone to heaven,But her quilts will long remain,Their beauty and their warmth live on,A comforting, loving refrain.

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