For that dash represents all the timeThat they spent alive on earth;And now only those who loved themKnow what that little line is worth. t206 walter johnson portrait; family jealous of my success Poems about people who liked a drink - in a healthy way. And a digital membership where you can read all the digital magazines is normally 25, and now 12.50 with the code. If theyd only see the truth, In this masquerade of youth, A parents job would be one of far less stress, But they crave the grog and smokes, Hang around with the wrong blokes, And dont ever dare advise them how to dress. Hey, you guys, dont feel guilty,It was just my time to go.I can see youre all feeling sad,I can see the tears still flow. You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. 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. Poems about people who liked a drink in a healthy way. No grand schemes,They passed me by.I knew the brook,The hills, the sky. 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. Unknown Life is simply a cricket match, with temptation as the bowler. One day youll take your journeyOn the train just like meAnd I promise that Ill be thereAt the station and you will see: That life is just a journeyEnriched by those you meetNo-one can take that from youIts always yours to keep. Profanity : Our optional filter replaced words with *** on this page , What I hear as I type: Crickets Chirping. 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. Where the Oriole swellsHis throat as he tellsOf his flight through ethereal spaceAnd his music flowsWhile the earths reposeIs deeper because of his grace. 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. If I could fly like a birdmy face would touch thethe clouds while myfeathers hit the groundas the wind cools medown. 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! To be free of regretIn your old age,Never ever forgetTo fully live today! And there youll see the gardeners, the men and prentice boysTold off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words. Its notA light-hearted thing, resents its own resilience.Falling is what it loves, and the earth fallsSo in our hearts from brilliance,Settles and is forgot.It takes a sky-blue juggler with five red balls. 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. So, our sweetYoull never be goneCause your laughter and loveWill always shine through. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. Theres not a pair of legs so thin, theres not a head so thick,Theres not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.But it can find some needful job thats crying to be done,For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one. The audience is waitingFamiliar faces all aroundOnce again the baton strikesAnd I hear that familiar sound. 1. The present only is our own,So live, love, toil with a will,Place no faith in Tomorrow,For the Clock may then be still. 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. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. A Fleeting Image Avi Fleischer A beautiful poem about life with several artistic metaphors.Go On With The Day Silvia Hartmann A poem urging those left behind to marvel at the beauty and art within life.Importance of Art Komal Jindal A poem highlighting the deceaseds artistic achievements.We Are All Painters Ola Radka A short verse arguing that everyone paints their life with beauty and emotion. This is the end of serviceFor it and one you loveA subtle juxtapositionOf which is up above. Go on with the day,go on with the night,enjoy the richeslife has to offer. "At Lords" by Francis Thompson is pretty well-known (above wiki > cricket poetry > poems). All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. He will hold you in his arms and the angels will sing. So sleep now with the angels,And your golden heart let rest.Although our hearts are broken,We know God took the best. Just let me laugh with every tree,let me be barefoot and free,let every rock be overturned,let every blade of grass be learned,let the sky sleep over mewhile I am watching underneath let me weave a daisy chainto make into a bloomin wreath.Give me a flowered path to climb,I need no food, I need no bed,just let me live while Im aliveand I will rest when I am dead. I can talk as we rollAnd I know that a soulMust lurk in thy wonderful frameA spiritual essenceSome far hidden presenceSome genius of magical fame. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. Death is too negative for meSo Ill be popping off for a long cup of teaDo splash out on two bags in the potAnd for my gods sake keep the water hotPlease pick the biggest mug you can findSize really does matter at this timeIll pass on the lapsang with that souchongAnd that stuff with bergamotAnd stick with my favourite friendYou know the English breakfast blendBreakfast! Together were in this relationship,We built it with care to last the whole trip,Our true destinations not marked on any charts;Were navigating to the shores of the heart. I've picked 10 of my favourite funeral verses including a special funeral poem for a Dad. There are 2 types of captains in World Cricket. Turned out from my hipsNo words coming from my lipsI dance sweetly to the soundOoh ballet, to you, I am bound. Stand upon the mountainRaise your wings up highCast aside the chains of fearTrust and you will fly. Dance with the wavesMove with the seaLet the rhythm of the waterSet your soul free. Achievement and SuccessActingAddictionAlcoholAlzheimersAnimalsArcheryArtistsAstronomyAthleticsAuntsBabies and ChildrenBartendingThe BeachBell RingingBingoBirdsBoard GamesBoats and SailingBooksBowlsBoxingBricklayingBrothersButterfliesCalmnessCamping and CaravanningCandlesCars and DrivingCardsCarpentryCavingClimbingClocksCoffeeCookingThe CountrysideCricketCrosswordsCyclingDanceDartsDaughtersDementiaDisabilityDivingFamilyFarmingFashionFathersFilmsFirefightingFishingFlagsFlowersFootballFossilsFriendsGardeningGolfGrandfathersGrandmothersGymnasticsHairdressingHippiesHorse RacingImperfectionJewelleryJugglingKnittingLaughterLegoMartial ArtsMemoriesMothersMotorcyclingMusicNaturePositivityRowingSelflessnessSpousesTeaTen-Pin BowlingTerminal IllnessTrainsUnclesYorkshire. So long as love and hope and dreamsAbide in earth and sky,Weep not for me, though I be gone.I shall not really die. The fourth candle we light for our love. Afterglow - Helen Lowrie Marshall 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. Then gracefully his arm went outHe knew how he would bowl itWrong bias there!, then came the shoutWouldnt ya bloody know it!Here is a little message Make it a golden rule Always check your biasAnd you wont be a fool! But a heaven is easier made of nothing at allThan the earth regained, and still and sole withinThe spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and nobleHe reels that heaven in,Landing it ball by ball,And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table. All these visions give me hopeThat death is not the endThat an eternity awaits usThat together we will spend. 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. It wasnt easy watching youOf that I wont denyAnd Im not ashamed to sayThat there were times I cried. The peewees in the town park are distinctive in their call,And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall,And for one who will not breathe again, the eulogy is read,And the funeral bell is tolling, in memory of the dead. The Driver Graeme Cook A gorgeous poem for those who felt at one with their car, rather than merely driving it.Fast Car Jamie Blake A hectic poem ideal for some who drove fast and perhaps passed away in a motoring accident.Racing Car Poem Martin Dejnicki A poem about racing, perhaps Formula 1, and the adrenaline rush it produces.Whos Driving This Car? 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. Unknown As a baby they were cute,And as a toddler, really beaut,How proud you were at their first day at school,But then they started growing, And acting without knowing,Just started to become a touch less cool. Musically, perhaps a bit sentimental, "When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease" by Roy Harper. Through the curves, around the ton, Down the last hill, over-run, City lights below are glowing, Common sense, bike is slowing, Reality, once more it bites, To draw me back from dizzy heights, Down the driveway, to home I glide, Wish my mate was by my side! I wish I could give you many more years.I wish I could erase away all of your tears. The photograph above was unearthed from the countless images to be found on the web. The slapping of my leathersand raging winds on either side,drum a beat of sweet contentmentas I ride this, my last ride. and play the game!") mourned the tragedy of war through the metaphor of schoolboy cricket and he came to resent the poem's use in propaganda . When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear. The Road goes ever on and on,Down from the door where it began.Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with eager feet,Until it joins some larger wayWhere many paths and errands meet.And whither then? If they mention a 'he' or 'she' you can always change that. I cannot speak, but I can listen. 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?) To hunt a bird,To wet a line,Gifts from God,So good and fine. It was a heaven houseThe books were there, and so were people whoLoved reading them, and that is all that matters. Maybe the glorious legends, from Phar Lap to the Diva, That leaves me so infected, with the flush of racing fever, The buzz as they are mustered, from the starting gate they lurch, With the Form Guide as my bible, the racetrack as my church. So let us ride to help make others aware.That the roads that we ride are for all to share. 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. You know Ill never leave youeven when Im far awayIn the moments when the words stopand your breath gets in the wayI will softly say I love youbarely louder than the breezeSo I hope you gently listento my voice between the trees. 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. Someday when Im all grown up,Youre what I want to be.Then I will have a little childWholl want to follow me. As you bid me farewell this one last timeSpray me with natures flowers and loveFor I will need those memoriesAs I watched you from above. A Day At The Races Graeme Cook A verse about the wonders and marvels of spending a day at the racetrack.The Last Race Barbara Ogilvie A poem highlighting betting on horses as the core of the deceaseds life.The Music Of The Morn Fran Cleland A poem highlighting the wondrous thump of hooves on turf in the morning.Racing Through My Eyes Henry Birtles A wonderful poem that captures the unique atmosphere trackside.When The Ridings Done J. P. Gorham A poem suggesting the spirit of a horse rider will always endure at the track. No more a watch to stand, Old Sailor.For you are drifting on an ebbing tide.Eight Bells has rung. 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. She had a collection, an unusual collection, Of four thousand and forty two, Colourful, shapely, dangly rings, From green to gold to blue. A Boy and His Dad by Edgar A. Kayaking Mark Gregory A poem about the peace and calm that one experiences on the water.The Oarsmans Song Steve Fairbairn A rhythmic poem about the hypnotic motion of a rower in full flight.Rowing In Eden Mark Gregory A short but touching poem about two friends drifting towards heaven. You radiate warmth like a blazing fire.You are courage and wisdom. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. You are a breath of fresh air on a hot summers night.When there is darkness, you turn on the light. thanks for reminding meTheres just time before I failTo stand on ceremonyTwo rashers of best back, Should keep meSmelling sweet up the smokestackSo, mother, put the kettle on for meIts time, mother, for my long cup of tea. 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. Where words fail,music speaks.It speaks of the pain,of the sorrow,of the lost,of the life we live.It shares emotions.Its a way to connect,to understandwhat others feel.Where words fail,music speaks.It tells the truthwhether you want it to or not.Music shares the soulsof those were around,of those in the worldthat were living.I wish to sharemy music with youSo you can understandthe pain I feel,so I can share my soul with you,so you can understandWhat Im going through. The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawnand he names the sky his own. There . One, two, three, four,This is the life that I adore,Five, six, seven, eight,To the end of the stage, and there I wait. But now youre gonebut yet youre hereWell sense you everywhere.You are our sorrow and our joy,Theres love in every tear. Death is Not the End How could such blazing colour leave? If you can lend a hand, when hand is needed,And with your clubmates, you can take your turn,So, marking, clocking, checking can be speeded,And each and every job you thus will learn.If you can join the throng at payout dinner,And laugh and joke and join in all the fun,And really mean it when you clap each winner,Yet know fulwell that you have nowt to come. And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress eyebrow. That our caravanning days togetherHave now ended that is trueBut travel on my darlingAnd think of me as you do. My Old Fishing Boat by Isaac McLellan. These funeral poems and readings are reflective and comforting. Whilst it's fictional and set in the 1920s it neatly sums up all that's good, quirky and, dare I say it, English about the game when played at grass roots village level. )Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renewd,Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,The question, O me! Uncle And Friend Michaella A. Molinski A poem for an uncle who was also considered a friend. Ring out old shapes of foul disease;Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;Ring out the thousand wars of old,Ring in the thousand years of peace. All is lost in due time. Rejoice now in the knowledgeReturned to you this dayYouve always had the powerTo simply fly away. Farewell, friends! Sweetheart, I love youBut I cannot bind you to meI see the longing in your eyeswhile you are watching these mountainsthose sunsets. In this guide: Popular funeral poems and verses; Happy and funny funeral poems; Short funeral poems; Non-religious funeral poems; Popular funeral poems and verses. Alcohol. Cave of wonderscaverns so deepthrough vast rooms I wanderso many secrets to keep. BINGO, I shout, its my timeI finally got to complete that line! We did so much togetherrode in carsshared our lovenear the campfireWith soft and tender armsTamed broken pasts. Its always opening time in heavenAnd the alcohol doesnt go to your headIt floats around in ones etherAnd fortifies your spirit instead. Keeping the attendees engaged with a brief but heartfelt poem can be a good way to make. They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. My mums playing Bingo in heavenWith a happy smile on her faceIf shed known there was a Bingo hall in heavenShed have looked more forward to the place!Past 78 and heavens gateIts 83 and time for teaWith 61 and a bakers bunAnd no queue for the lavatory!After 41 and time for fun,Shes won with 54 and wiped the floorI really do thank my lucky starsMy mum landed in heaven instead of on Mars! So dry your tears and smile a smileYou arent alone, you seeYou have this special blanketIts my love, a part of me. As the flag is lowered to half mast,We mourn the loss of one who has passed.A lover of flags, they stood so proud,A symbol of freedom, they did avow. The pain of losing you is as intense as our love for you. Long, long afterward, in an oakI found the arrow, still unbroke.And the song, from beginning to end,I found again in the heart of a friend. When I speak your name,It brings back memoriesOf you dancing for joyOr maybe playing with a toy. The fire tone rang. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. Sir Henry Newbolt's "Vitai Lampada" ("Play up! This poem by Robert Burns describes a friend who is an honest man, a guide to youth and an informed human being. Seasonal Poetry, Bette A. Stevens, Maine Author. From the first time that you hold em,Through every time you scold em,And every soiled nappy that youve changed,From all the crap you saw,They will always dish out more,Its just the way that children are arranged. 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. Poems perfect for those who liked to while away the hours engrossed in some table-top magic. You can click on a topic of interest, and youll then find a collection of readings on that topic and a short summary of each, and you can click or scroll again to be taken to the full text. He knew that you were suffering,He knew you were in pain;He knew that you would neverGet well on earth again. I dont give a jot!Ive railed and Ive raved since my dotage beganIts my privilege, cos Im a grumpy old man. 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. - "Everything brown is not chocolate.". 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! Do you have a pavilion Lord?Where we could sit and talk?Can you give me lots of energySo that I am never short? You loved the game, with all your heart,You chased the ball with might,You ran and kicked and passed and shot,With skill and speed and fight. Then at the very endWhen they were on their kneesYou still walked tallAnd like your matesYou claimed to take it allThe penalty and the strike,your wayThe win that set your heart aflameThe game, the pitch, the offside ruleThe love that took your heartYour final match at home your ball. Our LeatherWhich we hit with willowBoundaries be thy aimThy googly comesThy may be out as it isAccording to the Umpires fingerGive us this day our daily inningsAnd forgive us our LBWsAs we forgive them that stump usLead us not back to the pavilionBut deliver us from a duckFor thine is a silly mid offWith a deep backward short legAnd cover pointFor over and overOwzat! God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. Similar . As you learned lifes messagesNo matter how hardThe laughter and love always shone through. 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 . These are examples of the best cricket poems written by PoetrySoup members Home Submit Poems Login Sign Up Member Home My Poems My Quotes My Profile & Settings My Inboxes My Outboxes Soup Mail Contests Poems Poets Famous Poems Famous Poets Dictionary Types of Poems Quotes Short Stories Articles Forum Blogs Poem of the Day New Poems Resources . 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. Ive grown up with your values,And Im very glad I did;So heres to you, dear father,From your forever grateful kid. Lyrics from google. 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. Dear God, Please Take Care Of My Little Girl Terry Gouveia A religious poem asking God to take care of a child.Heartfelt Memories anon A poem highlighting the wonder and light that a daughter brought to our lives.My Tiny Butterfly Ann Lundrigan A poem about a mothers bond with her daughter, who has passed.Our Song Jodi M. Kucera A poem to be used for the loss of a daughter who has children of her own.The Twilight Hours Christine Bevington A poem about those late night hours when your thoughts carry you away. Poems about trains, perfect for those who loved everything locomotive. But in my heart you will be,moving forward, you with me. When I do finally reach that triple pirouetteand all is done and all is setI put myself back into classAiming for a fourth, to be better than the last. In life, they waved the colours high,In death, they still reach for the sky.Their love for the flag, it never did fade,Their spirit lives on, in the fabric they craved. Ive seen her use that apronTo wipe her dripping browAs she laboured over the big rangeThats just an antique now. 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. 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! Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. He has achieved successwho has lived well,laughed often, and loved much;who has enjoyed the trust ofpure women,the respect of intelligent men andthe love of little children;who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;who has left the world better than he found itwhether by an improved poppy,a perfect poem or a rescued soul;who has never lacked appreciation of Earths beautyor failed to express it;who has always looked for the best in others andgiven them the best he had;whose life was an inspiration;whose memory a benediction.