Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea; And the hunter home from the hill. 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. The funeral bell is pealing for one, a last farewell,And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell.Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky,For one bound for his/her last resting place the cemetery nearby. 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. Whee, in the airThe balls roll around, wheel on his wheeling hands,Learning the ways of lightness, alter to spheresGrazing his finger ends,Cling to their courses there,Swinging a small heaven about his ears. 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. I imagine you greetingThe others that I loveThat sadly left this earthFor a home with you above. 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. 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 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. We had a wonderful grandmotherOne who never really grew oldHer smile was made of sunshineAnd her heart was solid gold. My pencil is ready; The boxes are bare. You came into this lifetime for a purpose,You may have followed someones footsteps,orMay have followed your dream,Maybe you just joined to drive with lights and sirens,butYou made it your life. Not a day goes by, dadThat you dont cross our minds.Not all of you departedWhen you left our earth behind. Though your heart wont let the sadnessSimply slide awayThe echoes will diminishEven though the memories stay. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. The ball swung, swerved and darted, A Bowlers Prayer anon A short, light-hearted, slightly religious verse praising the game of ten-pin bowling. I may not even be who you think I am,or even who you want me to be.You wish for me to be more like you,Why cant you be more like me? Where houses stand and turf once lay. When you decide to call me LordIn Your special way,Could there be a team one player shortWho might ask me to play? *Replace Pemaquid Point with any relevant geographical location. Villanelle Of Spring BellsBells in the town alight with springconverse, with a concordance of new airsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry. 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. Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. You truly inspire. who will be next?want to face me?come on dont be shy! Its any time that youve been proudof others or yourself.Its every song you turned up loud,and every friend you helped. Remember how we made our special dateSame day of the week and at the same placeBehaving like young teenagers we wereTho wed been married many a year. Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! I thought I saw her face todayIn the sparkle of the morning sun.And then I heard the angel say,Her work on earth is done., I thought I heard her voice todayThen laugh her hearty laugh.And then I heard the angel say,Theres peace, little one, at last., I thought I felt her touch todayIn the breeze that rustled by.And then I heard the angel say,The spirit never dies., I thought that she had left meFor the stars so far above.And then I heard the angel say,She left you with her love., I thought that I would miss herAnd never find my way.And then I heard the angel say,Shes with you every day.. He knew that you were suffering,He knew you were in pain;He knew that you would neverGet well on earth again. Its my special message just for youIts private and from my soulI want you to remember me,Though impossible to console, My words, my love, are meant for youAnd reaches from my heartI just dont know how to live,Now we are apart, And so I whisper to the petalsThe words I want to saySo they will be carried by the angelsFrom my heart, to you, this day, I breath and place this rose,gently upon your tomb.And feel your presence, and your love,in this very room. Ill walk, Ill talk,And go through the motionsBut every step will be my love,for you,my daily devotions. Last dogwatch done.Now a new berth awaits you on the other side. You make me creative which makes me fun!You made me realise that you are not fun sometimes.You are tuff and mean when I step on you.You make me happy to see you new and cool in the store or online.You are colourful and small but together you are majestically massive.Sometimes I misplace you, but when Im focused I find you soon.You are fun when you are together, but not when you are done.My dog thinks you are food crunch! One more day to sing our song, Close To You,and listen to you sing it to your son too. Did you say 'over'? "And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. Standing and waiting for the race of life to beginIm getting quite nervous.Am I going to win? Twenty-four numbers and one free space,Bingo players, find your place!Hoping to win if you are ableWith the cards that lay upon the table. Aunts have no wands or wings,So they work with wisdom, love, and things.Having taken on this role,You loved me right down to my soul. You left this life so quicklyand I am left to mourn Yet precious memories fill my heartsince the day that you were born. But then that week I held her handAnd it slipped away one last timeAnd now theyre in a better placeThose hands that once held mine. we missThe joy that liesIn labour, and in thisGrow old before our time.The gardeners artIs Natures own,And he who tends a partTends the whole.The noblest work of manIs to add beauty to the world. With no maps to guide us we steered our own course,Rode out the storms when the winds were gale force,Sat out the doldrums in patience and hope:Working together we learned how to cope. Its everything you sacrificedand choices you made.Its all the problems that you solved,your lessons from mistakes. Think of me as one at rest,for me you should not weepI have no pain no troubled thoughtsfor I am just asleepThe living thinking me that was,is now forever stillAnd life goes on without me now,as time forever will. Abraham Lincoln. When things go wrong as they sometimes willWhen the road youre running seems all uphillWhen the funds are low, and the debts are highAnd youre trying to smile but you have no sighWhen cares are pressing you down a bit,Rest if you must,But dont you quit. 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. Her arms both glittered, her legs glistened, Her neck was a twinkle on display, She was a shiny beautiful colourful star, When she walked throughout the day. 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. 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. Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings. At PoemSearcher.com find thousands of poems categorized into thousands of categories. " When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease " is a track on the Roy Harper album HQ, a prominent example of cricket poetry. But now their time on earth is doneAnd we gather to say goodbyeWell remember them very fondlyAs we look up at the night sky. 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 now I have another child,perfect in every way;I know Ive seen that smile before,and this time, its here to stay. We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.That beyond the pain there can be healing.That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.That beyond the anger there may be peace.That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.That beyond the silence there may be the word.That beyond the word there may be understanding.That through understanding there is love. 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. A candle burns bright in a window of goldA beacon for lifes weary heartPromising beauty and splendours untoldOf a world that now keeps us apart. That taketh all things under wing. A ball will bounce; but less and less. When my bowling ball reaches the end of the alleyI hope for a strike.And when my life culminates in a dramatic finale,Heres what Id like: Id like to look back and not to feel blue;But to know that I rumbled through life straight and true.Id like to laugh at all the times I made your sides split,With moments of hilarity, of humour and of wit. Someday when Im all grown up,Youre what I want to be.Then I will have a little childWholl want to follow me. You may think of me in your waking hoursAnd on those sleepless nightsJust look out of the window and youll find meThat brightest star, that dazzling light. I pray that once Ive donned my padsAnd walked out to the square,That none of my nicks find a palm,And that I score my share. 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? I pour the steaming liquid,Watching the tendrils of steamRise, as if they carry my thoughtsTo some distant, better place. [Person] is now the brightest star in our sky tonight burning on, with a flame dimmed with sadness and sorrow for us still here.The stars are watching us. Over'? I have spent the night in the watchhouse My head was the size of three So I went and asked the chemistTo fix up a drink for me;And he brewed it from various bottlesWith soda and plenty of ice,With something that smelt like lemon,And something that seemed like spice. 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? Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. Edged and taken. Dance with the wavesMove with the seaLet the rhythm of the waterSet your soul free. Nature would speak to usOur world would become onewith peace and understandingand a little bit of fun. The Bowlers Prayer anon A prayer asking for help from God to ensure the bowled ball lands near the Jack.A Crown Green Bowlers Prayer P. Helliwell A verse imploring the Lord to ensure there are games of bowls in heaven.My Last End Graeme Cook A lovely, short poem inspired by memorable games upon that velvet turf.Unbiased Bowls J.J. Hasson A light-hearted poem discussing the bias of bowls and perhaps also of life. If I brightened your path, then let it bea small contribution from my loved ones and me;now sadly I leave you and travel alonethrough a mystic veil to the great unknown,with such beautiful memoriesthat will forever bethe way that I hope youll remember me. Tell her I promise to see her again someday.When that will be, I really cant say.I promise to make up for the time thats passed,To hold her and comfort her in my arms at last. FIRE!Adrenaline, excitement, the love of the challengeSirens wail, and it comes into sight,Flames and smoke rising into the night.All geared up, ready to save, ready to fight.Hose in hand heads straight for the danger.He kicked the door in knew just what to doThe fire and smoke pouring out He tucked his head down and dove in.They tried so hard to find him,But the fire was just too strong;We lost him in this round the fire had won.He gave his life doing what he loved, But he was way too young to die!Our gentle giant is now at peace;Now to save lives he will use wings!How to go on without him He touched so many lives But we know that only comes in time.Hes up there with his mamma now.Smiling down on us dimples and all!Too young to go we have to let go But we all miss and love him so! Time for us to part now, we wont say goodbye;Look for me in rainbows, shining in the sky.Every waking moment, and all your whole life throughJust look for me and love me, as you know I loved you. Remember me as I used to be.Think of me; remember my smile,The love we shared; linger awhile.I am at peace now, I am me.At rest for all eternity. Poems for those who were keen on loosing an arrow from a bow. Your fingerprints are on my heart.Fingerprints that teach me about caring.Fingerprints that teach me about love.Fingerprints that teach me about courage.Fingerprints that teach me about hope.Fingerprints that bring me closer to my loved ones.Fingerprints that bring me closer to myself.In the time I cared for you my whole life changed never to be the same againAll this from tiny fingerprints that touch my heart.You will live in my heart forever never to be forgotten.I will always love you.You are my child. And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. For they existed. Alone on my tin pony,to the heavens Ive been called,but fret not my dear loved ones,Im not lonely here at all. We are not members unfortunately. 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. 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. 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. Can you send cremation ashes in the post? Ive seen her use that apronTo wipe her dripping browAs she laboured over the big rangeThats just an antique now. Rabbits, hamsters, gerbils, and birdsDogs, and cats, and everything furredAn interest in creatures in others she stirredAnd through illness, she went on, undeterred. One more day to hold your handand to watch you live your life as you planned. The tide recedes,But leaves behindBright seashells on the sand. They are not the same. Ive found the crust of our old earthA mighty funeral urn-Where countless forms of life had birth;Then others took their turn. I hold onto memories of you And cherish them with love God took you from this world So, you could be with Him in Heaven I lost you too soon But I will never forget you. Poems for those who lived their life in rural areas, or simply shared a passion for rolling hills and sprawling fields. Avaruus Ja Thtitiede. And you will see. When I was born that man was there,Tall and strong and fair of hair.He watched my mother give me birth,As I fought my way onto this Earth. 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. Keeping the attendees engaged with a brief but heartfelt poem can be a good way to make. Remember me when I am gone away,Gone far away into the silent land;When you can no more hold me by the hand,Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.Remember me when no more day by dayYou tell me of . Poems for people from Yorkshire, or for those who loved and epitomised it during their life. 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. Poems admitting that the person we have lost wasnt perfect. Their greatest nemesis and saviour,are known simply as brakes.In order to pass,they wait for mistakes. Sometimes we do the rumba,a foxtrot or a jive,as we dance through our life,each and every day. 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 driving this thing, and this car is ME,And its all worn out, but I made it work. One, two, three, four,A designer now, fashions in my core,Five, six, seven, eight,Theres plenty of work still on my plate. 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? My father-in-law was cricket barmy. 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. Poems for those who had a passion for karate, judo, kung fu, jiu jitsu, and other forms of martial arts. Here is the funeral poem: Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, 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. cricket poems for funerals. Im all the jobs rolled into one:Host, therapist, friend.I give the people what they want;Im basically a godsend. Our fishermanWho art on riverbanksAngler be thy nameThy fishing season comesThy casting will be doneThe weather will be heavenly.Give us this day lots of bitesAnd forgive us our laughterAs we forgive you, yourLies about the one that got away.Lead us to a shoal of fishAnd deliver us a big catchFor thine is the carpThe Pike and the TroutForever and ever,Amen. But oh! Members of the Club stand post,Proud brothers in the wind;Shaded eyes the tears disguise,And loss they feel within. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. Slumber sweetly little oneUpon your dusty bed.The earth be both your blanketAnd pillow for your head. How could such blazing colour leave? There was once a master carpenter and he lived a good lifefor he loved to work, building things of wood.He was loved by his family,by his sons and his daughter,and especially by his wife.He was loved by everyone who knew him. Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of Chatham. Our world without a dazzling fight.So hear this now, my love, my lifeSince your sweet sunshine left the blueA brilliant rainbow spanned the skyAnd that is how well think of you. OUR AUDIOBOOK IS NOW AVAILABLE THROUGH AUDIBLE &. " Our Alley,who art in BowlingHallowed by thy lanesThy strikes will comeThy will be doneOn approach as it is on releaseGive us this game our weekly bowling nightAnd forgive us our splitsAs we forgive thoseWho excessively celebrate against us.Lead us not into the gutterBut deliver us from the ten pin.For ever and EverBowl Men. 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. It wasnt easy watching youOf that I wont denyAnd Im not ashamed to sayThat there were times I cried. Dont weep at my grave,For I am not there.Ive a date with a butterflyTo dance in the air.Ill be singing in the sunshine,Wild and free,Playing tag with the windWhile Im waiting for thee. Add languages. 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. Poems for those who enjoyed track and field, and the opportunities it provided them in life. A Poem for Mother. The lowest of them all is Ace,but sometimes hes on top aboveand thats the moral of this verse:dont give up the game of love. Though I see the branches swaying.And watch their dancing leavesThe echoes carried on the windDont sound the same to meAs I listen to the morning birdsSing softly from afar It seems to be a mournful tuneThat echoes in my heart. Dad was an avid cricket fan and we wanted something appropriate for him to read. They give all they have and then give more,While helping somebody get through.Its not about thanks or for mention,Its something thats in them they do. 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. Sun will warm the daylight hours;The lighthouse illume the night.Waves provide rhythm and gulls give voice Music to ease my flight. My grandfathers clock was too large for the shelf,So it stood ninety years on the floor.It was taller by half than the old man himself,Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,And was always his treasure and pride;But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died. write me in historymove over King Tutyou aint got nothingon the legitimate King! Its always opening time in heavenAnd the alcohol doesnt go to your headIt floats around in ones etherAnd fortifies your spirit instead. MORE THYME! Roy Harpers When an old Cricketer leaves the crease has been mentioned. The boys who came to watch their gods, Im giving up bridge Tonights my last nightIts amen to Staymen, I give up the fight.The insults and muddles are giving me troublesAnd I cant sleep at night for thinking of doubles. The archer and his bowWithout each other are nothing,But when they come togetherThey become quite something. All the times when your heart shined throughare the greatest memories I have of you. Where every day is a day to fish,To fill your heart with every wish.Dont worry, or feel sad for me,Im fishin with the Master of the sea. I picture you in every placeAmong the trees and waters blueAnd every time it comes to mindIm grateful I had you. The boxer stands with his gloves at the readyHis gait sure and steadyHis eyes aware and to the foreHis mind on the bout and nothing more, But deep within, and on his face writtenAre the many scars of a life hard-bittenAnd while neer shy of a hard-fought fightThere is no longer within the feeling of delight, His face has too oft been made to payBy an opponent better on the dayAnd though within beats the heart of a lionHis poor pummelled body has given up tryin, And while a fighter to his very coreJust the smell of gloves now he does abhorYet, still he stands, eyes puffed and blood galoreStill ready to wage a pugilists war. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. Whenever Im upset I know yourethere with a shoulder to cry on.Whenever I face a problem and need some helpI know you are one I can rely on. That very place where children sit,in safety and in pleasure,To bask in love and comfort,is truly a childs life treasure,Where this child can feel so grown up,and a Gran feel like a kid,Learn and laugh together from stories,of all the things she did. If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelids soundless blink,The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alightUpon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,To him this must have been a familiar sight., If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,One may say, He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.. So as we gather here today, To say our last goodbyes, We know that they will always beIn our hearts and in our minds. 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. A keen Bridge player from ChardFound losing so terribly hardImagine how she feltWhen she saw shed been dealtThree jokers and a bridge scoring card? Footballs a match made in heavenWhich is fan-tastic news for meAnd heavens a level playing fieldWhere anyone can kick off for free. The sky became your deep blue seaThe clouds became your shoreAnd there, for all eternityYou sat with friends galore. t206 walter johnson portrait; family jealous of my success Poems for those who kept several balls in the air at one time. Here are 10 stirring funeral readings, poems, and quotes for any service that can encourage family and friends: 1. 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. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? of the questions of these recurring,Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filld with the foolish,Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless? His bricks though were not just forged in fire,His family were his foundation and his desireThe mortar was his love, his caring, his skillHe loved you all dearly, and loves you all still. I see now it was love, MumThat made you come whenever Id call,Your inexhaustible love, MumAnd I thank you for it all. Without any doubt or fearmy favourite drink is surely beer,anything from pale, to brown alein fact any beer thats on sale,never halves, only pints or largerstout, bitter, smooth or golden lager,wonderful taste of malt and hopsproduced from ripe natural crops,must be drunk cold never warmdrinking good beer will do no harm,beer surely doesnt cause a beer bellydrink too much makes you very silly,you can keep your spirits and winea good pint of beer to me is just fine,beer is drunk north, south, east and westevery country thinks their beers the best. 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. I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done. And now that youre not here, GranddadIll give double hugs to Nan.Goodnight, God bless you, Granddad,From your loving little man. As Stevie Bloomer watches down. We will miss each other for awhile,But you will come and bring your smile.That wont be long you will see,Till were together you and me. Brothers and sisters came next,With that, an instant friend.Someone to look up to,Someone on whom to depend. And a digital membership where you can read all the digital magazines is normally 25, and now 12.50 with the code. Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broomsBalancing up on his nose, and the plate whirlsOn the tip of the broom!
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