Near a shady wall a rose once grew,Budded and blossomed in Gods free light,Watered and fed by the morning dew,Shedding its sweetness day and night.As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,Slowly rising to loftier height,It came to a crevice in the wallThrough which there shone a beam of light.Onward it crept with added strengthWith never a thought of fear or pride,It followed the light through the crevices lengthAnd unfolded itself on the other side.The light, the dew, the broadening viewWere found the same as they were before,And it lost itself in beauties new,Breathing its fragrance more and more.Shall claim of death cause us to grieveAnd make our courage faint and fall?Nay! The LORD is my caddie; I shall not whiff.He maketh me to drive straight down green fairways:He leadeth me over the still waters.He restoreth my swing:He leadeth me in the paths of truthfulness for the games sake.Yea, though I pitch through the valley of the shadow of the woods,I will fear no bunkers: for thou art with me;Thy wedge and thy putter they comfort me.Thou preparest a line before me in the presence of mind hazards:Thou anointest my stroke with confidence;the cup will not be runneth over.Surely birdies and eagles shall follow me all the rounds of my life:and I will dwell in the clubhouse of the LORD for ever. 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. When you spiralled down and moreI longed for a reverse,Id have given my right armFor your pain to disperse. by | Jun 10, 2022 | noco youth hockey | pinal county obituaries | Jun 10, 2022 | noco youth hockey | pinal county obituaries Forget what is happening all around,And keep both feet upon the ground; Dont let anything hurry you,And let each dart fly straight and true! The place where we share our secrets,and it always just makes sense,Where my soul can be wide open,true and free without defence,Split by a generation,simply makes us both so nearer,To words so true from both,whether youre the speaker or the hearer. The slapping of my leathersand raging winds on either side,drum a beat of sweet contentmentas I ride this, my last ride. The transfer window never closesAs new players arrive all the timeTheres always a top team to play onAs for the kit, I just wish Id brought mine. The 43 Most Touching Funeral Poems for Moms Few things are as fleetingAs footprints in the sand;Sometimes we walk aloneAnd sometimes hand in hand. Footballs a match made in heavenWhich is fan-tastic news for meAnd heavens a level playing fieldWhere anyone can kick off for free. A Redevelopment Update, NBD: Last Tarvo 2, Specialized Tero X, Crankbros Mallet Trail, This topic has 9 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated. I Love Rugby. I have not lost the magic of long days,I live them, dream them stillStill I am a master of the starry ways,And freeman of the hills;Shattered my glass, ere half the sands had run.I hold the heights, I hold the heights, I won. 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. And if Im asked to bowl I prayThe ball leaves my hand true,So whether or not wickets comeIll know that theyre my due. Throttle on, and forward blast, The next corner, looming fast, Leaning in hard, and tyres gripping, Miles behind me, quickly slipping, White posts like a picket fence, Concentration, full, intense. Its anyone youve ever lovedwho mourns you in the end. cricket poems for funerals I watch the magic happeningAs yarn becomes a shawl.The knitting needles of my auntAre at her beck and call. Funeral Poems: 45 Beautiful Readings for Memorial Services - Sympathy Her pitiless blue sky,When, sick at heart, around us we see the cattle die But then the grey clouds gather, and we can bless againThe drumming of an army, the steady soaking rain. 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. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your backOr you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on. Best Rugby Poems. A ball will bounce; but less and less. Nothing can erase the painfulImprints on your mindBut there are softer memoriesThat time will let you find. To the living, I am gone, To the sorrowful, I will never return, To the angry, I was cheated, But to the happy, I am at peace, And to the faithful, I have never left. I cannot say. You watched us make the same mistakes, That you had made before, But that just made you hold us tight, And love us all the more. He tends the flowers with loving care,And prunes the branches here and there;He weeds the beds and mends the fences,And gathers up the fallen senses. The beauty and peace it brings my wayIs difficult to describeFor we who bike for pleasureBelong to a different tribe. Just talk amongst yourself my friends,And share a toast or two.For I am sure you will remember wellHow I loved to drink with you. This is the life of a dancer en pointeRisking the health of her feet, legs and jointsJust for that one perfect moment on stageWhere the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed. And so we meet in remembrance,Of a mind so fit and true.Were here to pay our last respectsTo say that, We love you. If we treat each other with respectAnd more often wear a smile,Remembering this special dashMight only last a little while. The water was hot and steaming,The tea was fresh and new.I took a sip, and closed my eyes,And all my worries flew. These protect the batsman s legs from the solid ball, which can travel at over sixty miles an hour and bloody hurts when it hits an unprotected shin. "An honest man here lies at rest, The friend of man, the friend of truth, MORE THYME! Hell, no!, Apparently this a a Facebook Page called Why I love cricket, Starboard 10, Round again, pull in the buoys. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. She wore from ears, from nose, from lips, The ones that are on show, And she wore a heap in other places, But there I will not go. Poems for those who suffered from dementia during their life. A year feeling so lonely and blueSince the unspeakable day I lost youIm here because friends said I must tryLetting go and waving the tears goodbye. With each brand new discovery, Im always quite astounded,The history of life on Earth is gloriously unboundedFrom dinosaurs to shells and plants, theres always something more,Fossils are simply priceless treasures I cant help but adore. Not a day goes by, dadThat you dont cross our minds.Not all of you departedWhen you left our earth behind. 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. Fly, fly do not fearDont waste a breath, dont shed a tearYour heart is pure, your soul is freeBe on your way, dont wait for meAbove the universe youll climbOn beyond the hands of timeThe moon will rise, the sun will setBut I wont forget. The song captures the atmosphere of a village cricket match and is an elegy to the game as played during Harper's youth. I hope I touched your lives one day,and left a treasured mark,now Ill ride on to forever,with your memory in my heart. 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. who will be next?want to face me?come on dont be shy! 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. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Our Memories Build A Special Bridge Emily Matthews A verse highlighting the importance of memories. Bury Me In LycraWith a bike-shaped brooch above my heartTake me not by motor-hearseBut pulled by trike, upon a cart. I deal with screamingchildren,who dont want a cut.And the people who keep rolling in,after the doors should shut. Made from the earth by loving handsThrough heat and rain prepared,To face the joys and storms of lifeAnd treasured moments shared. Floral Tribute, which has been distributed by Armitage's publisher, Faber, is a double acrostic . 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. Good Afternoon, My father has recently passed and I would like to scatter his ashes at Lords.He was a lover of attending Lords and had many happy days there. All through the swing he hears the boat singAs she glides on her flying track,And he gathers aft to strike the craftWith a ringing bell note crack. So let us ride to help make others aware.That the roads that we ride are for all to share. I see through different eyes.I see a bigger picture when others see grey skies.Though many cant conceive it, I stand facing the wind.My bravery, not from fighting, but from my strength within. Pierce a bulls eye if you darethrow a fine dart through the aircenter it upon the dotgive it everything you got. Every dayWe puzzlers cheer For since 1913, Once a day they appear. He will hold you in his arms and the angels will sing. What if I live no more those kingly days?Their night sleeps with me still.I dream my feet upon the starry ways;My heart rests in the hill.I may not grudge, the little left undone.I hold the heights, I keep the dreams I won. Stand upon the mountainRaise your wings up highCast aside the chains of fearTrust and you will fly. But now my life is over; its time to say farewell,But dont forget my fossils and the stories they do tell,The stories of our history, a glimpse into the pastThey serve as a reminder of what time has amassed. I am the wind in your hair, the sand in your toesButterfly kisses that you feel on your noseI am with you at sunrise and in the sunsetBut you cannot see me, its my one regret. When someone dies, the clothes are so sad. Funeral Poems - Mark Your Occasion Oh me! 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. Be and bebetter. 5. He knew that you were suffering,He knew you were in pain;He knew that you would neverGet well on earth again. 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. But here is your race medalFrom me with all my heartYoull wear my gold at every stepAnd we will never be apart. Every gambler knowsThat the secret to survivinIs knowin what to throw awayAnd knowin what to keepCause every hands a winnerAnd every hands a loserAnd the best that you can hope forIs to die in your sleep.. Poems and Readings For Funerals - guardianangel.network 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. He is a lover of the earth,And all the wonders it gives birth;He is a lover of the bloom,And all the fragrant, sweet perfume. cricket poems for funerals So when you talk of family lifeOr how it used to beThough many had more moneyNone were as rich as me. Some love it for mingling with their upstanding crowdThe drinking, the laughter, the gossip so loudThey arrive at the track wearing yesterdays shoppingFor racing you say, more a spot of Box hopping. Fly, fly little wingFly beyond imaginingThe softest cloud, the whitest doveUpon the wind of heavens lovePast the planets and the starsLeave this lonely world of oursEscape the sorrow and the painAnd fly again. We light this candle that your light may always shineWith the love that you gave to us all. Hello there, Granddad.Its me, your little man,I couldnt find you yesterday,When I came to visit Nan. And the strong odour of fish in North Shields, stink of cattle feed outside Goole, sickly smell of plastics factory, oil newly-refined, makes you see even if youre blind. Best Cricket Poems - PoetrySoup Poems for those who loved games like bridge, canasta, poker, and various other card-based activities. When a butterfly come to you, Ive been told,That its from someone in heaven, a past soul.If you keep a look out, if you open your heart,The things that were ordinary will now stand apart.I think if we look, read between the lines,You will find clues and you will find signs,That your loved one isnt past, not really, not gone,That they are not here, that they have just moved on.It is said that there is not death, just life and transitions,From the teachings of Buddha to the beliefs of the Christians.So from my heart, from my hope and belief,May you find many butterflies to assist with your grief. Tiny Angel shook his head,These things I do not knowBut I do know that you love me,And that I love you so., This was a life that had hardly begunNo time to find your place in the SunNo time to do all you could have doneBut we loved you enough for a lifetimeNo time to enjoy the world and its wealthNo time to take life down off the shelfNo time to sing the songs of yourselfThough you had enough love for a lifetime. Capitulation anon A poem about the highs and lows of bridge, and always being on the verge of quitting.The Gambler Kenny Rogers The lyrics to Rogers infamous song about the train ride with the gambler.A Keen Bridge Player Simon Lucas A humorous limerick about forgetting to remove the jokers! Another day has come again,As time moved surely on But nothing now seems quite the same,To know that he is gone.The days and weeks and months aheadWill never be the same Because a treasure beyond wordsCan never be replaced. 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. When I am gone, release me, let me go.I have so many things to see and do,You mustnt tie yourself to me with too many tears,But be thankful we had so many good years.I gave you my love, and you can only guessHow much youve given me in happiness.I thank you for the love that you have shown,But now it is time I travelled on alone.So grieve for me a while, if grieve you mustThen let your grief be comforted by trustThat it is only for a while that we must part,So treasure the memories within your heart.I wont be far away for life goes on.And if you need me, call and I will come.Though you cant see or touch me, I will be nearAnd if you listen with your heart, youll hearAll my love around you soft and clearAnd then, when you come this way alone,Ill greet you with a smile and a Welcome Home. Our family chain is brokenAnd nothing seems the sameBut as God calls us one by oneThe chain will link again. I loved going to bingoAnd seeing all my chumsId listen out for numbersHoping they would be the ones. And even though the price of time and consequences of agedenied his body its greatest love of life as wageit never quenched his firefighters soul of its wondrous and noble ragenor that intense need burning so deep in his heartto save each life and shelter from being another victory for a fires page. Never walk behind the bowler's arm - Yorkshire Bylines Her apron could bring gigglesIn a game of peek-a-booWith her newest, sweet grandbabyAs she hid her face from view. And Lord I pray that tonight or sometime real soon,I get to raise my voice in praise Praise that you deserve When I get to shout out BINGO! The bird that was trapped has flownThe sky that was grey is blueThe bone that was dead has grownThe dream that was dreamed is true, The door that was locked has swung wideThe prisoner has been set freeThe lips that were sealed have criedThe eye that was blind can see, The tree that was bare is greenThe room that was dull is brightThe sheet that was soiled is cleanThe dawn that was dark is light, The road that was blocked has no endThe unknown journey is knownThe heart that is hurt will mendThe bird that was trapped has flown. Poems for those who enjoyed a day at the races, or a flutter at the bookies. Poems for those who shared a passion for literature, or who worked in a literary setting during their life. Poems for those who loved exploring caves and caverns underground. 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? Stalactites hang from abovetheir beauty alone is enoughwalls covered in draperiesmillions of years of Earths memories. The earth provides the musicTo set your spirit freeYou only need to trust yourselfFly! The earth was made so sweet,The sky so fair,For man to cultivateAnd love and wear.But we, alas! Here is the funeral poem: Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, When a job was finished his tools had to be clean, because he was the boss of a slap-happy working team. "And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count.
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