Poems for those who had a passion for butterfly collecting and breeding, or just enjoyed watching them flutter by. And so I have a gift for you,My love, in the form of a roseIll hold it to my lipsAnd whisper my loving prose. The archer and his bowAlways achieve gloryThough this is the endOf their epic story. God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. The funeral bell is ringing for one, a last goodbye,And on the clock of our mortality, the hours just seem to fly,Respect to the departed is all that we can pay,And for each and every one of us, a final night and day. Not just a freeway drive, but each outing on a mission,And not a veering trundle, but a task of deep precision,Not the tedium of traffic, relief at the arriving,The thrill is in the journey, and the passion in the driving. Well always rememberthat special smile,that caring heart,that warm embrace,you always gave us.You being therefor Grandma and usthrough good and bad times,no matter what.Well always rememberyou Grampa becausetherell never be another oneto replace you in our hearts,and the love we will alwayshave for you. Poems for chefs, cooks, and those who simply enjoyed spending time in the kitchen cooking for their loved ones. 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! Written with a pen.Sealed with a kiss.If you are my friend,please answer this: Are we friendsOr are we not?You told me onceBut I forgot. Robert J. Tiess A short poem about perspective when entering the depths of the ocean.Scuba Diver Maggie Benefield A poem that describes the awe and amazement that one experiences when diving.Underwater Memory Divemaster Dennis A poem about the wonders of the sea, and the desires to always return. Well take the time togetherTo catch up on the pastTo build a new beginningOne that will always last. You can shed tears that he is goneOr you can smile because he has lived, You can close your eyes and pray that he will come backOr you can open your eyes and see all that he has left, Your heart can be empty because you cant see himOr you can be full of the love that you shared, You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterdayOr you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday, You can remember him and only that he is goneOr you can cherish his memory and let it live on. 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. Dont get your feet wet when you throw,And to this advice please hark,Take up a firm but easy stance Behind the eight-foot mark! He will hold you in his arms and the angels will sing. It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red roses there may blow; It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red roses crest the caps, I know. Wonderful gifts; each stitch made with loveA creative gift that was so easy to seeA jumper for this one, some scarves for themOr for a new baby a layette of three. I Do Not Think My Song Will End Jonny Hathcock A poem about the deceased becoming one with nature.Look For Me In Rainbows Conn Bernard A call to remember the deceased through nature and happy memories. Or when Sol dips his crestNeath the glorious westAnd the sunlight congeals into darkWe will skim by the seaWe will shoot oer the leaWe will follow the meteors mark. Floral Tribute, which has been distributed by Armitage's publisher, Faber, is a double acrostic . Sunset and evening star,And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,When I put out to sea. The silence hung suspended:It was the last bowl of the day,And everything dependedOn our skipper yet to play.He gazed upon the verdant green His eyes were focused tightOn a sphere that could just be seen:The Kitty shining white. My father-in-law was cricket barmy. You are the picture I paint in my headOf beauty that only exists in thought.You are the picture I dream of in bed.Of beauty that I have forever thought. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die. Coffee In Heaven John Agard A poem wondering whether the coffee in heaven is actually any good.Fuelled By Coffee Mark Gregory A poem for someone whose daily life revolved around coffee.The Warmth Of Your Love Mark Gregory A poem for a warm-hearted soul who loved sharing a coffee. The laughter and loveIt always shone through. I cant be there to hold your handI cant be there to hug youI cant be there to dry a tearBut there is one thing I can do. Knit one, purl one, knit two togetherHer woollen creations will last forever.The sound of her needles, clickety clack,Another row on the counter, turn and go back. There were a couple of muckers who mixed up the cement,they were forever subbing so they never paid their rent. As I Look Up To The Skies Above anon A sorrowful poem about how the world is a shade darker after losing someone.Requiem Robert Louis Stevenson A beautiful poem about acceptance, and being laid to rest under the night sky.The Sombre Astronomer Michael Humphries A short poem of longing to be with our lost loved ones again.There Is A New Star Shining In The Sky Tonight Sarah Hartwell Some prose reflecting upon the stars in the night sky. 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. Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broomsBalancing up on his nose, and the plate whirlsOn the tip of the broom! "An honest man here lies at rest, The friend of man, the friend of truth, Though I may forget you,its important that you seejust how much it means to methat you remember me. I dont know where wed be today,If it werent for the two of you.To show us strength, support, and love,Like only the two of you can do. When the birds start to singAfter my owls hoot;Dont let it slip thatManners dont cost a thing. That is all.She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.Her diminished size is in me, not in her.And just at the moment when someone at my side says, There, she is gone! there are other eyes watching her coming, and there are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, Here she comes!And that is dying. We wouldnt eat from a microwaveOr a restaurant down the streetWe all ate Mums home cookingAnd boy that cant be beat. I Juggle As I Go Mark Gregory A poem that mimics the rhythmic repetition of juggling, and, indeed, of life.The Juggler Richard Wilbur A poem that uses a juggler as ametaphorfor the kind of change one needs in life. So, if youre searching for a poem for a grandmother, scroll down to G or hit Ctrl+F to find grandmother on this page; this can be done for someone who loved cricket, someone who suffered from Alzheimers, someone who brought laughter into everyones lives, or any other topic you can think of. 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. Rest there on the mossWhere the soft zephyrs tossThough circlet of beauty and prideWith thy invisible wingsAttached to thy stringsAre folded in peace at thy side. I love all types of fossils, old bones and stones,A glimpse into the past thats otherwise unknown,I search the wide earth, and dig deep down withinTo uncover all the secrets of our ancient kin. When you spiralled down and moreI longed for a reverse,Id have given my right armFor your pain to disperse. Are you more alive?Cause here on earth it feels likeEverything good is missing since you leftAnd here on earth everythings differentTheres an emptiness. Gods Garden D. W. McConway A slightly religious poem about God calling a tired person home.God Saw Him Getting Tired / God Saw Her Getting Tired Frances and Kathleen Coelho A poem similar to the above.I Am At Peace Jennifer Alderton A short poem urging mourners to remember a terminally ill person at their best. Poems for those who enjoyed track and field, and the opportunities it provided them in life. I pray the wickets well-prepared,And that it doesnt stick,That all my shots find gaps And that the outfields fairly quick. So when you talk of family lifeOr how it used to beThough many had more moneyNone were as rich as me. The warriors spirit is like a flameThat burns so bright, lighting the wayAnd its fire will always remainIn the hearts of those who train each day. 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 I could fly like a birdtime would slow me downgiving me time to enjoy thepeace that surrounds all around.If I could fly likea bird swift as a lightI know for a factI would love this graceful flight. Addiction Took Another Soul Natasha Henry A sombre poem reflecting on the harm that addiction can cause.Its Me Jacqueline A. Grieve A poem read on behalf of deceased addict, which asks their loved ones for forgiveness.My Son Marie Antoinette A poem written for a mother as a message to her son, who lost the fight against addiction.Pray, Dont Find Fault Rama Muthukrishnan A poem urging people not to judge those who go through hard times. 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. No tears to be shed,Only in cheer;Continueonthe path already ledEachonyour own veer. Poems for those who loved nothing better than riding on two wheels. Unique if rudyard kipling related items, Etsy. 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. It's quite funny too. Listen to the storiesthe old trees tell in hushing voices,the rushing sounds of ocean waves . Poems for those who enjoyed the art of bell ringing, or who simply enjoyed the sound of church bells. May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. Poems for those who enjoyed a day at the races, or a flutter at the bookies. My memories are what I have left,and a lesson I will not forget. Im that little breeze in the summerAnd Im that unexpected white featherI plucked it from my downy wingsSo you remember; we are always together. Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,Seeking the bubble reputationEven in the cannons mouth. So set, before its echoes fade,The fleet foot on the sill of shade,And hold to the low lintel upThe still-defended challenge-cup. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. Poems about those who suffered from and in some cases, succumbed to addiction. So from this moment, lets endeavourTo celebrate these worlds so clever;Well think of them, whenever, wherever:A legacy, to go on forever. Obtainingperfection is my keyIts what I strive for, its all that defines mePushing harder and harder to reach my goalIts what I live for, ballet is my soul. Always with that memory of failure.Always with the possibility of more. You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). But then, your spirit came to restWhere angels chose to roamAnd once equipped with ten-pound testYou made yourself at home. 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. You didnt die just recently,You died some time ago.Although your body stayed a while,And didnt really know. 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. F amily man, first and foremost. For you may findWhen you clear the hilly topThat the brakes of life may seizeAnd take you to a messy stop. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast, And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host As the run-stealers flicker to and fro, To and fro: O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago! But all the feelings that are nowSo vivid and so realCant hold their fresh intensityAs time begins to heal. 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. Only to change. Last scene of all,That ends this strange eventful history,Is second childishness and mere oblivion;Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. The Beer Prayer - anon - A beer-infused version of the Lord's Prayer. One, two,Ill miss you,Three, four,Thats for sure. I imagine you watchingThe many things I doProudly standing beside meAs I remember and honour you. A wife, a mother, a grandmother too,This is the legacy we have from you.You taught us love and how to fight,You gave us strength, you gave us might.A stronger person would be hard to find,And in your heart, you were always kind.You fought for us all in one way or another,Not just as a wife not just as a mother.For all of us you gave your best,Now the time has come for you to rest.So go in peace, youve earned your sleep,Your love in our hearts, well eternally keep. O Magic wheel of burnished steelHow part of myself thou art.As we roll alongMid the hurrying throngThat peoples the busy mart. A Poem for Mother. A piece of satire describing the performance of Team India in the T20 world cup 2022. But I was patient and not het upEyes looking down, ears pricked like a pupId calmly wait to hear the callThe call that says this is the ball. They dipThey soarThey dart right byWe wonder how it feels to fly. by | Jul 10, 2021 | opentimeclock 2004 login | list of navy reserve units | Jul 10, 2021 | opentimeclock 2004 login | list of navy reserve units A free bird leapson the back of the windand floats downstreamtill the current endsand dips his wingin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky. Ive got the bowling ball blues.I just cannot get a strike.I bought these white leather shoes.I paid a mighty fine price.Come on now, roll like thunder,Drop those pins asunder:Cure my bowling ball blues. Analysis,Subject Summarisation And Explanation : 'On Tingling Catch: An interview with cricket poet Nick Whittock, Tingling Catch: Bill OReillys 1946 NZ cricket. It also comes in handy When Im working on a rhyme. Toggle navigation Poem Searcher Discovery Engine 7,226 categories 345276 poems 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. Deeper down I goso unknown steps belowexploring further than anyones beenthere seems to be no end. We are not members unfortunately. give me the flavourof butterscotch and vanillawith a little chocolateplease and thank you. Poems for those who had a passion for stars, constellations, and the great beyond. Non-religious funeral readings are a beautiful way to connect to grieving loved ones, giving you the ability to make a non-religious funeral personal and unique. A ball will bounce; but less and less. A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip There is a glorious fellowship!Father and son and the open skyAnd the white clouds lazily drifting by,And the laughing stream as it runs alongWith the clicking reel like a martial song,And the father teaching the youngster gayHow to land a fish in the sportsmans way. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. Ill give the angelsBack their wingsAnd risk the lossOf everything. The first verse of Sir Henry Newbolt's 'Play the Game'? 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. I imagine you laughingYour heart lovingly set freeYou understand my griefIn ways I cannot see. Poems for those who had a love for the beach, seashore, sand, and tides. 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. When a job was finished his tools had to be clean, because he was the boss of a slap-happy working team. I have always been a readera devourer of printI have loved the musty smell of librariesthe heft of a book in my handthe sound of pages turningthe sight of words under a flashlightin the dark. Oh! And now that man has left this life,No longer parted from his wifeMemories are all that we have leftOf that man who was the best. So let us ride to help make others aware.That the roads that we ride are for all to share. extract from The Tempest by William Shakespeare. In the end,only one gets to brag.The first to kiss,the checkered flag. If you want fame for yourself, go play an individual game. Im old and Im bitter, with nothing to fearSo I hope I offend you by bending your ear.Its my one joy in life you can like it or not No answer in edgeways? Old Father Time, I pray to youThat clouds give it a rest,And that I get a game today,And that I play my best. 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. Bike like a rocket each sprocket fits its socket with well oiled smoothness of clockwork. Thtitiede. We dreamed of you and of your lifeAnd all that it would be.We waited and longed for you to come.And join our family. Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend and the bike leans with me. Its all about expectingAnd then throwing inIts all about the winningBut not whining not giving-inThe square, the short and long ballThe pals, solid as a rockThe unexpected tackleSudden shock, You felt the roarAnd saw the lucky chipThe crossbar stopped the goalThat you were willing in, And in the endAt injury timeWhen you went deep and deeperYou didnt find the goalOr spot the sweeper. And when hed finished speakinHe turned back toward the windowCrushed out his cigaretteFaded off to sleepAnd somewhere in the darknessThe gambler he broke evenBut in his final wordsI found an ace that I could keep. Below are the all-time best Rugby poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. adapted from the poem by Sherry L. Williams. From stretcher to oar with drive and draw,He speeds the boat along.All whalebone and steel and a willowy feel,That is the oarsmans song. I pour the steaming liquid,Watching the tendrils of steamRise, as if they carry my thoughtsTo some distant, better place. If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, dont deal in lies,Or being hated, dont give way to hating,And yet dont look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dreamand not make dreams your master;If you can thinkand not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth youve spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: Hold on!. The funeral bell is ringing, a reminder of our mortality,Farewelling a deceased soul, one day twill ring for me.Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day,Across the rural city, in the morning damp and grey. Never to kill. On The Grasshopper And Cricket, by John Keats, theartofchildrenspicturebooks.blogspot.com. They once built an house with an extension on the side;It was that badly built that no one could reside.He had a young apprentice who soon became his hoddie,he never let him lay the bricks because his work was always shoddy. The worlds a little quieter nowThe colours have lost their hueThe birds are singing softlyAnd our hearts are missing you. 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. Haiku for a Father. and fought to the last breath. He may be reserved in his manner and speech,And hide the fine graces of which pedants preach;But he is kind and sincere when his heart you once reach,For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. 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 . 5. 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. 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. T he one person I could always take my troubles to. I will watch over you from heaven aboveForever you will be a dear and true loveHold on to your dreams and all of your wishesSending you hugs and butterfly kisses. So I kayak, and I am at peaceThis is my world; this is my wealthAnd I know this joy will never ceaseIn my kayak, I am truly myself. I watch the magic happeningAs yarn becomes a shawl.The knitting needles of my auntAre at her beck and call. Poems for those who enjoyed filling in those tantalising blanks across and down. This fourth rose is for our love.We enjoy beauty and its presence,Continuing to guide and lead us.Regardless of the seasons of our lives,Our love for you will continue. From the depths of my heart, come the words of a brother,where our souls and our minds, are like that of no other.The spirit of competition, will always be there,in the look of our eyes, and the glance of our stare.Protecting each other, is always a must,good times or bad times, never losing that trust.Like a vision of Indians, riding across desert sand,or the heart of a Raider, when he conquers new land.We never lacked courage, or showed too much pride,with no thoughts of guilt, or feelings put to the side.Its important to strive forward, and not live through regret,but to savor the memories, and to never forget.To be such close companions, always made me so proud,never scared to express feelings, our emotions speak loud.Whether its heaven or on earth, our souls are always together,we share that sacred bond, knowing that brothers last forever. He knew that you were suffering,He knew you were in pain;He knew that you would neverGet well on earth again. And if Im asked to bowl I prayThe ball leaves my hand true,So whether or not wickets comeIll know that theyre my due. cricket poems for funerals. Grandmas Quilts Mark Gregory A poem perfect for a grandmother whose knitted creations were the stuff of legend.A Grandmothers Mystery Graeme Cook A poem exploring what exactly is so special about grandmothers.Legacy Of Love anon A poem highlighting the long-lasting effects of a grandmothers unconditional love.Sleep Now, Nana Alexandra Burrows A peaceful, slightly religious poem inviting grandma to rest eternally.We Had A Wonderful Grandmother anon A poem for a loving and caring grandmother. Dad Karen K. Boyer A poem reflecting upon how a father made his children throughout his life.Dear Old Dad Patience Strong A poem lamenting all the things we miss about our father.A Happy Man Edwin Arlington Robinson A verse about a father who feels as though his role in life has been fulfilled.Life Lessons Joanna Fuchs A verse admiring all the lessons a father taught his children.Memories Of Dad anon A poem reflecting on the positive influence a father had on his children.Not A Day Goes By, Dad anon Another poem about a fathers positive influence, and how it will never be forgotten.Our Father Kept A Garden anon Another lovely poem about everything our father taught us in his life.Thanks, Dad anon A verse thanking a father for everything his did during his life.That Man Cliff Sargeant A verse about all the wonderful things that man did for us during his life.Walk A Little Slower, Daddy Helen Bush A verse about following in a wonderful fathers giant footsteps.What Is A Dad? Come gather here,Be at your ease,To say this last goodbye.Not to this shell before you,But to a life passed by. 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. And in the game of life and love,there are the Kings and Queens.They rule loves game in their own way,at least thats how it seems. 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. My hands are clenched around chrome barsthe engines rumble sounds so sweet.I twist the throttle with my palmand roar off down the street. Publication date 1905 Publisher London : Simpkin Collection cdl; americana Digitizing sponsor MSN Contributor University of California Libraries Language English. And though you are gone, though youre not here with methe cord is still there but no one can seeIt pulls at my heart, I am bruisedI am sorebut this cord is my lifeline as never before. Character matters;Be your own person,Your own original self,Not someone elses version. Poems for those who lived their life in rural areas, or simply shared a passion for rolling hills and sprawling fields. My trumpet is silentAs it is with my life tooNo more shall I play for youThere is nothing left to do. Poems about grandfathers, grandpas, and gramps. Bingo! Lord I am pleased to see my Wednesday night friends;We gather in your playroom for a friendly game.Give me the strength to endure the smokers;Let the caller call at a pace that is just right.Dont rush those with manyOr let those with few fall asleep waiting,And may the caller call what I need;If not, may someone in the little group around meLeave tonight with more than they began with. And Rest Rev. What secrets are revealedWhilst mirrored in that chairAll caped or gowned and waitingFor the trusted hairdresser to share, As scissors work at a frenzyFeverishly between cuts and snipsShe listens intently with friendly earEmpathy at her finger tips.
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