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T he one person I could always take my troubles to. That you are herethat life exists and identity,That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. For untying the strings that held them,when they grew up and left home.I give you this one for courage.Then the Lord added a garnet stone. So as we gather here today, To say our last goodbyes, We know that they will always beIn our hearts and in our minds. If thou wouldst win, and not thy fortune rue,Subdue thyself yet to thyself be true. As you played and sharedAnd helped and taughtThe laughter and love always shone through. 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. Dear Lovely Death - Langston Hughes. I pour the steaming liquid,Watching the tendrils of steamRise, as if they carry my thoughtsTo some distant, better place. The board is your target, not the mat,So, be careful what youre aiming at! Analysis,Subject Summarisation And Explanation : 'On Tingling Catch: An interview with cricket poet Nick Whittock, Tingling Catch: Bill OReillys 1946 NZ cricket. city of san diego street classification map; blackrock russell 2000 index fund g1; 3610 atlantic ave, long beach, ca 90807; eternal water heater lawsuit; A series of fortunate events July 20, 2020. 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. On a warm summers eveningOn a train bound for nowhereI met up with the gamblerWe were both too tired to sleepSo we took turns a-starinOut the window at the darknessThe boredom overtook usAnd he began to speak. As I grew older so did he,But that man was always there for meHis love, unspoken, but strong and clear,Of that, I have no doubt or fear. With great expectation you quietly sitGaining confidence, you smirk a bit.Here it comes, you see the ball,As you anxiously wait to hear the call. Rev. Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. I pray the wickets well-prepared,And that it doesnt stick,That all my shots find gaps And that the outfields fairly quick. Your labor is done, your home now is heaven; no more must you wait,Your legacy lives on, your love of the land, and we will close the gate. Poems perfect for amateur and professional sailors, or simply someone who loved all things boat. Fossils ,storms,eroded coast.The shadow that I miss the most.A lonely voice, lost to the waves.Singing in a hidden cave.A silent humupon the shore,a voice thats never heard,no more.Maybe on some other plain,somewhere lost inside my brain.Words transcending from the grave,somewhere lost inside my brain. There is a momentIn musical rehearsalWhen all the playersThe choirThe woodwind and brassThe strings and percussionThe entire orchestraStopsAnd there is peace, The conductor says two wordsAnd restVoices cease to singThe woodwind put down oboes and clarinetsThe brass lay down trumpets and trombonesOthers do the sameBecause the music is overThere is no audienceThere is no applauseIn that momentQuietness reignsYet the quiet that followsRemains harmonious, There is a certain silenceA spaceFor reflection and reposeThe music is rememberedAnd so we contemplateThe highsThe lowsThe passage of melodySometimes we feel sadBecause the chordsHave drifted awayFinishedCompleted, Some will feel lossOthers experience reliefAnd others deep sadness, TogetherWe shareThat moment of closureWhen the conductorSaysAnd rest., The musical notes stood in linesDiscordant in their griefBefore regaining their composureAs black tears in embossed relief. The earth provides the musicTo set your spirit freeYou only need to trust yourselfFly! Im climbing a mountainI stop just to gaze at the view,So clear the horizonLike my every dream has come true. I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.To the gulls way and the whales way where the winds like whetted knife:And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long tricks over. IM driving this thing, and this car is ME,And its all worn out, but I made it work. But you can find many more. And yet, I watch the magic that they bringWith ease and supple strength and smiling face.They leap and spin and fly and then they swing,Theres nothing that they do thats commonplace. - Navjot Sidhu 8 0 Add a comment But as the end of his life grew near,He lay on his bed with no fear:For he knew in his heartFlags will never departFrom this world they will fly loud and clear. I do not ask you for your tears,For I am free, my suffering past.Remember all the times we laughed,And when you find that happy place,Let a smile light up your face. or hanging inside the dark closet. The Lego builder, with skill and care,Constructed worlds, beyond compare,With towers tall, and cities fair:A legacy, to last and share. But now as no seat is vacantYou will have to muddle throughMake sure you fulfil your ambitionsAs you know Ill be watching you. A. Alene Centanni. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stay,And early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. The slapping of my leathersand raging winds on either side,drum a beat of sweet contentmentas I ride this, my last ride. Goodbye, to you, with whom Ive shared,This wondrous gift of life.Enjoy the dance, lifes sweet refrain,For love is timeless as the stars,And I will dance with you again. "At Lords" by Francis Thompson is pretty well-known (above wiki > cricket poetry > poems). After reading it, I sat downin the garden and looked aroundat the green grass and the spikyflowers and the white cloudsriding high, and I thought,Its all a miracle. I know how much it hurt your soulWhen we had to say goodbyeBut Im not gone, Im always hereI am your butterfly. all is alive,all dances on through time and space,so find the highest tastein all thingson your journeyinto love. This third rose represents your memory.For the times we laughed,The times we cried,The times we were angry with each other,The silly things you did,The caring and joy you gave us. So dance beyond those golden gates,And join your loving mum.Ill see you when Im sleeping,And pray for you to come. You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. So jealously I stare at the starsBut you are all I see;For they are where your heart residesAnd where I long to be. But now my shift is overIve done my very bestLast orders; its time for closureAnd time for me to rest. Minimalist Funeral Poem Ready to Print Those We Love, Celebration of Life Table Sign, Forever In Our Hearts, Funeral Poem Digital Download PeachPaperieCo (271) $5.99 The day god took you home, memory poem, shadow box frame, memorial gift keepsake, home decor, funeral poem MadewithlovebygemGB (521) $41.31 Requiem by Robert Louis Stevenson This is a beautiful poem for dad's funeral. 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. Well take the time togetherTo catch up on the pastTo build a new beginningOne that will always last. One more day to sing our song, Close To You,and listen to you sing it to your son too. My partners a dope and Im losing all hope.And when s/he says double I know were in trouble.My points are not high and Im wondering whyS/he kept on bidding right up to the sky. For though from out our bourn of Time and PlaceThe flood may bear me far,I hope to see my Pilot face to faceWhen I have crossed the bar. When the bell rings for last ordersPlease dont panic or get vexedIts simply time to sup this worlds last drinkBefore ordering your first in the next. Over'? It's been mixed up week here at STW Towers, mostly thanks to everyone suddenly realising they haven't used up their annual leave so they'd better take some time off. John Betjeman began his poem about Cheltenham with the following memory: I composed these lines as a summer wind Was blowing the elm leaves dry And we had seventy six for seven And they had CB Fry. In our hearts there is a placeThat only you can hold;Filled with loving memoriesMore precious than gold. I will go forward with my head up high.It might be hard, I cannot lie. The time is nowTo find your passion.Time waits for no one,So get into action. When you hold this blanket in your armsAnd close your eyes real tightYou can feel the love I tucked insideWhen I made this late one night. 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. 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. The warm crowd faintly clapped, 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. 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. Ring out a slowly dying cause,And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life,With sweeter manners, purer laws. Every driver,maximum speed desires.Each sharp turn,burns their tires. What is it about a Grandmother,that is such a special bond,Seeing not the years between us,but so very much beyond,For being so much older,just doesnt seem to be a case,The ages seem to melt to nought,within our own special place. 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. Thanks to Roger. Our lager, which art in barrels,Hallowed be Thy drink,Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),At home as I am in the tavern.Give us this day our foamy head,And forgive us our spillages,As we forgive those who spill against us,And lead us not to incarceration,But deliver us from hangovers,For thine is the beer, the bitter and the lager,Forever and ever,Barmen. He saw the road was getting roughAnd the hills were hard to climb,So he closed your weary eyelidsAnd whispered, Peace be thine.. 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. 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. 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. So fly high, dear flag, as we lay them to rest,Their love for you was truly the best.A life well-lived, with memories to hold,They cherished the flag; we let it unfold. I know of tall pines,And long, waiting lines.Of the warmth of campfires,And the agony of flat tires. I am a martial artist. The Fallen Limb anon A poem acting as a message from a recently deceased member of the family.A Family anon A poem focusing on the importance of family and the role it plays in our lives.The Family Chain anon A poem lamenting the breaking of the family chain following a family members death.No Bounds Mark Gregory A poem highlighting the boundless love that someone had for their family.A Tribute To Family Michele A. Moran A religious poem perfect for a couple whove produced many descendants. O Life! He moved with such a sense of easeThat you could almost see the lightThat shone within him, the joy he feltIn his own lightness and the flightThat lifted him above the ground. You always believed that the good Lord would provide and He always had somehow,Take off your gloves and put them down, no more sweat and worry for you now. The stark white ring-barked forests, all tragic to the moon,The sapphire-misted mountains, the hot gold hush of noon,Green tangle of the brushes where lithe lianas coil,And orchids deck the tree-tops, and ferns the warm dark soil. Ring out the grief that saps the mindFor those that here we see no more;Ring out the feud of rich and poor,Ring in redress to all mankind. A piece of satire describing the performance of Team India in the T20 world cup 2022. 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. 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. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. Poems for those who forged a career as a hair stylist, and had a passion for hair design. Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of Chatham. I stop breathing in my sleep due to sleep apnea so the nighttime (pre-fall) crickets are comforting, My friend Roger Illsley wrote some music for this and recorded it--for the langstonify channel on Youtube. We put out every kind of seedTo watch small birds come flitter-feed.Blue JaysRobinsChickadeesFlutter in from nearby trees. *Replace Pemaquid Point with any relevant geographical location. With tearful eyes we watched her sufferAnd saw her slowly fade awayAlthough we loved her dearlyWe could not make her stay. They who danceFind infinite golden floorsBeneath their feet. Another Biker Who Has Gone Down Connie Starren A poem lamenting the loss of another avid biker.The Big Plan Gunnar Hassenplug A humorous poem about a bikers plan to get into heaven without an invite!A Biker Funeral anon A vivid description of a biker funeral with plenty of suitable metaphors.His Journey Goes On Joe Eliston A sombre but hopeful poem highlighting the importance of the journey of life.I Ride Alone Graeme Cook A fierce poem for a fallen motorcycling companion.My Last Ride anon A slightly religious poem about a bikers last ride to heaven.We Ride As One anon A poem lamenting the loss of riders past and present. When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,He was a man who used to notice such things? The speedometer is just a bluras tears blow from my eyes,the bike and I roll forwardoff into the calling skies. If we treat each other with respectAnd more often wear a smile,Remembering this special dashMight only last a little while. The warmth of your lovewas like the steam risingfrom a freshly brewed cupof coffeeinvigorating,comforting,and with every sipI felt more alive. It broke our hearts to lose you,But you didnt go alone,For part of us went with youThe day God called you home. When beauty, grace and strength are all combinedIn vault, uneven bars and floor and beam,Young girls, petite, yet strong and well defined,Then dance and jump and swing, each with a dream. The sadness of the present daysIs locked and set in time.And moving to the futureIs a slow and painful climb. the Scrabble Kinghas arrived once moreto pound awayat the competition. The Boxer Ross Dix-Peek A poem telling the tale of a physicially worn-out boxer whose mind is still sharp and agile.I Am The Greatest Cassius Clay Muhammed Alis famous poem from the 1960s.Poem for a Boxer At Rest Gabrielle Tinti A poem originally in Italian about a boxer who has fought his last fight. And standing thereTill that calm song is done, at last well shareThe league-spread, quiring symphonies that areJoy in the world, and peace, and dawns one star. As I look into your little boys eyes, I know I have to carry onso I can tell him about his mom. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. She tumbles on the floor with art,Her movements swift and sure,Her strength and flexibility,So wonderful, so pure. It may not display this or other websites correctly. You cant condemn my peoplefor the way they comb their hair they are your people alsoand your griping is unfair.Please dont condemn my friendsfor the way they sit and stare perhaps they see much more than youhad ever hoped was there.They see a different life than youyet they are still the same,searching for some truth like you,trying to find a name.They live an age apart from you,you have no right to claimthe world belongs to only you we love it just the same. Aunt Mabel Don Geiger A poem written for a specific aunt, but which many nieces and nephews can relate to.My Aunt Megan Stokes A poem written for an aunt but can be used for a generic female role model.What My Aunt Meant To Me anon A beautiful poem indicating the place in our hearts that our aunt held. They swiftly snatch a morning snack.One flies away,One flies back. They are all mostly non-religious funeral poems but can be used as part of any service whether in a church or a secular ceremony. The Song of the Reel by W. E. Hutchinson. Some people say keeping a barIs the worst job on the EarthI know the truth; how wrong they areIf only they knew its worth! 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. Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. The laughter and loveIt always shone through. Its fun and its laughterIts planning and strategyBut most of all, its you and me.We laugh, we cheer, we argue a few,but this is a memory made anew. The world needs you.Believe me, its true!Some things need doingThat only you can do. I know you are watching over meAs my life goes on.I will treasure the memories I have of you.I cant believe youre gone. Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling.But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful dayI softly sing. I know I caused you sadness,I know caused you pain,But I was captured by these demons,They wouldnt set me free again. Amazed, I watch the tiny gymnasts all,While praying, as they flip, that none will fall. 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. Sometimes we do the rumba,a foxtrot or a jive,as we dance through our life,each and every day. The second candle represents the courage to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives. adapted from the original by Rudyard Kipling. "You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted." So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings.