You know Ill always ride hereeven when my ridings doneIn the whisper of the pre-dawnor the final burst of sunAt the corners of transitionwhere the changes are obscuredI will ride and if you see meits because our love has endured. We light these five candles in honour of our loved ones: One for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories, one for our love, and one for our hope. Some travel afar, others stay nearbySome pedal fast, some slowBut in common with the lot of usIs the desire to just go. Then as time gently passes by,And comfort soothes your sorrow,Like flowers youll find, new memories bloom,To brighten your tomorrow. A Legacy of Stitches is what we leave behind;the imprint of our very soul that lasts beyond our time.The heart that quilts knows, oh, so well the peace that can be found,as needle meets with fabric, for there is no sweeter sound.Whether quiet piecing done by hand or on our sewing machine,theres rhythm to our stitches as we sew along each seam.Those stitches tell the story of our lives as they unfoldas we think of quilts that Grandma made with stories left untold.The humdrum of our daily lives grows elegant and grand,when we start to cut the pieces, then stitch the fabric in our hands.And whatever is the reason for the quilts we piece and sew,and whoever is the maker, there is one thing that we know.Each quilt is full of memories and is a treasured thing.If quilts could talk, imagine how some quilts would surely sing!For some quilts are sewn in happy times and others when were sad,and some are sewn in laughter and others when were mad.Some are sewn to warm us, and some sewn just for fun,and some are works in progress that never quite get done!Some quilts are sewn for beauty, a quilt made just for show,but the heart of the true quilter is the one who really knows That no matter how the quilt is stitched, we leave our mark in time.This Legacy of Stitches is what we leave behind. Beneath the world of land and skyIs another world; a world that IHave visited for a time, but could not stayAs long as I wanted. Then at the very endWhen they were on their kneesYou still walked tallAnd like your matesYou claimed to take it allThe penalty and the strike,your wayThe win that set your heart aflameThe game, the pitch, the offside ruleThe love that took your heartYour final match at home your ball. As I look into your little boys eyes, I know I have to carry onso I can tell him about his mom. So, Granddad, I will say goodbye.I love and miss you with all my heart,But as long as I have my loving memories,We will never be too far apart. Funeral Poems For Cricketers "A Cricketer's Last Boundary" Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! A 93rd minute winner ensures the days before the next game are filled with hope, a thumping defeat fills hearts with despair. A flame of great power starts within ones heart and soul and mind,That pushes every man to a breaking point so that improvement he will find,Martial arts is more than the art of combat or disarming a gun or knife,Martial arts is food for the mind body and soul, martial arts is a way of life! For the rock outwears the man,And cruel Time wears out the best,But memories were made upon those stones,Before you were laid to rest. Poems for those brave men and women who risked their lives to save others from fire. Neville Cardus is still the gold standard for cricket-related purple prose. MORE THYME! Rejoice now in the knowledgeReturned to you this dayYouve always had the powerTo simply fly away. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreamshis shadow shouts on a nightmare screamhis wings are clipped and his feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. Camping Kaitlyn DeMatteo A short verse contemplating the wonders of camping out under the stars.I Feel You Drifting Darren White A moving, heartfelt verse written by a partner to their lost lover.This Journey Is Just Beginning Ju D. G. A lament upon having to part, but hopeful of what might be to come. Langston Hughes remarks: As Befits a Man. Oh! They kept us warm on winter nights,A sense of peace and calm,They were more than just plain fabric;They were creations of her palm. Richard. The archer and his bowAlways achieve gloryThough this is the endOf their epic story. You truly inspire. And then I thought, I am a partof all this, and I felta great happiness,and I opened the book againand began to read. Stand upon the mountainRaise your wings up highCast aside the chains of fearTrust and you will fly. It is not the only placeWhere people do this, but it is the best.I used to like to come and see themWhen I was young, and that was how I knewThat when they looked so hard and longThey found what they were looking for.I think they did. For in the real scheme of things,Your illness wasnt long.Compared to all the happiness,You brought your whole life long. Only for those of a special breed,Living a dream, a chance to succeed,Yesterdays hopes and desires coming true,Making your mark with records anew,Proving hard work and the daily grind,Instructing the body, conditioning the mindCan capture a medal for the whole world to see, withGlamour and Pride for your country.As you stand aloft and your flag is flown high, theresMemories forever, and a tear in your eye,Enjoying the moment, the admiring looks,Securing your name in the history books. 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. To say it loud was helpful,and although quite absurd,we kept repeating time againthat same annoying word. And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come. Never to kill. Pierce a bulls eye if you darethrow a fine dart through the aircenter it upon the dotgive it everything you got. I have been on the razzle-dazzleFull many a time since then;But I never could get the chemistTo brew that drink again.He says hes forgotten the notion Twas only by chance it came Hes tried me with various liquidsBut oh! Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. )Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renewd,Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,The question, O me! Im climbing a mountainI feel the cool breeze on my face,And the suns beating downIm forever at home in this place. Poems reflecting a passion and love for birds, bird-watching, and anything remotely aviary in nature. Stump and bail flashed and flew; Toes taped so tightlySmiling big and brightlyRed lipstick adding to her beautyThe dancer moves so smoothly. Couples are twirling across the dance floorAnd I wonder why I am here at allSeems a long time since you and I were hereYet it was only this same time last year. 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. Long life to her for theres no other,to take the place of my dear mother. 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. 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. There was a time when I was freeTo live my life in harmony,Before the illness, which blighted me,Swept faces and places from my mind,People I loved from my memory. A troublemaker, a teacher, a friend. It's a powerful memorial poem to celebrate someone who knew they were dying and lived life to its fullest up until their last breath. Guided by the Lonely Star,beyond the utmost harbour-bar,Ill find the heavens fair and free,and beaches of the Starlit Sea.Ship, my ship! I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tideIs a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,And the flung spray and the blown spume and the seagulls crying. Id like to sow the barren spotswith all the flowers of earth,To leave a path where those who comeshould find but gentle mirth;And when at last Im called uponto join the heavenly throngId like to feel along my wayId left no sign of wrong. It was the way he moved that made him seemSo much a part of what he did;In every somersault and cartwheelHe seemed to turn himself to air. (New annually renewing membership only. "Death Is Nothing At All" by Robert Scott Holland. To hunt a bird,To wet a line,Gifts from God,So good and fine. 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. But then, like sunshine, here and goneYou left us in the mournful dark.The time we shared was full of warmthOur flame sustained us through the yearsAnd now it lights the path aheadBetween the silence and the tears. Give my spare parts so some young buckMay make a start upon the roadTake the pannier of lifeAnd balance carefully his load. The sun goes down,But gentle warmthStill lingers on the land. The time has come when time is no moreand all thats left was once before. Thanks Perfect for him: right field inbaseball, an eccentrics positionthough he thought of drifting into otherfields beyond. I dont know when it started,Or how it all began,But God created families,As only our Lord can. Farewell to Middle-earth at last.I see the Star above my mast! Brothers Steve Mason A poem contemplating the unique bond of trust and loyalty that brothers share.For My Brother Shelly Domenici A touching tribute to a brother gone too soon.Memories Tamarah M. Olsen A poem reflecting upon the fond memories shared with a brother.My Brother anon A poem reflecting the many ups and downs of a relationship with a brother. Scatter my ashes at Pemaquid Point*,Let the wind sail them home to the sea.Cradle of life, be my cradle in death,And set my spirit free. My feet ache, my hands are numb.Will this day ever be done?I head home with talc in my lung,and some hair stuck in my thumb. 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. Beer Is Just Fine - Roy Pett - A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer. Best Rugby Poems. Show all. With every stroke, I feel so freeAs I glide across the wavesThe world and its worries, I can seeDrifting away in a haze. There once was a man from round hereWho loved flags more than he loved beer,He flew them with prideFrom morning til nightAnd even slept with them, so we hear! So fleeting is this thing called life, we journey toward its end,experiencing pieces of a puzzle we dont truly comprehend.The hues of our emotion paint a picture of our past,as we hurtle toward a destiny that is not meant to last.Youth a canvas all in white, not knowing what awaits,feel caresses of a brush that which we know as fate.Love so very true in reds, that beat within our heart,shadows black take form as hate, which tears the soul apart.Greens of joy and happiness, lush grass beyond compare,sadness, shrouded depths of blue, the waters of despair.Yellow screams of agony and pain which we endure.Guilt and shame are shades of grey, a torrential downpour.Earthy brown desires are that for which we lust,the loss of which comes with age, like chrome begins to rust.The image changing constantly as time plods slowly on,taking shape in many forms, as the twilight replaces dawn.We look into a mirror for the answers which we seek,but we find no consolation as our eyes grow dim and weak.The final touches on a painting created with much love,as we realise that the destination is the gallery above. Which organisations allow you to scatter? And yet the cares are manyand the hours of toil are few;There is not time enough on earthfor all Id like to do;But, having lived and having toiled,Id like the world to findSome little touch of beautythat my soul had left behind. Most prefer it flyingFree to wave and blowNot sitting on a mantelWithout the stripes to show. 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. Then there are the moves;Always limited,restricted by the fear of capture, of failure,there are only so many times we can move sideways,move forwards,before we feel the fear of being too far out, too vulnerable. 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. Dont judge me, for I am just like you.I can feel, I can love, and I can cry too. Ring out false pride in place and blood,The civic slander and the spite;Ring in the love of truth and right,Ring in the common love of good. You explain death to the clothes like that dream.You tell them how much you miss the spouseand how much you miss the pet with its little winter sweater. The, of Children's Picture Books: Childcraft,, s and An Ode to Cricket at Kings School and a couple of Storms What is cricket, the teatowel factor, ESPN Cricinfo, Ten, s about Cricket, Candlestick Press, Poetry Pamphlets. And though our arms are empty,Our hearts know what to do.For every beating of our heartsSays that we love you. And I hate all those worthies who avert their eyesBecause Ive forgotten to zip up my flies.I excuse myself saying Its quite plain to seeIll have far less bother the next time I pee!In the human race maybe Im just also ranBut I dont give a toss Im a grumpy old man! Life is chess.There is always a competitor;one side is always dealt a better hand,pressure to win for bothpressure to impress. It made me laugh, it made me cry.Im unable to explain Ive never known such happinessI did not foresee the pain. It took you as my mother,A girl you did become.Searching for the answersAnd looking for your mum. 20+ Most Popular Funeral Poems - Heavenly Doves Guest. T he one person I could always take my troubles to. 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. Im climbing a mountainI reach out to touch the blue sky,This feeling of freedomWill live with me until I die. So Im off for a golfing holiday,Far away fromThe cares of town.And Ill strive each dayBetter golf to playtill my handicap comes down. Stepping into his workshop to start the day,Different pieces of wood laid in array,The scent of cedar filling the air,A piece of furniture he works to prepare,Handcrafted with love and the finest precision,A work came to life with what he could envision,Measuring the wood for the perfect size,Tape measure at hand from his supplies,Reaching for a saw lying on a shelf,He whistles a familiar tune to himself,Cutting the wood with the utmost care,A type of craftsmanship no other can compare,Skilled at working with his hands,He strives to use them for all of lifes demands,Hands that could craft his hearts desires,Creating a lifetime of work to be forever admired,The ability to turn something simple into grand,The only tools he needed were his left and right hand,Each piece of work embodies his spirit and love,A talent he was blessed with from the Lord above,The carpenter lives on through his creations,His heart the framework to all his foundations, Why, Oh why, didnt I build my own coffin?Now that the chips are downThen I wouldnt have a splinter in my bumWith me unable to protest in sound, My lifes jigsaw is dovetailed awayAnd its my turn now to walk the plankBut my coffin maker also made the boatAnd fortunately for me, it sank, Ashes to ashes, sawdust to sawdustMy preservative has whittled awayFarewell to the woods, farewell to the treesA master craftsman now lies at ease.