Theres not a pair of legs so thin, theres not a head so thick,Theres not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.But it can find some needful job thats crying to be done,For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one. Dance with the wavesMove with the seaLet the rhythm of the waterSet your soul free. The poet laureate, Simon Armitage, has released a poem to mark the death of Queen Elizabeth II. Words have that kind of poweryou remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornlyfolded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs. Hey, you guys, dont feel guilty,It was just my time to go.I can see youre all feeling sad,I can see the tears still flow. Should you require a celebrant for your ceremony, be it a funeral, a wedding, a naming ceremony or something else, feel free to get in touch. With every brick, a story told,A bright creation, sturdy and bold,A masterpiece that broke the mould:A legacy that will never grow old. When you get what you want in your struggle for wealthAnd the world makes you King for a day,Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,And see what that guy has to say.For it isnt your Father, or Mother, or Wife,Who judgement upon you must pass.The feller whose verdict counts most in your lifeIs the guy staring back from the glass.Hes the feller to please, never mind all the rest,For hes with you clear up to the end,And youve passed your most dangerous, difficult testIf the guy in the glass is your friend.You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,And get pats on the back as you pass,But your final reward will be heartaches and tearsIf youve cheated the guy in the glass.Hes the fellow to please, never mind all the restFor hes with you clear up to the endAnd youve passed your most dangerous, difficult testIf the man in the glass is your friend. If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,He was one who had an eye for such mysteries? Chris Gayle Cricket is a team game. The Cyclist Joyce Elliot A short poem that perfectly describes the atmosphere and internal sensations of a bike ride.Oh! 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. 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. So jealously I stare at the starsBut you are all I see;For they are where your heart residesAnd where I long to be. A ball point pen just wouldnt do That really is the case For I would be at quite a loss If I could not erase! Funeral Poems; Memorial Poems, sayings, quotes, and verses; Celebration of Life Poems; Remembrance Poems The Comfort and Sweetness of Peace After the clouds, the sunshine, after the winter, the spring, after the shower, the rainbow, for life is a changeable thing. These are examples of the best cricket poems written by PoetrySoup members Home Submit Poems Login Sign Up Member Home My Poems My Quotes My Profile & Settings My Inboxes My Outboxes Soup Mail Contests Poems Poets Famous Poems Famous Poets Dictionary Types of Poems Quotes Short Stories Articles Forum Blogs Poem of the Day New Poems Resources . Although we fell and stumbled at times,all those hills were necessary climbs. They smoked, and talked of stocks and shares, We kick off-side by side in a minuteCheered by old family, teammates and friendsFootballs really a blast in heavenAfter your first whistle, the matches never end! Her eyes were bright as shining starsAnd in her cheeks fair roses you see.We had a wonderful grandmother,And thats the way it will always be. 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. 50+ Cricket Quotes and Sayings - CoolNSmart I cannot speak, but I can listen. 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. I pray the Captain sets his fieldWith telepathic skill,That all his plans work wellAnd that the catches do not spill. The world needs you.Believe me, its true!Some things need doingThat only you can do. At the moment of birth, I held you closeI looked into those eyes I saw myself, I saw your soulA bond that never dies. Poems for watchmakers, clock collectors, or anyone who had a passion for timekeeping. At Lords Francis Thompson A condensed version by the famous poet encapsulating the atmosphere at Lords.Cricketers Last Boundary Michael Ashby A poem for a cricket-lover full of cricketing metaphors.A Cricketers Prayer anon A prayer that the game of cricket (and life) will be won, or at least be fair.The Cricketers Prayer East Leeds CC An adaptation of the Lords Prayer put together by a Yorkshire club. Short Cricket Quotes I'm jealous of my parents; I "ll never have a kid as cool as theirs. I am a martial artist. People emerge from winter to hear them ring,children glitter with mischief and the blind man hearsbells in the town alight with spring.Even he on his eyes feels the caressingfinger of Persephone, and her voice escaped from tearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. 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!. Brothers and sisters came next,With that, an instant friend.Someone to look up to,Someone on whom to depend. As we say goodbye, and bid them adieu,We remember the flag, and all it stands for true.A symbol of liberty, for all to see,We honour their memory, and now set it free. Pinter's perfectly scripted farewell - The Independent 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. When I speak your name,It still brings music to my ears,And I can still see your smileAs if heaven is so near. We have a lot to be thankful for,The memories through the years.The many times together,Full of laughter, full of tears. If I had a voice nowIt would be lovingAnd I would say thank you for all of your care.If I had a voice nowId want to tell youIm sorry for not always wanting to be there.My life, it confused you, it did so to me.But I am released now and my heart is free.The heart that was hidden beneath all the pain,It felt so much more than I could explain.And if I had a voice now,Id say out loudI love you, I wish that Id made that clear.And in my lifetimeI need you to knowThat I was much more than I did appear.These are things that Id say through choiceif I had a chance and if I had a voice. Footprints Robert Longley A beautiful verse about the importance of memories.Pemaquid Point Mary Oliver-Rotman A versatile pome about scattering ones ashes at a favourite beach destination.The Sight Of The Ocean anon A short, touching poem about the final moments spent on the beach by the sea.The Tide Recedes M. D. Hughes A short poem about the ebb and flow of life and tides, and what they leave behind. We sit a whileWe guess bird namesWe look them upWe watch bird games. Save The Scottish Regiments by joining them, The Fleet Air Arm and the War in Europe - 1939-1945 by David Hobbs, A basic guide to model making by Smeggers, Modelling Forum - Military & non military models, Guidance for the public on the mental health and wellbeing aspects of COVID-19, Memorable stuff from your formative years. Today, the road all runners come,Shoulder-high we bring you home,And set you at your threshold down,Townsman of a stiller town. 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. The fifth candle we light for hope: that you will live on through us, never be erased from our memory, that your life continues to make a difference in the world. The members sat in their strong deckchairs, He took his place upon the matAt the angle that he wanted;So rigidly he stood there, thatIt looked like he was planted.He eyed the flag up on the mastAnd weighed the wind a blowing;He called experience from the pastTo guide where the bowl was going. With every breath, their quiet heart,Was steadfast, true, and pure in part,A steady beat, a gentle pace,That led us to a peaceful place. 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. Having this knowledge makes the fire fighters,our heroesof the past, present and future. To hunt a bird,To wet a line,Gifts from God,So good and fine. 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. 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. He was teaching what it meansTo love, honor, and obey.He wanted a strong bondThat we dont see too much today. Where on Shaftesbury Cres, the kids now play. Our LeatherWhich we hit with willowBoundaries be thy aimThy googly comesThy may be out as it isAccording to the Umpires fingerGive us this day our daily inningsAnd forgive us our LBWsAs we forgive them that stump usLead us not back to the pavilionBut deliver us from a duckFor thine is a silly mid offWith a deep backward short legAnd cover pointFor over and overOwzat! The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawnand he names the sky his own. Badge Of A Yorkshireman anon A poem emphasising the qualities demonstrated by a true Yorkshireman. 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. Pray dont find fault with the man who limpsor stumbles along the road,unless you have worn the shoes he wearsor struggled beneath his load.There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,though hidden away from view,or the burden he bears, placed on your backmight cause you to stumble too.Dont sneer at the man whos down todayunless you have felt the blowthat caused his fall or felt the shamethat only the fallen know.You may be strong, but still the blowsthat were his if dealt to you,in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,might cause you to stagger too.Dont be too harsh with the man who sinsor pelt him with word or stone,unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,that you have no sins of your ownfor you know perhaps if the tempters voiceshould whisper as softly to youas it did to him when he went astray,it might cause you to stumble too. Free Funeral Poems and Memorial Verses - Next Gen Memorials If I were there, Id tell you I have no more pain or strife,That I loved my friends and family, and I had a wonderful life.If I were there, Id tell you how I loved the small blue highways,I loved the curving mountain roads, and I loved to ride the back-road byways. Just one last effort, I pass the line.Was I first, was I last? Ive grown up with your values,And Im very glad I did;So heres to you, dear father,From your forever grateful kid. Poems for those who had a passion for butterfly collecting and breeding, or just enjoyed watching them flutter by. When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear. Oh life! It also comes in handy When Im working on a rhyme. 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. The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. So let us ride to help make others aware.That the roads that we ride are for all to share. 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 . You radiate warmth like a blazing fire.You are courage and wisdom. Heartfelt memories of a daughterwhose love was sweet and pure,to lose someone so preciousis a pain thats hard to endure. You were the jewel in our heartsYou were loved in every way.Now youre gone, youre truly missedeach and every day. One, two, three, four,Getting older now, cant take any more,Five, six, seven, eight,Model life is done, it was truly great. Go on with the day,go on with the night,enjoy the richeslife has to offer. It broke our hearts to lose you,But you didnt go alone,For part of us went with youThe day God called you home. I've picked 10 of my favourite funeral verses including a special funeral poem for a Dad. Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend and the bike leans with me. Sweetheart, I love youBut I cannot bind you to meI see the longing in your eyeswhile you are watching these mountainsthose sunsets. cricket poems for funerals You want for them the best,But they put you to the test,And seem intent, your efforts to defy,Beseech, threaten, teach or cheer,They so seldom seem to hear,No matter how bloody hard you may try. You left us beautiful memories,Your love is still our guideAnd though we cannot see you,You are always by our side. We miss him in his gardenDoing odd jobs here and there.We miss him at the tableWhen we see the empty chair.We miss him at the firesidewhen we gather round the blaze.We miss him, oh, we miss himIn a hundred different ways.When troubles came the familyWould always turn to him.He always had a cheery wordWhen things were looking grimAnd now hes gone we know he wouldntWant us to be sad But life can never be the sameWithout the Dear Old Dad. The first rose represents our grief.The pain of losing you is intense.It reminds us of the depth of our love for you. And Rest Rev. Be and bebetter. Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. We think of you as yesterday,When you were fit and well.And when were asked about you,Its those things that well tell. If I could fly like a birdmy face would touch thethe clouds while myfeathers hit the groundas the wind cools medown. Some folk drive for transport, just a means unto an end,They treat cars as a mere machine, and not a trusted friend,Concerned only for the badge in front, how bright it may be shining,And the many pretty toys inside, their egos there defining. Deeper down I goso unknown steps belowexploring further than anyones beenthere seems to be no end. My grandfather said that of those he could hire,Not a servant so faithful he found,For it wasted no time, and had but one desire At the close of each week to be wound.And it kept in its place not a frown upon its face,And its hands never hung by its side,But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died.

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