I have met him away from his own native dales,In cities and lands where strange language prevails;Yet a breath of his county he always exhales,and thus you will know hes a Yorkshireman. Mother wore an ample apronTo cover her clean dress.Shed tell you thats what it was forIf you asked her, I would guess. She loved to pop out for a walk or a stroll,But illness and age in the end took its tollHer passing will leave in our lives a great hole,Shell be missed as a wonderfully generous soul. Poems for those who enjoyed the unique challenges and sounds of the bowling alley. Her apron could bring gigglesIn a game of peek-a-booWith her newest, sweet grandbabyAs she hid her face from view. Some people say keeping a barIs the worst job on the EarthI know the truth; how wrong they areIf only they knew its worth! This bond that even death cant breakwill keep you here close by But I feel such pain and miss youmy Tiny Butterfly. 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. Avaruus Ja Thtitiede. Three cheers for firefighters!HIP HIP HOORAY!HIP HIP HOORAY!HIP HIP HOORAY! We had a wonderful grandmotherOne who never really grew oldHer smile was made of sunshineAnd her heart was solid gold. Dont judge me for I am just like you.I can feel, I can love, and I can cry too. The last time he cut his mothers hairthe rude morning sunleft no corner of her kitchen private,the light surgically cleanwhere it fell on his scissors.Her hair fell in a blonde circleon the lake blue tilesmell of coffeeand cinnamon; her laughingshook her head, Hold still, he said,his hands surfeit with the curland softness of her hair. Could you sit and rock her and read her a story?Shes probably afraid; please tell her dont worry.Tell her mommy loves her and wishes she could be here,But it wont be for many more years. Shimano SPD Cleats SH51 MTB SPD - Single Release, Fresh Goods Friday 642 Cake For Me, Corned Beef For You, Whats Open At Glentress? In my kayak I find peaceOn the water, all is calmThe rhythm of the paddles releaseAll the stress and all the qualms. When at last the harvest comesAs the fields receive the dew,A life well lived leaves legacyThe Masters plan in view. Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him seesThat half a proper gardeners work is done upon his knees,So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and prayFor the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away! So as we gather here today, To say our last goodbyes, We know that they will always beIn our hearts and in our minds. Bottles of red, bottles of white,Barrels of brown and glasses so bright,Keep the night peaceful and the customers polite,Dont let a fight break out tonight. But when, to show affection for my son,she gives him candy, who can bear her eyes?begging from a tiny serious idolforgiveness for the terrible gift of timeshe once held out with beautiful, ignorant hands. 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. 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. Pause in their dance and break the ring for me; Dim, shady wood-roads, redolent of fern. Eyes the shady night has shutCannot see the record cut,And silence sounds no worse than cheersAfter earth has stopped the ears. The pieces on the floorThey are there but nothing moreLike the pieces of a heartI can glue them part by partIm gonna build a Lego houseAnd a Lego bridgeFor my Lego spouse, Im gonna place them one by oneFor my Lego sonand my Lego friendsThey never run awayThey never leave me in the waves, Lego loveLego hatredLego buildings that Ive created, I might be out of mindout of sightout of timebut Im forever the queen of my Lego house, I might be out of loveout of touchout of soundbut Im forever the queen of my Lego house. 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. But now that you are sleeping,And your mind is finally free:I pray one day, now youre at rest,That youll finally remember me. 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. as when he showed up immaculately dressed in slacks and plaid jacketand had that beautiful smile on and youd talk.Youd go to get something and come back and hed be gone. Its all these thingsand so much more,so dont stress.If you lived your lifeWild-n-free,Then its been a success. And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,Till they rise again, as they were a new bells boom,He hears it not now, but used to notice such things? Just remember that I need you,That the best of me is gone,Please dont fail to stand beside me,Love me til my life is done. Magnificent machines,often tease disaster.Fearless warriors,strive for nothing but faster. Go after your dreams.Be bold. This kid fights great. Can't help with any specific reference, but Simon Barnes of the Times is a superb writer on any sport, and is always excellent on cricket (Google may help you here). Rev. Do Not Ask Me To Remember Owen Darnell A poem about how much dementia patients need their family.Mum Alison Howard A poem about dementia originally written for a mother that can be adjusted to any relation.That You Remember Me Daniel Mark Extrom A poem urging family to always remember their lost loved ones.You Have Dementia, That Is True anon A poem reflecting the challenges that come with dementia later in life.Walk With Me Norma McNamara An uplifting poem about staying positive in the face of dementia. Always dressed in the finest clothes,A true fashionista no-one could oppose.Your style was so impeccable and bold;Your passion for fashion will never grow old. Cannot be used in conjunction with other offers, or when switching memberships), Contact UsPrivacyForum RulesClassifieds RulesLink RemovalNewsletter SettingsAdvertising, Viewing 10 posts - 1 through 10 (of 10 total). The magical sound of leather on willowThe sweet smell of freshly cut grassThecricketer crossing the last boundaryTo a third innings that would forever last. Grandmas quilts held memories,Of bygone days and years,Of loved ones gathered round the hearth,And tales of joy and cheer. I will not cast the first stoneI have none in my handEven though your life at timesWas not how I had planned. We sit a whileWe guess bird namesWe look them upWe watch bird games. 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. Only to change. When the birds start to singAfter my owls hoot;Dont let it slip thatManners dont cost a thing. Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. 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. 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. Theatre of Dreams John Read A short verse lamenting the end of a wonderful act of living.Youll Never Walk Alone Rodgers and Hammerstein The well-known song can work just as well as spoken word. Although your jokes were not that funny,And you seldom spent your money,Last to the bar and first to leave,That youre gones hard to believe. Is there art and adventure?Tell me are you happy? Crystals form almost uniformwhere many cave creatures are bornflowing walls made of stonebeautiful formations have grown. Some Folk Pam Nelson A poem reflecting on how a person made everyone around them feel special and loved. So, think about this long and hard.Are there things youd like to change?For you never know how much time is leftThat can still be rearranged. Poems for those who were keen on loosing an arrow from a bow. She dances on the balance beam,So light, so free, so full of grace,Her body moves with effortless ease,In this, her chosen place. One, two, three, four,Getting older now, cant take any more,Five, six, seven, eight,Model life is done, it was truly great. When my sailing days are over,And I sail the seas no more,I shall build myself a refugeBy the oceans murmuring shore.As I watch the foaming breakersWhen the tide comes rushing in,I will contemplate my lifetimeWith its virtues and its sins. I am a sailor, youre my first mate,We signed on together, we coupled our fate,Hauled up our anchor, determined not to fail,For the hearts treasure, together we set sail. They help to capture the spirit of the person lost and express the feelings of the people left behind. So rest in peace, chess master,Your love for the game will live on,Forever etched in the hearts of allWho knew and loved you for so long. My heart often pounding; Im going to burstCome on legs, keep going!I want to come first. Your love for coffee was a passion,A way to start each day anew.It gave you strength and courage,To do the things you had to do. We both are made by one in the same.We grew to be different, Im not to blame. If you can lend a hand, when hand is needed,And with your clubmates, you can take your turn,So, marking, clocking, checking can be speeded,And each and every job you thus will learn.If you can join the throng at payout dinner,And laugh and joke and join in all the fun,And really mean it when you clap each winner,Yet know fulwell that you have nowt to come. At PoemSearcher.com find thousands of poems categorized into thousands of categories. Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. Im stuck in this uncomfortable place of pain that no one can see.I ask God to bring you back as I fall to my knees. of the questions of these recurring,Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filld with the foolish,Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless? Green sod above, Lie light, lie light. He has achieved successwho has lived well,laughed often, and loved much;who has enjoyed the trust ofpure women,the respect of intelligent men andthe love of little children;who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;who has left the world better than he found itwhether by an improved poppy,a perfect poem or a rescued soul;who has never lacked appreciation of Earths beautyor failed to express it;who has always looked for the best in others andgiven them the best he had;whose life was an inspiration;whose memory a benediction. 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. And be less quick to angerAnd show appreciation moreAnd love the people in our livesLike weve never loved before. 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. My cards are all rotten and I have forgottenWhos played and whats trumps and whats gone on my right!So for now its all over Im off to the back woodIm bidding good-bye to Gerber and Blackwood. I loved when that engine rumbled,And the biker friends who rode with me, would help me when I stumbled.You are amongst my dearest friends, brothers and sisters of the road,Weve travelled many miles together, shared many heavy loads. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. In the grey summer garden I shall find youWith day-break and the morning hills behind you.There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.Not from the past youll come, but from that deepWhere beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:And I shall know the sense of life re-bornFrom dreams into the mystery of mornWhere gloom and brightness meet. 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. Show all. So long as love and hope and dreamsAbide in earth and sky,Weep not for me, though I be gone.I shall not really die. My pencil is ready; The boxes are bare. I dont give a jot!Ive railed and Ive raved since my dotage beganIts my privilege, cos Im a grumpy old man. The steely spring and the musical ringOf the blade with the biting grip,The stretching draw of the bending oarThat rounds the turn with a whip. Climbing up inclines so tall,treading carefully as not to fallemerging from the depthstaking several deep breathsI make my way to the surfacethe thought of leaving makes me nervous. 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. Then as the flowers transcendedAnd the night closesNothing is brokenOnly waiting to be mended. 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. There are so many poems for funerals available, that you have plenty to choose from. Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of Chatham. 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.