I Love Rugby. The years went by so quicklyfrom when I held you at my breast To watch you grow to a beautiful womanand finally leave the nest. Oh life! We rubbed our chins and scratched our heads just what did it mean?Try menacing, or angry,or something in between? When I speak your name,It still brings me tears,And I wish I could hold youFor oh so many years. He taught us all so much;his brother how to care,tenderness bonded the family;it grew from our despair. A beautiful garden now stands alone,missing the one who nurtured it,But now she is gone. Margaret Thatchers ashes are to be interred at the Royal Chelsea Hospital. We would all sit at the tableEveryone in their placeThere were never any surprisesWe recognised every face. Sorry I had to cut the end off, but ARRSE only lets you post 10,000 characters at a time. A ball will bounce; but less and less. The Lego builder, with skill and care,Constructed worlds, beyond compare,With towers tall, and cities fair:A legacy, to last and share. Survival and loveare what counts, and arentgames. The laughter and loveIt always shone through. Do not go gentle into that good night, Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.I give a share of my soul to the world where my course is run.I know that another shall finish the task I must leave undone.I know that no flower, nor flint was in vain on the path I trod.As one looks on a face through a window, through life, I have looked on God. Where on Shaftesbury Cres, the kids now play. The road you feel, within your palms, at every bend you take,Every bump and line and camber, each triumph and mistake,Your car it tells you all of this, for this is truly livin,Petrol flowing through the veins, and ways it can be driven. Sir Henry Newbolt's "Vitai Lampada" ("Play up! To the likes of you and me?So, my friends, come walk a while, the futures ours to see. So sleep now with the angels,And your golden heart let rest.Although our hearts are broken,We know God took the best. Luther F. Beecher A verse comparing a ships journey to the idea of death.Psalm 23 Sailors Edition anon A revised version of Psalm 23 adapted to include sailing metaphors.Sailors Rest D.R. With a nod of the head, or a grip of the hand,He will give you his bond, that for ever will stand,And nothing much safer youll find in the land;For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. 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. I pray that if a batsmanLoops a ball into my lap,Ill pouch it without too much fuss,And get a well-earned clap. Green sod above, Lie light, lie light. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stay,And early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. Kazmierczak A light-hearted poem about trying (and often failing) to get a strike.The End Of The Alley Mark Gregory A poem filled with bowling terminology about what we hope for when we die.A Ten-Pin Bowlers Prayer anon An adaptation of the Lords Prayer, but for ten-pin-bowlers. 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. Its always opening time in heavenAnd the alcohol doesnt go to your headIt floats around in ones etherAnd fortifies your spirit instead. 20 Beautiful Funeral Poems For Dad To Help Comfort 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. The audience is waitingFamiliar faces all aroundOnce again the baton strikesAnd I hear that familiar sound. The members sat in their strong deckchairs, When I speak your name,It still brings music to my ears,And I can still see your smileAs if heaven is so near. You can also find an index of topics at the top of this page. If they mention a 'he' or 'she' you can always change that. Floral Tribute, which has been distributed by Armitage's publisher, Faber, is a double acrostic . You were really one in a million,A cut above the rest.All who knew you would agree.You simply were the best. The archer and his bowCannot be torn apart;For shot after shotThey share the same heart. Though the day was made for scaling,And the dusk gathers too soon,You and mellgono more a-climbingBy thelight of the moon. It rang an alarm in the dead of the night An alarm that for years had been dumb;And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight That his hour of departure had come.Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chimeAs we silently stood by his side;But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. Each one was pieced with tender care,With threads of love and light,A labour of love taking time and skill,For each quilt that lay in sight. Over'? Main Menu. Listen to the storiesthe old trees tell in hushing voices,the rushing sounds of ocean waves . I do not despair If a few I cant solve But begin on the down clues With extra resolve. You took a piece of me with you the day you left,leaving me unable to catch my breath. The photograph above was unearthed from the countless images to be found on the web. Are there Bowling Greens in Heaven Lord?Crown Greens I mean for me?Will there be lush grass, warm breezesAnd endless cups of tea? document.getElementById( "ak_js_1" ).setAttribute( "value", ( new Date() ).getTime() ); Scattering Ashes UK The Chapel 11 Seale Hayne Newton Abbot Devon TQ12 6NQ Email: [email protected] Tel: 01626 798198. Going to second Mass on a summer SundayYou meet me and you say:Dont forget to see about the cattleAmong your earthiest words the angels stray. I imagine you watchingThe many things I doProudly standing beside meAs I remember and honour you. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-cappd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. 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. His bricks though were not just forged in fire,His family were his foundation and his desireThe mortar was his love, his caring, his skillHe loved you all dearly, and loves you all still. They were the glue that held us all in place, The one we could always depend on, Their warmth and kindness never failed, Their love, an endless fountain. I know not of richesBut rather, of patches on my britchesI know of draught and rain,Of pleasure and pain. This poem by Robert Burns describes a friend who is an honest man, a guide to youth and an informed human being. When your own words fail you, a poem can serve as a perfect funeral reading or eulogy. I laugh and sing and jest to all, but never let them know,How hard I am at work, and just how fast the moments go,I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by. So be kind to your partners and dont mind their cheek.For its only a game Oh! It made me laugh, it made me cry.Im unable to explain Ive never known such happinessI did not foresee the pain. So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. If theyd only see the truth, In this masquerade of youth, A parents job would be one of far less stress, But they crave the grog and smokes, Hang around with the wrong blokes, And dont ever dare advise them how to dress. Poems about those who were selfless in all aspects of their lives. Beer Is Just Fine - Roy Pett - A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer. But it is only a game, right?So we stand up, we shake hands.We move on with our lives. 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 We did so much togetherrode in carsshared our lovenear the campfireWith soft and tender armsTamed broken pasts. Poems for those who loved exploring caves and caverns underground. Ive got the bowling ball blues.Now all I want is a spare.But all I get is bad news.Im always off by a hair.Come on now, roll like thunder,Drop those pins asunder:Cure my bowling ball blues. 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. Core of my heart, my country! One, two, three, four,Heels click down on the catwalk floor.Five, six, seven, eight,Head held high and back dead straight. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. I hold onto memories of you And cherish them with love God took you from this world So, you could be with Him in Heaven I lost you too soon But I will never forget you. I pray that my side score quick runsAnd our opponents falter,And if it comes to pass we lose,I pray the games a belter. He knew that you were suffering,He knew you were in pain;He knew that you would neverGet well on earth again. My mind has ways of taking mewhere I dont want to go.I know I know you name, you see;Just right now its hard for meto think of things I really knowand to know what really is,and what may not be so. give me the flavourof butterscotch and vanillawith a little chocolateplease and thank you. 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 . We shared ourBirthdaySince I was five.My wish now will beTo have you back healthyAnd alive. He will hold you in his arms and the angels will sing. BINGO! Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of Chatham. 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.
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