The place was very quiet,But not too quiet. When a butterfly come to you, Ive been told,That its from someone in heaven, a past soul.If you keep a look out, if you open your heart,The things that were ordinary will now stand apart.I think if we look, read between the lines,You will find clues and you will find signs,That your loved one isnt past, not really, not gone,That they are not here, that they have just moved on.It is said that there is not death, just life and transitions,From the teachings of Buddha to the beliefs of the Christians.So from my heart, from my hope and belief,May you find many butterflies to assist with your grief. Poems for those who loved building and rebuilding marvellous creations with those famous little bricks. So tell me, what do you do up in heaven?Are your days filled with love and light?Is there music? Dear God, please take care of my little girl,The one with big eyes and soft brown curls.She was special, as you should know.I really didnt want to let her go. Maailmankaikkeus. Walt Whitman Whitmans answer to the meaning of life, central to the film Dead Poets Society. and whatever a sun will always sing is you. 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. Poems encouraging us to think positively in the face of death. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. She says youve only left the room,You havent gone away.But I really miss you, GranddadAnd the games we used to play. There . 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. 'Play up! play up!' | Poetry | The Guardian You are the picture I paint in my headOf beauty that only exists in thought.You are the picture I dream of in bed.Of beauty that I have forever thought. The tired old men who napped. My trumpet is silentAs it is with my life tooNo more shall I play for youThere is nothing left to do. Every gambler knowsThat the secret to survivinIs knowin what to throw awayAnd knowin what to keepCause every hands a winnerAnd every hands a loserAnd the best that you can hope forIs to die in your sleep.. So please bear with us, dear audienceAnd act your part as well:We salute a thespian titanWho had such a good life to tell. Hello there, Granddad.Its me, your little man,I couldnt find you yesterday,When I came to visit Nan. Develop your talents;They are unique.Use your time well;Listen only to positive critique. Twilight and evening bell,And after that the dark!And may there be no sadness of farewell,When I embark. Aroma of Yorks chocolate ten miles away, bread-baking and brewing downwind of Carlislemake me ready for dinner. The fistic world was dull and weary,But with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.Then someone with color and someone with dash,Brought fight fans a-runnin with plenty of cash.For I am the man this poem is about,The next champ of the world, there isnt a doubt.Iamthe greatest! A limb has fallen from the family tree.I keep hearing a voice that says,Grieve not for me.Remember the best times,the laughter, the song.The good life I livedwhile I was strong.Continue my heritage,Im counting on you.Keep smiling and surelythe sun will shine through.My mind is at ease,my soul is at rest.Remembering all,how I truly was blessed.Continue traditions,no matter how small.Go on with your life,dont worry about falls.I miss you all dearly,so keep up your chin.Until the day comeswere together again.. The Cyclist Joyce Elliot A short poem that perfectly describes the atmosphere and internal sensations of a bike ride.Oh! Few things are as fleetingAs footprints in the sand;Sometimes we walk aloneAnd sometimes hand in hand. Butterflies From Heaven anon A poem about what it might mean when a butterfly comes to you.Butterfly Kisses John F. Connor A poem which equates the butterfly to the spirit of those who have left us behind.Little Butterfly Amy Farquhar A poem for a person who lived their life cocooned within the love of their friends.On A Butterflys Wings Jim Howard A short, slightly religious poem about the journey to the next life.While Waiting For Thee anon A beautiful, brief verse about the soul of the departed dancing in the air around us. 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! There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry. The silence hung suspended:It was the last bowl of the day,And everything dependedOn our skipper yet to play.He gazed upon the verdant green His eyes were focused tightOn a sphere that could just be seen:The Kitty shining white. My Old Fishing Boat by Isaac McLellan. 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. In life, they loved their family, With a love that knew no bounds, Their heart was filled with joy and pride, When their loved ones were around. 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. Forget what is happening all around,And keep both feet upon the ground; Dont let anything hurry you,And let each dart fly straight and true! 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. With tearful eyes we watched him sufferAnd saw him slowly fade awayAlthough we loved him dearlyWe could not make him stay. I believe miracles really do come true.No one deserves one more than you. 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. Sadly he has passed away and I'd like to include an evocative piece, perhaps something describing a match or an aspect of the game, that I could read at his funeral. Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,If its only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden. The memoriesI have throughoutThe yearsWill lastforever withLaughter and tears. The wind whispers secrets to meAs I paddle under the open skyAnd the beauty of nature, I can seeIn the sunsets and the birds that fly. One, Two, Three, Four Mark Gregory A poem ideal for the death of a former model and fashion designer.A Photo anon An intimate poem about the feelings that arise upon seeing a beautiful photo of a person. 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. But all the feelings that are nowSo vivid and so realCant hold their fresh intensityAs time begins to heal. The city . 50 Beautiful Funeral Poems To Honor A Loved One's Memory 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. His labourers name was Dodger who would work now and then, most of the time was spent at The Bookies placing bets for other men. A product of where youve been, What youve done and what theyve seen, Theyve learnt most from the example you have set, So not totally to blame, Not too different, but the same, We all think we tried our very best, and yet? They swiftly snatch a morning snack.One flies away,One flies back. It made me laugh, it made me cry.Im unable to explain Ive never known such happinessI did not foresee the pain. Anthea Ballam A wonderful verse about the dual meaning of a conductors call of aaaaand rest!Funeralissimo Michael Ashby A short verse about musical notes lamenting the loss of a talented musician.The Gift To Sing James Weldon Johnson A short verse discussing the wonders of song and its ability to raise spirits.My Trumpet Is Silent anon A verse about being silent in this life, but reunited with past band members in the next.Reflections Of A Boomer anon A verse infused with various song lyrics and titles, perfect for a music lover.Songbird Georgia Lound A wistful verse about following the tune of a loved ones life, even after they die.Where Words Fail, Music Speaks Lucy Rudman A poem about the ability of song to express our feelings. He cannot help but be aware that such is the end of all life. I farmed the land,I tramped the wood,These are the thingsI understood. Poems for those who enjoyed flag collecting or were simply masters of vexillology. And if I dieBefore you do,Ill go to heavenAnd wait for you. It fell on my parching palateLike dew on a sun-baked plain,And my system began to flourishLike the grass in a soft Spring rain;It wandered throughout my being,Suffusing my soul with rest,And I felt as I scoffed that liquidThat life had a new-found zest. They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. 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. I laugh and sing and jest to all, but never let them know,How hard I am at work, and 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. I love to learn about them, and share all that I find,With others who love their fossils just as much as I love mine,They know that fossils are far more than simply rocks and debris,They are a vital window into our worlds history. 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? In my hand I hold a ball.White and dimpled, rather small.Oh, how bland it does appear.This harmless looking little sphere.By its size I could not guess,The awesome strength it does possess.But since I fell beneath its spell,Ive wandered through the fires of hell.My life has not been quite the same,Since i chose to play this stupid game.It rules my mind for hours on end,A fortune it has made me spend.It has made me yell, curse and sigh,I hate myself and want to cry.It promises a thing called par,If i can hit it straight and far.To master such a tiny ball,Should not be very hard at all.But my desires the ball refuses,And does exactly as it chooses.It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies,And even disappears before my eyes.Often it will have a whim,To hit a tree or take a swim.With miles of grass on which to land,It finds a tiny patch of sand.Then has me offering up my soul,If only it would find the hole.Its made me whimper like a pup,And swear that I will give it up.And take to drink to ease my sorrow,But the ball knows: Ill be backTomorrow. Eternal rocks will form my tomb,Sand my quilt shall be,Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,And Ill become one with the sea. H eartbreaks hurt less when you were by my side. 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. Cricket - Funeral Order of Service He arrived, not quite finished off,as his brother said one night,and, I bet Gods feeling awfully sadthat he didnt get him right.. The time you won your town the raceWe chaired you through the market-place.Man and boy stood cheering by,And home we brought you shoulder-high. The batsman pensively departed. Though I may forget you,its important that you seejust how much it means to methat you remember me. and cricket pads. The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes,Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins.Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies-I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise. An old man going a long highwayCame in the evening cold and grayTo a chasm vast and deep and wide.The old man crossed in the twilight dim,The sullen stream had no fears for him,But he stopped when safe on the other sideAnd built a bridge to span the tide. Afterglow - Helen Lowrie Marshall The Trout Brook by Ralph E. McMillin. 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! Poems for Funerals - Etsy 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. One, two, three, four,This is the life that I adore,Five, six, seven, eight,To the end of the stage, and there I wait. 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. Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. Though I see the branches swaying.And watch their dancing leavesThe echoes carried on the windDont sound the same to meAs I listen to the morning birdsSing softly from afar It seems to be a mournful tuneThat echoes in my heart. Poems about the wonderful aunts that were always there for us, through thick and thin. Not quite a reading, but maybe verses from "when an old cricketer leaves the crease", a song by Roy Harper. or hanging inside the dark closet. Peter in his wisdomCan take the mick out of my weight. And I think of you walking along a headlandOf green oats in June,So full of repose, so rich with lifeAnd I see us meeting at the end of a town. cricket poems for funerals They took away my freedom,They took away my choice,And when they got their hooks in,You could hear it in my voice. Entered to the contest "Haiku Encyclopedia" as a shasei haiku. And when he died at just years,his brother comforted me,with, I expect God wants to put him right,but we missed him dreadfully. So let us honour and embrace,Their quiet heart that leaves a trace,Of love and peace, and gentle serene,A vital part of who theyve been. He is a lover of the earth,And all the wonders it gives birth;He is a lover of the bloom,And all the fragrant, sweet perfume. cricket poems for funerals. So dry your tears and smile a smileYou arent alone, you seeYou have this special blanketIts my love, a part of me. When I do finally reach that triple pirouetteand all is done and all is setI put myself back into classAiming for a fourth, to be better than the last. You can go now my loveI must allow you to.The world is a vast and beautiful placeSo much to exploreWithout me. But Im giving up bridge Tonights my last night. Langston Hughes remarks: As Befits a Man. Top 10 Funeral Poems: Beautiful Poems for Funerals Poems for those who brought laughter into our lives. And now as we gather,To say goodbye to you,Well raise a cup of coffee,And honour all youve been through. Capitulation anon A poem about the highs and lows of bridge, and always being on the verge of quitting.The Gambler Kenny Rogers The lyrics to Rogers infamous song about the train ride with the gambler.A Keen Bridge Player Simon Lucas A humorous limerick about forgetting to remove the jokers! 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. But such a tide as moving seems asleep,Too full for sound and foam,When that which drew from out the boundless deepTurns again home! 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. There Is A New Star Shining In The Sky Tonight, Dear God, Please Take Care Of My Little Girl, Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art. 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. PDF A CRICKETER'S LAST BOUNDARY - Kelly Garrick Celebrants Requiem by Robert Louis Stevenson This is a beautiful poem for dad's funeral. The worlds a little quieter nowThe colours have lost their hueThe birds are singing softlyAnd our hearts are missing you. So as the sun sets on my life, a life that was well-lived,I hope that those Ive left behind remember well my gift,And though I have stopped searching, one thing I know is true:My endless love for fossils will never really be through. I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,And the wheels kick and the winds song and the white sails shaking,And a grey mist on the seas face and a grey dawn breaking. Good Afternoon, My father has recently passed and I would like to scatter his ashes at Lords.He was a lover of attending Lords and had many happy days there. The Bowlers Prayer anon A prayer asking for help from God to ensure the bowled ball lands near the Jack.A Crown Green Bowlers Prayer P. Helliwell A verse imploring the Lord to ensure there are games of bowls in heaven.My Last End Graeme Cook A lovely, short poem inspired by memorable games upon that velvet turf.Unbiased Bowls J.J. Hasson A light-hearted poem discussing the bias of bowls and perhaps also of life. E ven in my darkest hours, you were always there for me. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. I sit right beside you when you are sadAnd you look through the photos of times that we hadI watch you sleeping, I hold you so tightBefore I go, I kiss you goodnight. Im climbing a mountainI reach out to touch the blue sky,This feeling of freedomWill live with me until I die. adapted from the original by Rudyard Kipling. Their quiet heart, a noble trait,That listened well, would sit and wait,A steady hand, a patient soul,That brought us peace, and made us whole. Poems about grandfathers, grandpas, and gramps. I have always been a readera devourer of printI have loved the musty smell of librariesthe heft of a book in my handthe sound of pages turningthe sight of words under a flashlightin the dark. Poems admitting that the person we have lost wasnt perfect. I would be wearing a favourite dressYou as always looking your usual bestFeeling like Cinderella at the BallWith the most handsome Prince Charming of all. Those who live long endure sadness and tearsBut youll never suffer the sorrowing yearsNo betrayal, no anger, no hatred, no fearsJust love only love in your lifetime. When I come to the end of my journeyand I travel my last weary mile,just forget, if you can, that I ever frownedand remember only the smile.Forget unkind words I have spoken;remember some good I have done.Forget that I ever had heartache,And remember Ive had loads of fun.Forget that Ive stumbled and blunderedand sometimes fell by the way.Remember I have fought some hard battlesand won, ere the close of the day.Then forget to grieve for my going;I would not have you sad for a day,but in summer just gather some flowersand remember the place where I lay,and come in the shade of the eveningwhen the sun paints the sky in the west.Stand for a few moments beside meand remember only my best.