Its grand to be reunitedWith band members both old and newWe start to play it sounds so goodJust perfect like I expected it would. I may not even be who you think I am,or even who you want me to be.You wish for me to be more like you,Why cant you be more like me? These poems are brief and express your feelings in few but powerful words. 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. Afterglow - Helen Lowrie Marshall Their greatest nemesis and saviour,are known simply as brakes.In order to pass,they wait for mistakes. Im that little breeze in the summerAnd Im that unexpected white featherI plucked it from my downy wingsSo you remember; we are always together. Weve travelled miles upon this earthWithout home behind the carThe fun and laughter we have sharedAs we travelled long and far. Ive learned so much throughout my lifebut theres much I dont recall.I know its in there somewhereBut its hard to find it all.Its not that Ive forgotten you,or the things I said Id do;I remember everythingBut its hidden somewhere I cant seejust beyond my view. A mile of gleaming metal linesThe circle and the park;Out of saddles, boots hit brickAnd make for chapels heart. That you are proud of us and that we will be together again. 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. He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die. His was a life full of kindness and heart,He was selfless, private, but always played his partCaring for animals to him was like art,And his example inspired many others to start. Dear Lovely Death - Langston Hughes. Poems about those who suffered from and in some cases, succumbed to addiction. Roads go ever ever onUnder cloud and under star,Yet feet that wandering have goneTurn at last to home afar.Eyes that fire and sword have seenAnd horror in the halls of stoneLook at last on meadows greenAnd trees and hills they long have known. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. Between the wars, cricket became part of the jolly furniture of upper-class country life. All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. I brood not over the broken past,Nor dread whatever time may bring;No nights are dark, no days are long,While in my heart there swells a song,And I can sing. Just one last effort, I pass the line.Was I first, was I last? You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. We little knew that morning,God was going to call your name.In life we loved your dearly,In death we do the same. My heart often pounding; Im going to burstCome on legs, keep going!I want to come first. I look at the clues That are luring me there. Poems for those who loved nothing better than riding on two wheels. 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. But I was patient and not het upEyes looking down, ears pricked like a pupId calmly wait to hear the callThe call that says this is the ball. 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. She leaps and flips and twists and splits,Her body a blur in motion,Her dedication and discipline,A beautiful emotion. They once built an house with an extension on the side;It was that badly built that no one could reside.He had a young apprentice who soon became his hoddie,he never let him lay the bricks because his work was always shoddy. Poems about losing a child, especially at a young age. Might be some themed words in that that could be used? 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. Pink tights by the moundBobby pins all aroundLeotards on the floorPointe shoes by the door. Addiction Took Another Soul Natasha Henry A sombre poem reflecting on the harm that addiction can cause.Its Me Jacqueline A. Grieve A poem read on behalf of deceased addict, which asks their loved ones for forgiveness.My Son Marie Antoinette A poem written for a mother as a message to her son, who lost the fight against addiction.Pray, Dont Find Fault Rama Muthukrishnan A poem urging people not to judge those who go through hard times. Entered to the contest "Haiku Encyclopedia" as a shasei haiku. Twilight and evening bell,And after that the dark!And may there be no sadness of farewell,When I embark. The Brightest Cave anon A poem from a male to his lover, describing her as the brightest thing Id ever seen.Cave of Wonders Nikki Pruitt A wonderful poem about a trip underground in the caverns so deep.Cave Song Neveah Bradford A short, mournful poem about the cave saying goodbye to its explorers. No wound so deep will ever goEntirely awayYet every hurt becomesA little less from day to day. Be brave.Swim against the stream;Its more than okay. White rose petals fall and blossoms fade,Memories linger yet,Recollections of happier times,You never will forget. We both are made by one in the same.We grew to be different, Im not to blame. Poems for those who were avid football fans or skilled football players. Id like to leave but daffodilsto mark my little way,To leave but tulips red and whitebehind me as I stray;Id like to pass away from earthand feel Id left behindBut roses and forget-me-notsfor all who come to find. Afterwards Thomas Hardy A beautiful poem with many delicately described images of the English countryside.In Memory Of My Mother Patrick Kavanagh A poem written for an Irish mother who loved the countryside.Margarets Moon Jackie Kay A poem about the death of a lady, whose soul is released into the Scottish highlands.My Country Dorothea MacKellar An ode to the wondrous countryside of the authors home. "At Lords" by Francis Thompson is pretty well-known (above wiki > cricket poetry > poems). Little rattle of dry seeds in pods, There were times I tried to fight them,There was a time I nearly won,But they came back and overpowered me,I had nowhere left to run. Langston Hughes remarks: As Befits a Man. I will always remember you, brother of mine.In my heart I will keep you, so I will be fine. We have but a short timeOn this earth,So value your lifeFor what its really worth. So, our sweetYoull never be goneCause your laughter and loveWill always shine through. Lets haste awayFrom the heart of the dayTo the woods refreshing shadeWhere the babbling brookIn some sheltered nookIs gurgling a-down the glade. The world needs you.Believe me, its true!Some things need doingThat only you can do. Oh! They would put in the footings then forget to build the wall, and when they did it was neither short nor tall. Bingo! I cant stand the hassle, I cant stand the painIm getting those bad cards again and again.So Im giving up bridge Tonights a bad night.Declarer is horrid and nothings going right. Time just keeps moving onMany years have come and goneBut I grow older without regretMy hopes are in what may come yet.On the farm I work each dayThis is where I wish to stayI watch the seeds each season sproutFrom the soil as the plants rise out.I study Nature and I learnTo know the earth and feel her turnI love her dearly and all the seasonsFor I have learned her secret reasons.All that will live is in the bosom of EarthShe is the loving mother of all birthBut all that lives must pass awayAnd go back again to her someday.My life too will pass from EarthBut do not grieve, I say, there will be other birthWhen my body is old and all spentAnd my soul to Heaven has went.Please compost and spread me on this plainSo my body Mother Earth can claimThat is where I wish to beThen Nature can nourish new life with me.So do not for me grieve and weepI did not leave, I only sleepI am with the soil here belowWhere I can nourish life of beauty and glow.Here I can help the falling rainGrow golden fields of ripening grainFrom here I can join the winds that blowAnd meet the softly falling snow.Here I can help the suns warming lightGrow food for birds of gliding flightI can be in the beautiful flowers of springAnd in every other lovely thing.So do not for me weep and cryI am here, I do not die. Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. Based on real world data - you can't go wrong with these poems. Mighty proud! They have outlivedtheir usefulness and cannot get warm and full.You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back. There were some lovely lines in the eulogy for Phillip Hughes. 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! I was just an average batsman, and a less than average fielder. A Drinking Song - W. B. Yeats - a short verse pondering over the role of wine and love in life. But in my heart you will be,moving forward, you with me. Copyright 2023 Scattering Ashes or original authors | Powered by. 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. Without you, Dad, I wouldnt beThe (wo)man I am today;You built a strong foundationNo one can take away. 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. who will be next?want to face me?come on dont be shy! Angel Wings anon A beautiful poem about the deep bond a parent forms with a child even when they die young.Asleep Wendy Sisson A short but impactful poem comparing an infants death to a peaceful sleep.A Butterfly Lights Beside Us anon A touching short verse comparing the loss of a child to a butterfly passing by.The Cord anon A beautiful poem about a mothers love for their deceased child being an unbreakable, invisible cord.Dear Child In Heaven anon A poem with a religious sentiment finding comfort in the knowledge of a child in heaven.Fingerprints Tom Krause A poem reflection upon the huge impact a child can have on our lives and our hearts.Little Snowdrop anon A poem to reflect the immense grief a parent might feel when they lose their child.Love In Every Tear anon A poem about the child we had, but never had, yet we will have forever.Never K. Fugleberg A poem lamenting all the things a parent will never get to do with their child.Parenthood Graeme Cook An amusing and thought-provoking poem about the joys and toils of parenting.These Are My Footprints anon A poem that urges us to see the remnants of a lost child in the world around us.Tiny Angel anon A poem reflecting upon the question of why? we had to lose a child at such a young age.Too Soon Mary Yarnall A poem about loving a child enough for a lifetime, even though they were taken too soon.When I Speak Martin Nelson A poem about the positive memories one still has after a childs death. Thou life giving wheelWhose sinews are steelMy veins imbibe life from thine ownAnd I sink to my restWith true loyal zestWhile my dreams are my cycles alone. Years were not easy, many downright hard, but your faith in God transcended,Put away your tools and sleep in peace. And the white light warmed him andnurtured him andfed him great peace. Youve got to know when to hold emKnow when to fold emKnow when to walk awayAnd know when to runYou never count your moneyWhen youre sittin at the tableTherell be time enough for countinWhen the dealins done. Over and over againjust as he had done all his serving dayshis lips would still defiantly and valiantly speakof how he had fought so hard that enemy flamewith every ounce of strength his body could aim. enter an oceanfeeling insignificant,overwhelmed by its enormity. So now its time for restingIve passed the winners lineThink of me, a winning ticketAnd how I lived this life of mine. As blow after blow upon his battered head does fallHe knows but only one way, and that is the brawlAnd though his poor body has long since given inThe Spirit of the Fighter knows no such thing! We dance and we dance,each day through.Everyday to a different tune,just to get us through. cricket poems for funerals. 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. 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). We have a lot to be thankful for,The memories through the years.The many times together,Full of laughter, full of tears. The funeral bell is pealing for one, a last farewell,And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell.Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky,For one bound for his/her last resting place the cemetery nearby. The Sadness Of Clothes Emily Fragos A poem about the sad things clothes might feel when their owner dies.A True Fashionista Mark Gregory A short poem highlighting how the deceaseds beauty will live on after death. Obtainingperfection is my keyIts what I strive for, its all that defines mePushing harder and harder to reach my goalIts what I live for, ballet is my soul. A Poem for Mother. 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. A broad demographic, some salt of the earthWho with them they bring passion, character and worthThe owners, the trainers, the jockeys, the stridethe horses, the strappers, the dreams and the pride. Now Grandmas gone to heaven,But her quilts will long remain,Their beauty and their warmth live on,A comforting, loving refrain. So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. Every songbird has its own unique songAnd yours is my favourite.Would my first steps be as hasty if not for its tempo?Would my spirits be as high if not for its key?Your song walked with me as I grew upLike an underscore, lifting me.And I have always listened, and I always will.For no matter how quiet your tune gets,As the years go on and time passes,Even if it fades out to a gentle hum,The echo of your melody will continue to guide meAnd shape me into the (wo)man that I will become.So, although you arent here to sing it,The beat of your song will continue in our hearts.Its steady rhythm will keep us on track.And now every time I hear a songbirds song,I will think of you, and I will sing back. Nature would speak to usOur world would become onewith peace and understandingand a little bit of fun. O precious, tiny, sweet little oneYou will always be to me.So perfect, pure, and innocentJust as you were meant to be. 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! So heres to you, from all your fans,A legend of the game;We thank you for the memories Football will never be the same. 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. The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. I know well they powerIn each trying hourThou servant so faithful and trueWhen the swift rushing windIs left muttering behindAs thou sippest the sweet morning dew. Its 3 am and youre on my mind,I just cant sleep tonight,I try but toss and turn and cry,Its not fair, or just or right!I close my eyes whisper your name,Into the dark still air,My sweetest child my Angel,This pain I cannot compare.Missing you is such a huge part,Of my life now of my day,Every waking moment youre there,On my mind now to stay.When I sleep youre in my dreams,Calling out so distant so small,I feel you slipping away from me,I just cant get to you at all.Then I wake up bathed in terror,Its like losing you all over again,My heart racing the tears falling,It hurts so very much then.But sometimes when I dream of you,Im holding you in my embrace,Breathing in every inch of you,Gazing into your darling face.This stays with me when I waken,I carry it in my heart,Watching you grow, seeing you change,Even though we are apart.Your name the trees whisper to me,The wind it sings your tune,I know youre there, youre with me,As we gaze at the waning moon.Hold my hand My Angel,As we gaze into the nights wild,These twilight hours are mine and yours,My Angel, my darling my child. 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. A Fantastic Football Fan Anthea Ballam A poem perfect for a huge fan of the beautiful game.The Footballers Prayer Paul Cookson An adaptation of the Lords Prayer, but football themed!The Goalie With Expanding Hands Paul Cookson A poem fitting most of all for an excellent goalkeeper.The Passing Of A Footballer Michael Ashby A poem comparing heaven to a football squad.You Loved The Game Mark Gregory A poem for someone who spent their career wowing fans on the pitch. Poems perfect for amateur and professional sailors, or simply someone who loved all things boat. Please smile and do not shed a tear, wipe away that silly frown,Im off upon that final ride, another Biker who has gone down. Feel no guilt in laughter, theyd know how much you care.Feel no sorrow in a smile that they are not here to share.You cannot grieve forever; they would not want you to.Theyd hope that you could live your life the way you always do.So, talk about the good times and the way you showed you cared,the days you spent together, all the happiness you shared.Let memories surround you, a word someone may saywill suddenly recapture a time, an hour or a day,that brings them back as clearly as though they were still here,and fills you with the feeling that they are always near.For if you keep those moments, you will never be apartand they will live forever locked safely within your heart. With great expectation you quietly sitGaining confidence, you smirk a bit.Here it comes, you see the ball,As you anxiously wait to hear the call. Three weeks after her death,a stranger entered the salonand settled in the chair.She had the colour and shapeof his mothers hair,and when he sunk his hands in it,the texture, even cowlicks,individual as frecklessame.Twice he had to leave the room,and twice, he returnedstill,when he touched her hair, it blurred.Hold still, he said, hold still. A Bricklayer Lou Szymkow A poem reflecting the natural talents and hard-working craft of a bricklayer.Bricklayers Lament Sylvia Spencer A poem about a hard-working builder with a less-than-ideal team beneath him.The Bridge Builder Will Allen Dromgoole A touching poem about building bridges for others, rather than for yourself.Wreckers Or Builders? You know Ill try to hold youeven when my arms cant graspJust to try to bring you comfortwhen your voice lets out a gaspThe feelings that we share herewill transcend just what we seeAnd my horse will still be waitingright beneath our favourite tree. Although I didnt understandI still told everyoneWith a love thats undeniedId say That is my son. But, even in death, Harold Pinter made sure his final farewell was as carefully and poetically orchestrated as his life's. There is a momentIn musical rehearsalWhen all the playersThe choirThe woodwind and brassThe strings and percussionThe entire orchestraStopsAnd there is peace, The conductor says two wordsAnd restVoices cease to singThe woodwind put down oboes and clarinetsThe brass lay down trumpets and trombonesOthers do the sameBecause the music is overThere is no audienceThere is no applauseIn that momentQuietness reignsYet the quiet that followsRemains harmonious, There is a certain silenceA spaceFor reflection and reposeThe music is rememberedAnd so we contemplateThe highsThe lowsThe passage of melodySometimes we feel sadBecause the chordsHave drifted awayFinishedCompleted, Some will feel lossOthers experience reliefAnd others deep sadness, TogetherWe shareThat moment of closureWhen the conductorSaysAnd rest., The musical notes stood in linesDiscordant in their griefBefore regaining their composureAs black tears in embossed relief. Where on Shaftesbury Cres, the kids now play. The Archers Bow Shelbie Hale An ode to the oneness between archer and bow that has now come to an end.The Arrow And The Song Henry Longfellow Wadsworth A verse touching upon the impact people have on our lives.An Arrow Chosen From A Quiver anon A slightly religious poem comparing someones life to the release of an arrow. Apart from its sporting associations, this cheerful song is the audio equivalent of a ray of sunshine - perfect for celebration of life funerals. Maybe the glorious legends, from Phar Lap to the Diva, That leaves me so infected, with the flush of racing fever, The buzz as they are mustered, from the starting gate they lurch, With the Form Guide as my bible, the racetrack as my church. Not quite a reading, but maybe verses from "when an old cricketer leaves the crease", a song by Roy Harper.