The position may, inthe eyes of some, appearto be a lowly one; but those who know thework which a firemanhas to do believehis is a noble calling.Our proudest momentis to save Lives.Under the impulseof such thoughtsthe nobility of theoccupation thrills usand stimulates us todeeds of daring,even ofsupreme sacrifice. Coast to coast across England in one day;A hundred miles in one trip. 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. But, even in death, Harold Pinter made sure his final farewell was as carefully and poetically orchestrated as his life's. A hobby, a pastime, a talent, a pleasureSome things to be worn and others to treasureHer needles now silent, not a sound they will makeBut a lesson she taught us, to give more than you take. Too soon he left to travelBeyond where we can seeBut its all about the journeyForever riding free. God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. Its anyone youve ever lovedwho mourns you in the end. Poems for those who loved exploring caves and caverns underground. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. Without you, Dad, I wouldnt beThe (wo)man I am today;You built a strong foundationNo one can take away. " When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease " is a track on the Roy Harper album HQ, a prominent example of cricket poetry. 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 . BUY NOW PAY LATER with Klarna, available at checkout. Thousands of bells chimed overheadTheir lovely tone shaping my thoughtsSplendid new lands danced in my sightBut with ten thousand bells as my guideI would never be lost. Today, the road all runners come,Shoulder-high we bring you home,And set you at your threshold down,Townsman of a stiller town. 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. Your ship is anchored in Gods Harbour.And your ship mates, now of equal rank.Are mustered on the deck to greet.And Pipe as you ascend the Plank. Monopolyseemed like a treacherous merry-go-round.He wanted to charge no rent,disperse property equally(having been taught to share),end the game, and go drinkhot cocoa unaware a monopolycontrolled the cocoa market. But now their time on earth is doneAnd we gather to say goodbyeWell remember them very fondlyAs we look up at the night sky. 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.
Cricket And Poetry: A History | All Out Cricket | Culture Special - Wisden Were many in number but we ride as one, With the pavement beneath us and our face in the sun.With the wind at our backs and our gear all on, We ride in remembrance of those who have passed on. The LORD is my caddie; I shall not whiff.He maketh me to drive straight down green fairways:He leadeth me over the still waters.He restoreth my swing:He leadeth me in the paths of truthfulness for the games sake.Yea, though I pitch through the valley of the shadow of the woods,I will fear no bunkers: for thou art with me;Thy wedge and thy putter they comfort me.Thou preparest a line before me in the presence of mind hazards:Thou anointest my stroke with confidence;the cup will not be runneth over.Surely birdies and eagles shall follow me all the rounds of my life:and I will dwell in the clubhouse of the LORD for ever. Dad was an avid cricket fan and we wanted something appropriate for him to read. The first candle represents our grief. Her pitiless blue sky,When, sick at heart, around us we see the cattle die But then the grey clouds gather, and we can bless againThe drumming of an army, the steady soaking rain. 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. Remember with every stitchAnd every knot tiedLook how youve all grownTogether where we call home. A faith few possess led your journey through life, often a jagged and stony way,The sun is setting, the cattle are all bedded, and here now is the end of your day. Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance, fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignorance ofdark, cold caves. Dont curse me, for I have done you no wrong.I only want the acceptance I have needed for so long. Did you say 'over'? I can talk as we rollAnd I know that a soulMust lurk in thy wonderful frameA spiritual essenceSome far hidden presenceSome genius of magical fame. And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. This cord does its work right from the startit binds us together attached to my heartI know that its there though no one can seethe invisible cord from my child to me. 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. There is an old belief that the stars shining in the night sky are the spirits of those who have died.They have shed their earthly bodies and exchanged them for bodies made of light;thousands upon thousands of our dear departed friends all promoted to glory in the night sky.There is another saying that the brightest flame burns the shortest. She wore her earringsLike a queenWith regal graceAnd a silent dignityThat only a womanWho knows who she isCan possess. Whenever Im upset I know yourethere with a shoulder to cry on.Whenever I face a problem and need some helpI know you are one I can rely on. He may be reserved in his manner and speech,And hide the fine graces of which pedants preach;But he is kind and sincere when his heart you once reach,For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. He wanted someone to hold usAnd show respect for others.He wanted someone whod be gentle,So he created mothers. I cant say goodbye.I cant acceptYour death.You will live in my heartForeverUntil my last breath. So dance beyond those golden gates,And join your loving mum.Ill see you when Im sleeping,And pray for you to come. My three sons I married right,And their sons I rocked at night;Death nor sorrow never broughtCause for one unhappy thought. I do not ask you for your tears,For I am free, my suffering past.Remember all the times we laughed,And when you find that happy place,Let a smile light up your face. Oh dear, if youre reading this right now,I must have given up the ghost.I hope you can forgive me for beingSuch a stiff and unwelcoming host. 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. Ineffective? You radiate warmth like a blazing fire.You are courage and wisdom. I see now it was love, MumThat made you come whenever Id call,Your inexhaustible love, MumAnd I thank you for it all. I hope youre dancing in the skyAnd I hope youre singing in the angels choirAnd I hope the angels know what they haveIll bet its so nice up in heaven since you arrivedI hope you are dancing in the sky. 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. There was once a master carpenter and he lived a good lifefor he loved to work, building things of wood.He was loved by his family,by his sons and his daughter,and especially by his wife.He was loved by everyone who knew him. It broke our hearts to lose you,You did not go alone,For part of us went with you,the day God called you home. "Alive" by Winifred Mary Letts. Remember how we made our special dateSame day of the week and at the same placeBehaving like young teenagers we wereTho wed been married many a year. Once it was new, best thing on the road,But now its just old; so whos driving this car? Love Is Like A Game Of Cards Titia Geertman A verse comparing card games to love and life. Never to kill. To the pearly gates of Heaven, where they will usher you in. 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. Triumphantly their bodies sing,Their eyes are blindWith music. Publication date 1905 Publisher London : Simpkin Collection cdl; americana Digitizing sponsor MSN Contributor University of California Libraries Language English. Beer Is Just Fine Roy Pett A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer.The Beer Prayer anon A beer-infused version of the Lords Prayer.A Drinking Song W. B. Yeats a short verse pondering over the role of wine and love in life.Fortifying The Spirits Michael Ashby A humorous poem perfect for someone who liked a drink or two.The Lost Drink Banjo Paterson An ode to a once-in-a-lifetime drink concoction that was never found again. 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? I have included poems for mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives and children. So darling please tend to the candle for meAnd nourish the flame lest it diesTill the day when its radiant beauty I seeAnd it guides me at last to your side. And although this pain is painful,And I really dont wanna let you go.Ill wait for death to take me Nan,So we can together one day glow. Its been a long time since we first felt the beginning to this end.And today we pray before you; your family and your friends.Weve watched your thoughts get more obscure with every passing day;As this heartless thing called Alzheimers made them fade away.Gradually it took the gleam from those once so loving eyes.To befall on such a giving manit seemed so unjustified.Stripping you of everything, leaving nothing in its placeExcept a look of sadness left upon your face.As long as we have searched, through all the tears weve criedWeve tried to find the reason for this long good-bye.But now its time to take back all your memoriesAs you are finally free from this cruel disease.We pledge to remember the man that you once were;A good hearted, giving man is all that will be heard.And every night when we look up and see a certain starWe will know within our hearts exactly where you are.So on this day we say good-bye as you now depart.Although far from our touch, never far from our hearts. We would all sit at the tableEveryone in their placeThere were never any surprisesWe recognised every face. It's the life in your years." J.G. I've picked 10 of my favourite funeral verses including a special funeral poem for a Dad. what day does pilot flying j pay; western power distribution. Old Father Time, I pray to youThat clouds give it a rest,And that I get a game today,And that I play my best. I chose a twinkling star in the sky at night ,To say a prayer for you to its bright light.Youre in Gods Heavens now and no longer in pain,In my thoughts, youll always remain. For you may findWhen you clear the hilly topThat the brakes of life may seizeAnd take you to a messy stop. And yet the cares are manyand the hours of toil are few;There is not time enough on earthfor all Id like to do;But, having lived and having toiled,Id like the world to findSome little touch of beautythat my soul had left behind. I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.To the gulls way and the whales way where the winds like whetted knife:And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long tricks over. city of san diego street classification map; blackrock russell 2000 index fund g1; 3610 atlantic ave, long beach, ca 90807; eternal water heater lawsuit; A series of fortunate events July 20, 2020. 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. But now my life is over; its time to say farewell,But dont forget my fossils and the stories they do tell,The stories of our history, a glimpse into the pastThey serve as a reminder of what time has amassed. That is all.She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.Her diminished size is in me, not in her.And just at the moment when someone at my side says, There, she is gone! there are other eyes watching her coming, and there are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, Here she comes!And that is dying. I am a creator of ideas,Swimming in a sparkling sea of imagination, A magician of sorts, turning thoughts of wondermentinto pieces of originality, Each creation showcasesMy own personal journey, My worries, dreams and ambitionsEverything Ive loved, and everything I feared, All that I was yesterday and all that I could have beenIs neatly contained in my glorious creations, When you glance over my work, you are catchingA glimpse of my soul for a part of me in each piece I have created, I marched to my own beat and wildly danced to my own rhythmPassion ran through my veins as emotions were the fuel for my craft, Certain pieces I protected and kept to myself,but you will see them now along with the others I shared with the world, I was a creative beacon, shining my light brightlyFor all the universe to see, I was all these things and moreRolled into one unique and talented artist. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. Time flies like an arrow .. fruit flies like a banana. 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. Lyrics from google.
25 Beautiful Non-Religious Funeral Readings from Literature - Stylist Well see your smile in every rayOf sunshine after rainAnd hear the of echo of your laughterOver all the pain. The feet of dancersShine with mirth,Their hearts are vibrant as bells: The air flows by themDivided like waterCut by a gleaming ship. Have you checked the smoke detectors? When I speak your name,It brings back memoriesOf you dancing for joyOr maybe playing with a toy. 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. Amazed, I watch the tiny gymnasts all,While praying, as they flip, that none will fall. I must be off to the links again,For the call of the fairways wideIs a loud call, and a clear callThat cannot be denied.It fills me with a mad desire to realiseMy dreams of tee-shots long,And irons strongTo the heart of all the greens. He seemed to cast off weight and gravityAs if he were no more than a spiritWhose substance was its own agility. The stark white ring-barked forests, all tragic to the moon,The sapphire-misted mountains, the hot gold hush of noon,Green tangle of the brushes where lithe lianas coil,And orchids deck the tree-tops, and ferns the warm dark soil. cricket poems for funerals. When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken. In our hearts there is a placeThat only you can hold;Filled with loving memoriesMore precious than gold. Author Unknown; adapted from the original by Lord Byron. IM driving this thing, and this car is ME,And its all worn out, but I made it work.