The Cricket Field Fortunate indeed this field; It's destiny is not to yield A harvest made with wheat and corn From rutting plough or harrow born, But cleared of lump & stump & thicket Is set aside for playing cricket. I am standing upon the seashore.A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.She is an object of beauty and strength.I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloudjust where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.Then someone at my side says, There, she is gone.Gone where?Gone from my sight. Then gracefully his arm went outHe knew how he would bowl itWrong bias there!, then came the shoutWouldnt ya bloody know it!Here is a little message Make it a golden rule Always check your biasAnd you wont be a fool! Add languages. 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. In Hide and Seek, he let the othersstay hidden, content to enjoythe solitude. You were the jewel in our heartsYou were loved in every way.Now youre gone, youre truly missedeach and every day. But all the feelings that are nowSo vivid and so realCant hold their fresh intensityAs time begins to heal. If your heart is heavy nowbecause Ive gone away,Dwell not long upon it friend;For none of us can stay.Those of you who liked me,I sincerely thank you allAnd those of you who loved me,I thank you most of all. Id like to remember all those times I hit the mark,Or when, as a friend, I was a light in the dark.Id like to recall all the times Id always be there,Despite sometimes arriving with just moments to spare. Your memory will not fade awayTo muted tones of black and white. Michael Ashby A fun, slightly religious poem with plenty of bingo terminology within.Numbers Up Rebecca Spilsbury A wonderfully moving poem urging the bereaved to live on proudly.Prayer For Bingo Players Bob Barci A fun prayer asking for the perfect conditions for a bingo night.Twenty-Four Numbers anon A poem about the joys of bingo. There . So, our sweetYoull never be goneCause your laughter and loveWill always shine through. write me in historymove over King Tutyou aint got nothingon the legitimate King! The world is always peaceful,As I sit and drink my tea.Im grateful for these simple moments,Of pure tranquility. I have always neededthe solace of storiesthe companionship of charactersthe escape of other worldsthe wisdom of wordsthe guidance of good writing. I dont know when it started,Or how it all began,But God created families,As only our Lord can. Anyone have any other suggestions? This fourth rose is for our love.We enjoy beauty and its presence,Continuing to guide and lead us.Regardless of the seasons of our lives,Our love for you will continue. Margaret Thatchers ashes are to be interred at the Royal Chelsea Hospital. A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip There is a glorious fellowship!Father and son and the open skyAnd the white clouds lazily drifting by,And the laughing stream as it runs alongWith the clicking reel like a martial song,And the father teaching the youngster gayHow to land a fish in the sportsmans way. I have not lost the magic of long days,I live them, dream them stillStill I am a master of the starry ways,And freeman of the hills;Shattered my glass, ere half the sands had run.I hold the heights, I hold the heights, I won. Poems perfect for amateur and professional sailors, or simply someone who loved all things boat. Last scene of all,That ends this strange eventful history,Is second childishness and mere oblivion;Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. It made me laugh, it made me cry.Im unable to explain Ive never known such happinessI did not foresee the pain. For though from out our bourn of Time and PlaceThe flood may bear me far,I hope to see my Pilot face to faceWhen I have crossed the bar. A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam, and for abrief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world:but then it flies again. I picture you in every placeAmong the trees and waters blueAnd every time it comes to mindIm grateful I had you. How could such blazing colour leave? Farewell to Middle-earth at last.I see the Star above my mast! Well always rememberthat special smile,that caring heart,that warm embrace,you always gave us.You being therefor Grandma and usthrough good and bad times,no matter what.Well always rememberyou Grampa becausetherell never be another oneto replace you in our hearts,and the love we will alwayshave for you. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. Sometimes we do the rumba,a foxtrot or a jive,as we dance through our life,each and every day. You can click on a topic of interest, and youll then find a collection of readings on that topic and a short summary of each, and you can click or scroll again to be taken to the full text. If I could be there with you, wed laugh and share memories from our past,And this gathering would be just one more tale, another story, not our last.But today I cant be with you, except in heart and memory stores.So, youll have to laugh, remember the past,and then let your engines roar! As long as they hold true,the night cannot win. My partners a dope and Im losing all hope.And when s/he says double I know were in trouble.My points are not high and Im wondering whyS/he kept on bidding right up to the sky. 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. the christ hospital human resources. Some light up rooms with their laughterOthers brighten the world with a smile.Many will make you feel happyBy sitting nearby for a while. 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. The fences have all been mended. White wings will carry you and you will be flown. Villanelle Of Spring BellsBells in the town alight with springconverse, with a concordance of new airsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. Grandmas quilts held memories,Of bygone days and years,Of loved ones gathered round the hearth,And tales of joy and cheer. I am a double award-nominated Family and Funeral Celebrant covering the entire UK, and would be happy to help you commemorate in a meaningful and personal way. You are a breath of fresh air on a hot summers night.When there is darkness, you turn on the light. Near a shady wall a rose once grew,Budded and blossomed in Gods free light,Watered and fed by the morning dew,Shedding its sweetness day and night.As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,Slowly rising to loftier height,It came to a crevice in the wallThrough which there shone a beam of light.Onward it crept with added strengthWith never a thought of fear or pride,It followed the light through the crevices lengthAnd unfolded itself on the other side.The light, the dew, the broadening viewWere found the same as they were before,And it lost itself in beauties new,Breathing its fragrance more and more.Shall claim of death cause us to grieveAnd make our courage faint and fall?Nay! Poems about losing a child, especially at a young age. We pull out the chairs for whomever dares,The drinks and munchies set to spare,We argue over who will sit and where,And who will interpret the rules in despair. Dont give up, though the pace seems slowYou may succeed with your next blow.Success is failure turned inside outIts the difference between faith and doubtYou may be close, though it seems so farIts hard to tell how close you areSo stick to the flight when youre hard hitIts when things seem their worst,That you must not quit. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. The ancients etched the wordsfor battle and victory onto their shields and then they went out. We think of you as yesterday,When you were fit and well.And when were asked about you,Its those things that well tell. The earth provides the musicTo set your spirit freeYou only need to trust yourselfFly! Publication date 1905 Publisher London : Simpkin Collection cdl; americana Digitizing sponsor MSN Contributor University of California Libraries Language English. E ven in my darkest hours, you were always there for me. Rejoice now in the knowledgeReturned to you this dayYouve always had the powerTo simply fly away. But, even in death, Harold Pinter made sure his final farewell was as carefully and poetically orchestrated as his life's. But I am a man who loves his jobAnd the life I live. Perfect for him: right field inbaseball, an eccentrics positionthough he thought of drifting into otherfields beyond. Their greatest nemesis and saviour,are known simply as brakes.In order to pass,they wait for mistakes. give me the flavourof butterscotch and vanillawith a little chocolateplease and thank you. 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. At PoemSearcher.com find thousands of poems categorized into thousands of categories. That you are herethat life exists and identity,That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. I know how much it hurt your soulWhen we had to say goodbyeBut Im not gone, Im always hereI am your butterfly. Between the wars, cricket became part of the jolly furniture of upper-class country life. Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broomsBalancing up on his nose, and the plate whirlsOn the tip of the broom! I Hold The Heights Geoffrey Winthrop Young An abridged version of the original which basks in the glory of hiking.Im Climbing A Mountain Andrew Blakemore An uplifting poem about the sights and sounds of a climb.So Well Go No More A-Climbing anon An adaptation of Lord Byrons original; a lament to a climbing partner. Its not the square footage of your houseor what you keep inside.Theres no material you possessthat proves success in life. When I speak your name,It brings back memoriesOf you dancing for joyOr maybe playing with a toy. And I believe my voice will soundUpon the whispering windSo long as even one remainsAmong those I call friend.. So please bear with us, dear audienceAnd act your part as well:We salute a thespian titanWho had such a good life to tell. Analysis,Subject Summarisation And Explanation : 'On Tingling Catch: An interview with cricket poet Nick Whittock, Tingling Catch: Bill OReillys 1946 NZ cricket. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. Although I didnt understandI still told everyoneWith a love thats undeniedId say That is my son. anon A poem wondering whether one has done productive or destructive deeds in life. Kayaking Mark Gregory A poem about the peace and calm that one experiences on the water.The Oarsmans Song Steve Fairbairn A rhythmic poem about the hypnotic motion of a rower in full flight.Rowing In Eden Mark Gregory A short but touching poem about two friends drifting towards heaven. Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. And those tear-arse young drivers who must overtakeThen go at speeds lower than I want to make.No tail-gating for me, and I dont use my horn,But I heartily wish that theyd never been bornAnd I see Hades open to eat car or van;That did it, because Im a grumpy old man. As I grew older so did he,But that man was always there for meHis love, unspoken, but strong and clear,Of that, I have no doubt or fear. Well take the time togetherTo catch up on the pastTo build a new beginningOne that will always last. These are my footprints, so perfect and so small.These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings.These tiny footprints were meant for other things.You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain.Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies lazy dance.Ill let you know Im with you, if you give me just a chance.You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves.I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mummys heart,cause even though Im gone now, well never truly part. When We Lose a Loved One When we lose a loved one Our world just falls apart We think that we cant carry on With this broken heart Everything is different now You're upset and you're annoyed Your world it seems is shattered There's such an awful void Dementia came and took you away,From your family and your friends.It left your mind in turmoil,Until the very end. He cannot help but have death on his mind. Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. I go apoplectic to hear people say:Awesome and Wicked and Have a nice day!The poor English language is brought to its kneesAnd falls prostrate and screaming with phrases like these:They should be wrapped up neatly and flushed down the panBut nobody heeds me: a grumpy old man, At my death just cremate me; Im hoping to saveSomebody the labour of digging my grave.Set my ashes in concrete and on the urn writeHeres a rebel whose aim was to put the world right!He failed but what better memorial thanA farewell salute to a grumpy old man. 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. Without any doubt or fearmy favourite drink is surely beer,anything from pale, to brown alein fact any beer thats on sale,never halves, only pints or largerstout, bitter, smooth or golden lager,wonderful taste of malt and hopsproduced from ripe natural crops,must be drunk cold never warmdrinking good beer will do no harm,beer surely doesnt cause a beer bellydrink too much makes you very silly,you can keep your spirits and winea good pint of beer to me is just fine,beer is drunk north, south, east and westevery country thinks their beers the best. 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. Our memories build a special bridgeWhen loved ones have to partTo help us feel were with them stillAnd soothe a grieving heart.They span the years and warm our livesPreserving ties that bind;Our memories build a special bridgeAnd bring us peace of mind. Poems for those who loved building and rebuilding marvellous creations with those famous little bricks. Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not madeBy singing:Oh, how beautiful! and sitting in the shade,While better men than we go out and start their working livesAt grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives. Now Grandmas gone to heaven,But her quilts will long remain,Their beauty and their warmth live on,A comforting, loving refrain. Sunset and evening star,And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,When I put out to sea. My toes may bleedAnd my knees, grow weakBut Ill never stop dancingNot until I reach my peak. 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. For a deeply private man it was a brief and intensely private funeral. These funeral poems and readings are reflective and comforting. Poems encouraging us to think positively in the face of death. He noted that first came the date of birthAnd spoke the following date with tears,But he said what mattered most of allWas the dash between those years. Knit one purl one, knit one purl oneThe band was almost doneThe soft sound of the needles clickety clackFinish one row, turn around and go back. Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of Chatham. But in my heart you will be,moving forward, you with me. (New annually renewing membership only. Rest now my fallen brotherLay soft your suffering backRest well and foreverYour memory shall not lackRest your tired handsWipe clean your weary browRest with St. FlorianYour spirit now endowedRest here your breaking heartWe know you gave your allRest easy, youve done your partYouve answered your last callRest knowing that in god we soughtOh lord, watch over another who just fellRest assured your troubled thoughtAs we ring the final bell. Through our tears we look upwards to see [person] watching over us. 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. Ill see you next week! Youve also got some sweeties.Isnt Nana kind?I may have stolen one or two,But I knew you wouldnt mind. I pray that once Ive donned my padsAnd walked out to the square,That none of my nicks find a palm,And that I score my share. Land of the rainbow gold,For flood and fire and famine she pays us back threefold.Over the thirsty paddocks, watch, after many days,The filmy veil of greenness that thickens as we gaze. Cried and yelled at the moonand crushed nightmaresDrank together and helped each otherback to bed. 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. And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. Today, the road all runners come,Shoulder-high we bring you home,And set you at your threshold down,Townsman of a stiller town. cricket poems for funerals. Mum would cook our dinnerDad came home at fiveWe were all sitting at the tableWaiting for him to arrive. I juggle through the hours, and make them all my own,Through morn and eve and noon, I set a juggling tone,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. Poems for those who enjoyed the challenges of rock climbing, hiking, and fell-walking. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea; And the hunter home from the hill. The second candle represents the courage to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives. Brothers Steve Mason A poem contemplating the unique bond of trust and loyalty that brothers share.For My Brother Shelly Domenici A touching tribute to a brother gone too soon.Memories Tamarah M. Olsen A poem reflecting upon the fond memories shared with a brother.My Brother anon A poem reflecting the many ups and downs of a relationship with a brother. With every punch and every hitIt demonstrates its strength and skillIts resilience, its steel and gritIts honour, courage, and will. Some Folk Pam Nelson A poem reflecting on how a person made everyone around them feel special and loved. and play the game!") mourned the tragedy of war through the metaphor of schoolboy cricket and he came to resent the poem's use in propaganda . Rev. I will still keep you withinFreedom is importantThe wild roar of your heartis not for me anymoreI am allowing you to make your next journey. The sky became your deep blue seaThe clouds became your shoreAnd there, for all eternityYou sat with friends galore. Given that Mr Ashley has a tight hold on the purse strings the future looks grim. 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. Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. Use code HELLO54 when you join us as a print or digital member and your membership will be half price for the first year. When great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety. You took a piece of me with you the day you left,leaving me unable to catch my breath. Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. I know now you are with meI feel your caressIll go on living for you,I could do nothing less. For it matters not, how much we own,The cars, the house, the cash;What matters is how we live and loveAnd how we spend our dash. Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend and the bike leans with me. A keen Bridge player from ChardFound losing so terribly hardImagine how she feltWhen she saw shed been dealtThree jokers and a bridge scoring card? I have to goagaineven thoughIve just come backeven ifIm covered in bloodblood all over meeverywherethat no one bothersto wipe offand yet they call mestillthe crowd cheersthe ref is impatientmy opponent awaits meI feel deadenedevery voice is far awayand yet I hearI knowthat this is the momentthat I have to goits my jobat first I liked itI couldnt stopit was my lifenow no longerIm exhaustedworn outIm in pieceshow longcan my body last?how many of those punchescan it take?night is fallingI feel itfalling quicklyon memy powers weakendeath will comeand bethe fatal woundfor methe final defeat.