Dark depths of the ocean:A world unknown to the human race,Careful of every motionSo as not to disturb this place.Colours you have never seen before;Fish that can fit in the palm of your hand;Plants covering most of the ocean floor;All that is left is sparkling white sand.Staring in awe, as an outsider looking in,This world is perfect it seems Wishing I would never leave this intriguing island;Maybe I will visit it again in my dreams. 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. Also the late, great Peter Tinniswood wrote a fantastic pair of books called "tales from the long room" and "more tales from the long room". She probably carried kindling to stoke the kitchen fire.To hold a load of laundry, or to wipe the clothesline wire.When canning all her vegetables, it was used to wipe her brow.You never know, she might have used it to shoo flies from the cow. Golf tees on my dresserGolf tees in my bedGolf tees on my pillowsWhere they poke me in my head.Golf tees in my closetFalling from my shirts and pantsGolf tees along the baseboardsJust like army ants.Golf tees in the carpetAnd underneath my feetGolf tees lined up on the mantleOh, they look so neat.Golf tees in my couchAnd in my back and thighsWhen I sit and watch TVI feel those little guys.Golf tees in the kitchenIn Jurassic coffee mugsSometimes when I pass themThey look like prehistoric bugs.Golf tees in the bathtubLike sailors on plastic shipsGolf tee in her make upLike little bald q tips.Golf tees in the atticGolf tees in the shedGolf tees, golf tees everywhereI wonder where they bred.Golf tees out the backdoorLike Hansel and Gretels trailsGolf tees in the flowerbedsAmong the mulch and snails.Golf tees in my carAnd underneath the matsGolf tees in the backseatLike little baseball bats.But when I am at the golf courseI ask my partner, like a louseMay I borrow some of your tees?I left mine at the house!, I really am a golfer And let me tell you whyIts only when I swing a club I really feel aliveI really am a golferAnd take my driver outI swing my club and hit the ballAs hard as I have mightI really am a golferMy ball is in the roughI swing my metal 3 real hardTo find the grass is toughI really am a golferMy ball goes 50 feetIts out the rough and in the sandAnd buried very deepI really am a golferI take my sand wedge outI open up the face of itAnd swing it with a cloutI really am a golferMy ball is on the greenI swing the putter in an arcWith boggy on the seenI really am a golferMy put goes 10ft pastIm looking at a doubleBut the green is just too fastI really am a golferThe balls beside the cupI make it in the centreAnd my friends they call it luck, by Criswell Freeman(final verse by Mark Gregory), Life is like a round of golf,with many twists and turnsBut the game is much too sweet and short,to curse the shots youve missed, Sometimes youll hit it straight and far,sometimes the puts run trueBut each round has its wayward shots,and troubles to play through, So always swing with heart and courage,no matter what the lieAnd never let the hazardsdestroy the joy inside. An opal-hearted country, a wilful, lavish land All you who have not loved her, you will not understand Though earth holds many splendours, wherever I may die,I know to what brown country my homing thoughts will fly. So rude, mocking and defiant, And on you, still so reliant, You are there to fulfil their every need, Were so proud of their successes, And forgive their many messes, The writings on the wall but they wont read. I will miss youOh so much.So will allThe lives thatYou haveTouched. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. Alone on my tin pony,to the heavens Ive been called,but fret not my dear loved ones,Im not lonely here at all. And we must play on. Toggle navigation Poem Searcher Discovery Engine 7,226 categories 345276 poems No more a watch to stand, Old Sailor.For you are drifting on an ebbing tide.Eight Bells has rung. Im all the jobs rolled into one:Host, therapist, friend.I give the people what they want;Im basically a godsend. Her expertise is such thatI just really cant compare it,But best of all is when shes done,Then I will get to wear it! When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. And then I thought, I am a partof all this, and I felta great happiness,and I opened the book againand began to read. I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth; I knew not where.For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight. A free bird leapson the back of the windand floats downstreamtill the current endsand dips his wingin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? As kids, we lived togetherWe fought, we laughed, we cried.We did not always show the love,that we both had inside.We shared our dreams and plans,and some secrets too.All the memories we share,Is what bonds me now to you.We grew to find we have a lovethat is very strong today.Its a love shared by our family,that will never fade away.You are my brother not by choice,but by the nature of our birthI could not have chosen a better oneyou were the best on earth. She is a gymnast, a true athlete,Her talent and grace on display,She inspires us all with strength and skill,In this, her chosen way. Always Been A Reader Mark Gregory A poem about the qualities of books and how they will endure after death.The Last Book Mark Gregory A poem about the miracle of life and being a part of it, even just for a while.The Library Mark Gregory A lovely poem about the magic of libraries, perfect for someone who worked in them.Roads Go Ever On J. R. R. Tolkien The classic from Tolkiens Lord of the Rings, perfect for a book-lover.Sitting In An Armchair Mark Gregory A book about a female reader in a chair being transported off to another land.There Is No Frigate Like A Book Emily Dickinson A short poem about how books carry us away to lands unknown. I hope I touched your lives one day,and left a treasured mark,now Ill ride on to forever,with your memory in my heart. Funeral Poems about Flying Free or Letting Go The White Chariot During your journey on your final flight home. My Old Fishing Boat by Isaac McLellan. Charades: Always tempted to saythe answer and stop the nonsense. 6. Id like to sow the barren spotswith all the flowers of earth,To leave a path where those who comeshould find but gentle mirth;And when at last Im called uponto join the heavenly throngId like to feel along my wayId left no sign of wrong. Ive seen them win, lose and draw, rush by in charging blur, Neck and neck, nose to nose, to the photo we refer, The weight is right, the track is fair, the sun will always shine, As once more past the Judges, and I cross that Finish Line. Warm summer sun, Shine kindly here, Warm southern wind, Blow softly here. Unknown We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.That beyond the pain there can be healing.That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.That beyond the anger there may be peace.That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.That beyond the silence there may be the word.That beyond the word there may be understanding.That through understanding there is love. This wretched pain inside of meMy throat, my heart, my now. They move through threatening ghostsFeeling them cool as mistOn their brows. To the feet of your Lord, your Saviour, and your friend. Wine comes in at the mouthAnd love comes in at the eye;Thats all we shall know for truthBefore we grow old and die.I lift the glass to my mouth,I look at you, and I sigh. 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. "A Meeting" by Edith Wharton. The trials and tribulationsThe pain and stress we breatheDont exist where I am goingOnly happiness, I believe. He cannot help but have death on his mind. Sun will warm the daylight hours;The lighthouse illume the night.Waves provide rhythm and gulls give voice Music to ease my flight. por | Jun 14, 2022 | considera la reazione di decomposizione del perossido di idrogeno | how to make a braided rug lay flat | Jun 14, 2022 | considera la reazione di decomposizione del perossido di idrogeno | how to make a braided rug lay flat The world needs you.Believe me, its true!Some things need doingThat only you can do. So, when your eulogy is being readWith your lifes actions to rehash,Would you be proud of the things they sayAbout how you spent YOUR dash? We have but a short timeOn this earth,So value your lifeFor what its really worth. Anyone have any other suggestions? Given that Mr Ashley has a tight hold on the purse strings the future looks grim. 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. Guided by the Lonely Star,beyond the utmost harbour-bar,Ill find the heavens fair and free,and beaches of the Starlit Sea.Ship, my ship! Ive seen fire and Ive seen rainIve been through a desert on a horse with no name, Ive gone to Kansas City, I sang in the sunshineIve been on the road again, with Georgia on my mind, Like a rolling stone, Ive given peace a chanceIve put a camel to bed and danced the last dance, Mr Tambourine Man played a song for meIve whispered words of wisdom, let it be, Ive fallen into a burning ring of fire and walked the lineTo all the girls Ive loved before, you were always on my mind, Ive been everywhere, Ive been so lonesome I could cryIve driven my Chevy to the levee when the levee was dry, Ive been to Itchy Coo Park in a yellow submarineIve made the scene in a time machine, Ive done the Hokey Pokey and turned myself aroundIve welcomed baby back to the poor side of town, Ive followed the tracks of my tears down a long and winding roadIve kept on searching for a heart of gold, Ive sought shelter from the storm, Ive sat on the dock of the bayIve rocked around the clock, on a sunshiny day, Ive knocked on Heavens door, while blowing in the windJoy to the world those were the days my friend. The ceremony is conducted by a humanist celebrantand it is both a celebration of a life and a dignified, personal farewell. Heaven has received another angel,The night sky another star.Your life has become a loving memory.I know you will never be far. Poems reflecting a passion for spending nights under the stars. But the greatest of the treasuresThat old apron could ever holdWas the endless love from MotherAbiding in each fold. 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. Above all, Father Time, I prayWhen all is said and done,That we can all look back and sayBy eck, that game was fun!, by the players of East Leeds Cricket Club. Their love for film was boundlessAnd theyd watch them one by oneFrom the classics to the newest hitsTheir passion was second to none. I imagine you laughingYour heart lovingly set freeYou understand my griefIn ways I cannot see. But now youre gonebut yet youre hereWell sense you everywhere.You are our sorrow and our joy,Theres love in every tear. Bury Me In Lycra! 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. 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. See more ideas about grief quotes, grieving quotes, cowboy prayer. 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! Heaven by Rupert Brooke. William Shakespeare. Just one last effort, I pass the line.Was I first, was I last? The earth was made so sweet,The sky so fair,For man to cultivateAnd love and wear.But we, alas! You raised a fine family, worked the land well and always followed the Son,Hang up your shovel inside of the barn; your work here on earth is done. After reading it, I sat downin the garden and looked aroundat the green grass and the spikyflowers and the white cloudsriding high, and I thought,Its all a miracle. If the juggler is tired now, if the broom standsIn the dust again, if the table starts to dropThrough the daily dark again, and though the plateLies flat on the table top,For him we batter our handsWho has won for once over the worlds weight. Iron horses, hundreds strong,Come thundring through the gate;Sleeping souls on notice, fallenBiker nears his fate. One more day to sing our song, Close To You,and listen to you sing it to your son too. Little rattle of dry seeds in pods, The warm crowd . Do not lose your patience with me,Do not scold or curse or cry.I cant help the way Im acting,Cant be different, though I try. One is MS Dhoni and the other are the all others. Similar . The poems on this page are suitable for any loved one. Board Games Lou Szymkow An atmospheric poem detailing the memories we all have of family board gaming days.A Game Of Life Frank Preston Stearns A old-fashioned yet moving sonnet comparing chess to life. Go after your dreams.Be bold. Margaret Thatchers ashes are to be interred at the Royal Chelsea Hospital. Though your heart wont let the sadnessSimply slide awayThe echoes will diminishEven though the memories stay. Brothers to the left of meSisters to the rightThats the way we ate dinnerEvery single night. Can't help with any specific reference, but Simon Barnes of the Times is a superb writer on any sport, and is always excellent on cricket (Google may help you here). Only for those of a special breed,Living a dream, a chance to succeed,Yesterdays hopes and desires coming true,Making your mark with records anew,Proving hard work and the daily grind,Instructing the body, conditioning the mindCan capture a medal for the whole world to see, withGlamour and Pride for your country.As you stand aloft and your flag is flown high, theresMemories forever, and a tear in your eye,Enjoying the moment, the admiring looks,Securing your name in the history books. And now that man has left this life,No longer parted from his wifeMemories are all that we have leftOf that man who was the best. But a heaven is easier made of nothing at allThan the earth regained, and still and sole withinThe spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and nobleHe reels that heaven in,Landing it ball by ball,And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table. All The Worlds A Stage William Shakespeare A verse which summarises the whole span of human life in a few lines.The Last Call Michael Ashby A short verse originally dedicated to Richard Briers.Our Revels Now Are Ended William Shakespeare An extract from The Tempest by one of the greats. The song captures the atmosphere of a village cricket match and is an elegy to the game as played during Harper's youth. 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. The bingo caller shouts out loud and clearThat number you have been waiting to hear!You rise to your feet and shout out loud:BINGO! And then I thought, Everythingis a miracle, even the toadthat lives under the lilac bush,even the nasty-tempered robinthat steals the food from the other birds,even the little lump of claythat I, in my clumsy way,will shape into a potto hold some wildflowers,even the windthat scatters the leaves and the seedsand the tiny pebbles, eventhe rain that falls, even the sunthat makes everything grow. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. We little knew that morning,God was going to call your name.In life we loved your dearly,In death we do the same. 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. We think about the fleeting yearsToo quickly, gone for goodIt seems like only yesterday;We would go back if we could. Come gather here,Be at your ease,To say this last goodbye.Not to this shell before you,But to a life passed by. With every punch and every hitIt demonstrates its strength and skillIts resilience, its steel and gritIts honour, courage, and will. My toes may bleedAnd my knees, grow weakBut Ill never stop dancingNot until I reach my peak. There are candles in the night,flickering souls fighting back the dark:these are the angels of the abyss,holding back the blackness that consumes us. 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. I loved when that engine rumbled,And the biker friends who rode with me, would help me when I stumbled.You are amongst my dearest friends, brothers and sisters of the road,Weve travelled many miles together, shared many heavy loads.
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