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. I do not think my song will endWhile flowers, grass and treesAbound with birds and butterfliesFor I am one with these. The Clock Of Life Robert H. Smith A short verse reflecting upon the inevitability of time passing.My Grandfathers Clock Henry Clay Work The classic childrens song in its entirety.Stop All The Clocks W. H. Auden A poem demanding that the whole world stop to mourn the passing of a loved one. Im climbing a mountainI feel the cool breeze on my face,And the suns beating downIm forever at home in this place. 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. For forty years Ive lived with God,Oft from the haunts of men.Ive thought upon His wondrous wordAnd scenes beyond our ken. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? My little girl has gone,but to her little boy I will continue to sing our song. A Legacy Of Stitches Sandra E. Andersen A poem highlighting what is left behind when a skilled knitter dies.Clickety Clack Robyn OConnell A poem lauding the knitted creations that the deceased made.Rows Of Stitches Ilene Bauer A short and humorous poem about the excitement of watching someone knit.Silent Needles Jacqui Alexander A lovely rhythmic poem about the creations of a knitter.With Tender Loving Care Pam Braden A touching poem about the comfort a knitted item brings. Candles In The Night Peter Madden A poem about light fighting against darkness.Five Candles Sherry L. Williams A poem that can be used during a candle-lighting ritual to remember the deceased.I Light A Candle For You anon A poem in free verse about the symbolism of a candle and what it can represent.I Still Burn Bright anon A short verse reminding us that the flame of our loved ones burns bright, even after death. But Im giving up bridge Tonights my last night. 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? Then there are the moves;Always limited,restricted by the fear of capture, of failure,there are only so many times we can move sideways,move forwards,before we feel the fear of being too far out, too vulnerable. It wasnt easy watching youOf that I wont denyAnd Im not ashamed to sayThat there were times I cried. Ring out the want, the care, the sin,The faithless coldness of the times;Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymesBut ring the fuller minstrel in. T he one person I could always take my troubles to. Which organisations allow you to scatter? I have always neededthe solace of storiesthe companionship of charactersthe escape of other worldsthe wisdom of wordsthe guidance of good writing. cricket poems for funerals. She might have carried eggs in from the chicken coop outside.Whatever chore she used it for, she did them all with pride.When Grandma went to heaven, God said she now could rest.Im sure the apron that she chose, was her Sunday best. Camping Kaitlyn DeMatteo A short verse contemplating the wonders of camping out under the stars.I Feel You Drifting Darren White A moving, heartfelt verse written by a partner to their lost lover.This Journey Is Just Beginning Ju D. G. A lament upon having to part, but hopeful of what might be to come. Poems for those who had plenty of furry and feathered friends. 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 day you will all forgive meOne day you will understandAnd when your time on earth is doneI will be waiting to take your hand. O Magic wheel of burnished steelHow part of myself thou art.As we roll alongMid the hurrying throngThat peoples the busy mart. If the world were full of hippiesthered be nothing left to proveexcept peace and understandingand a little bit of groove, No-one would be homelessLike many live todayWed build beautiful communeswhere anyone could stay, Together wed make musicto the beat of mother earththered be no fighting or warEveryone sharing equal worth, Wed grow our own vegetables and create trinkets to sellWed open up our mindsbreak free from our shell, Every colour and every racewould teach one anotherwed become a united familyevery sister, every brother, Wed bless all gods creaturesshow respect for the landGive free hugs to everyoneopenminded to understand. 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. 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. Each time we see a little cloudOr a rainbow soaring highWell think of you and gentlyWipe a tear from our eye. He held up a golden crown,as my darling mother looked on.He said in His gentle voice,I will now explain each one., The first gem, He said, is a Ruby,and its for endurance alone,for all the nights you waited upfor your children to come home., For all the nights by their bedside,you stayed till the fever went down.For nursing every little wound,I add this ruby to your crown., An emerald, Ill place by the ruby,for leading your child in the right way.For teaching them the lessons,That made them who they are today., For always being right there,through all lifes important events.I give you a sapphire stone,for the time and love you spent.. When I speak your name,It still brings music to my ears,And I can still see your smileAs if heaven is so near. " When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease " is a track on the Roy Harper album HQ, a prominent example of cricket poetry. If we could just slow down enoughTo consider whats true and realAnd always try to understandThe way other people feel. 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. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.I give a share of my soul to the world where my course is run.I know that another shall finish the task I must leave undone.I know that no flower, nor flint was in vain on the path I trod.As one looks on a face through a window, through life, I have looked on God. He selects the wood very carefullyThe grain and the colour so beautifullyLooking along the edge its straightAnd feeling it, it has a good weight, Remember to measure twice and cut onceIs the rule of thumb before you pounceHe knows the work and the craftsmans toolsAs he saws, planes and sands to carpenters rules, The joints are a woodworkers art and a pleasure to seeWhen glued together strong and straight it will beThe last piece of the carpenters work is at handTo finish is to wax the wood for a look thats grand. I dont know how to make it through this,when all I want is to call it quits. Here lies a man who loved the game,Of knights and bishops, pawns and rooks,He spent his days in quiet thought,Wondering which piece should be took. When my bowling ball reaches the end of the alleyI hope for a strike.And when my life culminates in a dramatic finale,Heres what Id like: Id like to look back and not to feel blue;But to know that I rumbled through life straight and true.Id like to laugh at all the times I made your sides split,With moments of hilarity, of humour and of wit. I suppose, one day, I will be dead and go to meet my maker,So have this note set in my hand, there for the undertaker,Dont dress me in a shroud of white or rouge my cheeks all red,It is not right, to look a fright, een though youre stone cold dead.Give me a brand new five pound note and a Visa credit card,I want to buy a proper plot in old St Peters yard,And as I sit upon my cloud and look down at the earth,Ill watch you use my worldly goods for festival and mirth,And that will make me smile a smile, and have a laugh quite hearty,To hear you say, the buggers dead, lets have ourselves a party. "Warm Summer Sun" by Walt Whitman. Dont Quit John Greenleaf Whittier An inspirational poem urging those listening not to give up when times are hard.Olympic Games Ken Budden A acrostic poem reflecting on the hard work required to win a medal for your country.Olympic Race Victoria Seale-Constantinou A poem comparing life to an Olympic race, and reflecting upon its end.To An Athlete Dying Young A. E. Houseman A poem reflecting upon the premature death of a sportsman. Please know how many lives you touch.These words are my present. His Mothers Hair April Ossman A poem reminding us that we find reminders of our lost loved ones at any moment.Life As A Hairdresser Amanda Knowles A poem about the ups and downs of working in the hairdressing profession.What Secrets Are Revealed Lynne Howard A poem about the conversations to be had in a hairdressers chair. It was the way he moved that made him seemSo much a part of what he did;In every somersault and cartwheelHe seemed to turn himself to air. Poems for those who suffered from terminal illness in their final years. Some Folk Pam Nelson A poem reflecting on how a person made everyone around them feel special and loved. Poems for those who had a calm aura, or poems for those who seek calmness in death. Is it free like they say?Does the sunshine bright forever?Have your fears and your pain gone away?Cause here on earth it feels likeEverything good is missing since you leftAnd here on earth everythings differentTheres an emptiness. You ran with grace and strength all game,Your footwork swift and sure,Scored goals with ease and utmost grace,Brought joy to all who saw. Poems encouraging us to think positively in the face of death. 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. We have but a short timeOn this earth,So value your lifeFor what its really worth. The members sat in their strong deckchairs, Bingo! It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. *Replace Pemaquid Point with any relevant geographical location. Lord I am pleased to see my Wednesday night friends;We gather in your playroom for a friendly game.Give me the strength to endure the smokers;Let the caller call at a pace that is just right.Dont rush those with manyOr let those with few fall asleep waiting,And may the caller call what I need;If not, may someone in the little group around meLeave tonight with more than they began with. But now youre gonebut yet youre hereWell sense you everywhere.You are our sorrow and our joy,Theres love in every tear. Its grand to be reunitedWith band members both old and newWe start to play it sounds so goodJust perfect like I expected it would. 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! Hegot into competition,but didnt really trust it,and the main games of life allseemed rigged, one wayor another. Warm summer sun, Shine kindly here, Warm southern wind, Blow softly here. 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. And Rest Rev. R est in peace and know I will miss you every day. 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. The Trout Brook by Ralph E. McMillin. So, if youre searching for a poem for a grandmother, scroll down to G or hit Ctrl+F to find grandmother on this page; this can be done for someone who loved cricket, someone who suffered from Alzheimers, someone who brought laughter into everyones lives, or any other topic you can think of. No bails united the forlorn stumpsSince this wicket had fallen some days agoAnd as the bowler delivered to the lone batsmanThe hushed crowd willed a six to go. Poems reflecting a passion and love for cricket. 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. Im stuck in this uncomfortable place of pain that no one can see.I ask God to bring you back as I fall to my knees. Without you, Dad, I wouldnt beThe (wo)man I am today;You built a strong foundationNo one can take away. Come to the beach and remember;Make some footprints of your own,And think of days now absentAnd the memories weve known. If I could fly like a birdtime would slow me downgiving me time to enjoy thepeace that surrounds all around.If I could fly likea bird swift as a lightI know for a factI would love this graceful flight. So set, before its echoes fade,The fleet foot on the sill of shade,And hold to the low lintel upThe still-defended challenge-cup. Neville Cardus is still the gold standard for cricket-related purple prose. Might be some themed words in that that could be used? If thou wouldst win, and not thy fortune rue,Subdue thyself yet to thyself be true. Because your heart was simply gold,What a shame, you werent that old,Gone now for good, not good youve gone,Our memories will linger on. And if the way grows darker still,Shadowed by Sorrows sombre wing,With glad defiance in my throat,I pierce the darkness with a note,And sing, and sing. And now my race had endedSo much I have achievedI loved you all so very muchIt was so hard to leave. You would need to contact the club directly try reception@mcc.org.uk to start with. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. Were in seven spades and all my hope fadesWhen surprise, surprise, the high bidding pays!Were winning all tricks, the defenders feel sick,And I have to admit my partners a brick. No wound so deep will ever goEntirely awayYet every hurt becomesA little less from day to day. He saw the road was getting roughAnd the hills were hard to climb,So he closed your weary eyelidsAnd whispered, Peace be thine.. 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. And in the game of life and love,there are the Kings and Queens.They rule loves game in their own way,at least thats how it seems. Aunt Mabel Don Geiger A poem written for a specific aunt, but which many nieces and nephews can relate to.My Aunt Megan Stokes A poem written for an aunt but can be used for a generic female role model.What My Aunt Meant To Me anon A beautiful poem indicating the place in our hearts that our aunt held. give me the flavourof butterscotch and vanillawith a little chocolateplease and thank you. But, even in death, Harold Pinter made sure his final farewell was as carefully and poetically orchestrated as his life's. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. Wheeling through the beautiful countrysideFar from the citys commotionAlone, just me, my bike, my thoughtsThe joy of quiet motion. And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress eyebrow. Light a candle, see it glow,Watch it dance when you feel low,Think of me, think of light,Ill always be here, day or night.A candle flickers out of sightBut in your heart I still burn bright. Coffee In Heaven John Agard A poem wondering whether the coffee in heaven is actually any good.Fuelled By Coffee Mark Gregory A poem for someone whose daily life revolved around coffee.The Warmth Of Your Love Mark Gregory A poem for a warm-hearted soul who loved sharing a coffee. The fire tone rang. Gymnasts (Sonnet #52) Paul Rowley A beautiful sonnet about the fine line between success and failure.Her Chosen Way Mark Gregory A rhyming poem about the beauty and skill of a female gymnast.The Way He Moved Mark Gregory A poem in free verse about the graceful movements of a gymnast. 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 on a soundless-clapping host As the run-stealers flicker to and fro, To and fro: O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago! We all paint our lives.The mountains of challenges,The rivers of tears,The waterfalls of joy. Soft whistlingBats perched on the ceilingTears of the cavesDripping and echoingGentle lapping waterAcross rocking shoresGlowing mushrooms andGlowing wormsStalactites and stalagmitesShuddering in placeWarm, soft breathsOf bears who hibernateThe cave is sleepingBut very aliveAnd it is singingA mournful goodbye. 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. When you were a boy I dreamedOf the man you would become;But life had other plans for youWith challenges more than one. The world is always peaceful,As I sit and drink my tea.Im grateful for these simple moments,Of pure tranquility. If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with Kingsnor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything thats in it,Andwhich is moreyoull be a Man, my son! You truly inspire. Poems for those who had a passion for music during their life, whether as a DJ, singer, or simply music-lover. 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. What are Airlines Policies on carrying ashes? 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. 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. Our site uses cookies to provide you with the best possible user experience, if you choose to continue then we will assume that you are happy for your web browser to receive all cookies from our website. Poems for those who enjoyed the unique challenges and sounds of the bowling alley. Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend and the bike leans with me. Poems for those who were avid football fans or skilled football players. Where on Shaftesbury Cres, the kids now play. Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Poems for those who were keen on loosing an arrow from a bow. It knocks down the road toward the next wreckers yard,And it cant get far; whos driving this car? Is there anyway we could carry out this request please if possible? JavaScript is disabled. Her arms both glittered, her legs glistened, Her neck was a twinkle on display, She was a shiny beautiful colourful star, When she walked throughout the day. That would be the most meaningful of all. March Madness is the great excitement right now (apart from American Idol), and there is a strange assumption that this madness is internationalthat the world is somehow involved with this madness. Building A Legacy Mark Gregory A lovely little poem for a creative and passionate Lego builder.Lego House Britney Njomo I might be out of mindbut Im forever the queen of my Lego house.Ode To My Legos Dylan Harvey A poem ideal for the death of a child whose had a marvellous time with Lego. Patti Masterman A poem about being grateful that your body lasted as long as it did. There is a train at the stationWith a seat reserved just for meIm excited about its destinationAs Ive heard it sets you free. The steps grew larger, the land less greatMy eyes more tired, my path less straightThe bells kept ringing, farther awayToo many to count, their sound now grey. You can shed tears that she is goneOr you can smile because she has lived, You can close your eyes and pray that she will come backOr you can open your eyes and see all that she has left, Your heart can be empty because you cant see herOr you can be full of the love that you shared, You can remember her and only that she is goneOr you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
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