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We laughed we joked we talked we ateWe were a family dont you seeThough some may have been raised poorYou can see it wasnt me. And now my race had endedSo much I have achievedI loved you all so very muchIt was so hard to leave. 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. 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. May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. Crickets Poems - Modern Award-winning Crickets Poetry : All Poetry 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. And I would want to lead just right,And to know that I was true.So walk a little slower, Daddy,For I must follow you. And the bar stayed open all day. Once it was new, best thing on the road,But now its just old; so whos driving this car? The four-inch beam has filled the best with fear.They leap and land, then totter and some fall.The lines around the floor seem oft so near,That tiny step outside can lose it all. So sleep now with the angels,And your golden heart let rest.Although our hearts are broken,We know God took the best. I watched them tearing a building down,A gang of men in a busy town.With a ho-heave-ho and lusty yell,They swung a beam and a sidewall fell.I asked the foreman, Are these men skilled,As the men youd hire if you had to build?He gave me a laugh and said No indeed!Just common labour is all I need.I can easily wreck in a day or twoWhat builders have taken a year to do.And I thought to myself as I went my way,Which of these two roles have I tried to play?Am I a builder who works with care,Measuring life by the rule and square?Am I shaping my deeds by a well-made plan,Patiently doing the best I can?Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,Content with the labour of tearing down? Do not ask me to remember,Dont try to make me understand,Let me rest and know youre with me,Kiss my cheek and hold my hand. And keep a song within your heart,give thanks that you can playFor the round is far too short and sweet,to let it slip away. It wove its way within our hearts, in all our hopes and dreams,Until the very purest love became my tiny wings.Although I could not stay with you, I knew right from the start,That once you felt your angels love, youd keep me in your hearts. For this one farmer the worries are over, lie down and rest your head,Your time has been and struggles enough, put the tractor in the shed. There were a couple of muckers who mixed up the cement,they were forever subbing so they never paid their rent. All the worlds a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances;And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages. We both are made by one in the same.We grew to be different, Im not to blame. The instruments played this salutationTo amusicianof note and much moreAt the end, everyone stamped their feetEncore, Encore, Encore! 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. 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. He rides like an eagle, flyingAll along the stars;Its all about the journeySafe now from any harm. 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. The Cyclist Joyce Elliot A short poem that perfectly describes the atmosphere and internal sensations of a bike ride.Oh! 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. 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? The 43 Most Touching Funeral Poems for Moms My love, you gave yourself to meAnd life caught fire from your spark. Lyrics from google. You always believed that the good Lord would provide and He always had somehow,Take off your gloves and put them down, no more sweat and worry for you now. what day does pilot flying j pay; western power distribution. 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. 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. 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. 3. Twenty-four numbers and one free space,Bingo players, find your place!Hoping to win if you are ableWith the cards that lay upon the table. The place was very quiet,But not too quiet. A mile of gleaming metal linesThe circle and the park;Out of saddles, boots hit brickAnd make for chapels heart. What secrets are revealedWhilst mirrored in that chairAll caped or gowned and waitingFor the trusted hairdresser to share, As scissors work at a frenzyFeverishly between cuts and snipsShe listens intently with friendly earEmpathy at her finger tips. Top 20 Funeral Poems | Ever Loved - Ever Loved | The #1 Funeral Website 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. Poems for those brave men and women who risked their lives to save others from fire. Ill always be your mother,Hell always be your dad.You will always be our child,The child that we had. T he one person I could always take my troubles to. The moment I knew about youformed a bond that will never break This tiny life I have insidefrom me no-one could take. On The Grasshopper And Cricket, by John Keats, theartofchildrenspicturebooks.blogspot.com. Be and bebetter. And be less quick to angerAnd show appreciation moreAnd love the people in our livesLike weve never loved before. I Juggle As I Go Mark Gregory A poem that mimics the rhythmic repetition of juggling, and, indeed, of life.The Juggler Richard Wilbur A poem that uses a juggler as ametaphorfor the kind of change one needs in life. 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. I loved going to bingoAnd seeing all my chumsId listen out for numbersHoping they would be the ones. Rest there on the mossWhere the soft zephyrs tossThough circlet of beauty and prideWith thy invisible wingsAttached to thy stringsAre folded in peace at thy side. And when she passedHer earringsWere the only adornmentShe neededTo shineIn the next world. Wheeling through the beautiful countrysideFar from the citys commotionAlone, just me, my bike, my thoughtsThe joy of quiet motion. Friend and kin,I loved them so;Although Im gone,Im sure they know. 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. I will miss youOh so much.So will allThe lives thatYou haveTouched. Our lager, which art in barrels,Hallowed be Thy drink,Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),At home as I am in the tavern.Give us this day our foamy head,And forgive us our spillages,As we forgive those who spill against us,And lead us not to incarceration,But deliver us from hangovers,For thine is the beer, the bitter and the lager,Forever and ever,Barmen. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. Use code HELLO54 when you join us as a print or digital member and your membership will be half price for the first year. Closer, the bowler's arm swept down, The ball swung, swerved and darted, Stump and bail flashed and flew; The batsman pensively departed. You know Ill always ride hereeven when my ridings doneIn the whisper of the pre-dawnor the final burst of sunAt the corners of transitionwhere the changes are obscuredI will ride and if you see meits because our love has endured. Through the curves, around the ton, Down the last hill, over-run, City lights below are glowing, Common sense, bike is slowing, Reality, once more it bites, To draw me back from dizzy heights, Down the driveway, to home I glide, Wish my mate was by my side! Then as time gently passes by,And comfort soothes your sorrow,Like flowers youll find, new memories bloom,To brighten your tomorrow. Im now at peace,Life battles done,Ive faced the foeAnd I have won. Take my ash, and let it fly,Oer the land of ShimanoBut save some for Italia fairAnd the fields of Campagno(lo). Ive seen her use that apronTo wipe her dripping browAs she laboured over the big rangeThats just an antique now. Ive got the bowling ball blues.Now all I want is a spare.But all I get is bad news.Im always off by a hair.Come on now, roll like thunder,Drop those pins asunder:Cure my bowling ball blues. God saw her getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around herAnd whispered Come to me.. You didnt die just recently,You died some time ago.Although your body stayed a while,And didnt really know. )Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renewd,Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,The question, O me! As you bid me farewell this one last timeSpray me with natures flowers and loveFor I will need those memoriesAs I watched you from above. Love Is Like A Game Of Cards Titia Geertman A verse comparing card games to love and life. You may have thought I didnt see,Or that I hadnt heard,Life lessons that you taught to me,But I got every word. Do not standatmy grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I amathousand winds that blow;I am the diamond glintson thesnow.I am the sunlight on ripened grain;I am the gentleautumnsrain.Whenyouawaken in themornings hush,I am the swiftupliftingrushOf quiet birds incircledflight.I am thesoft star that shines atnight.Do not standatmy grave and cry.I am not there; I did not die. This wretched pain inside of meMy throat, my heart, my now. Each time we see a little cloudOr a rainbow soaring highWell think of you and gentlyWipe a tear from our eye. Poems reflecting upon the importance of the memories we have of others. Funeral Poems - Mark Your Occasion When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear. Cricket Quotes - Funny, Inspirational and Motivational the Scrabble Kinghas arrived once moreto pound awayat the competition. Id like to encourage you all to remember my game,And maybe keep my photo or my top score in a frame.And when your own ball reaches the end of the lane,Id like to hope Id see you in the afterlife again. Bartenders Prayer anon A lovely little poem about the wishes of a bartender every evening before the bar opens.The Last Barman Poet Tom Cruise The poem from the 1988 film Cocktail.My Shift Is Over Mark Gregory A poem about the varied role that a bartender takes on while entertaining his punters. The 'Cricket' Funeral Order of Service design is from the HobbiesRange, which is only available from Fitting Farewell. Youve always made me happy,I hope you can truly see.Youre more than just an Uncle,youre also a great friend to me. From the first time that you hold em,Through every time you scold em,And every soiled nappy that youve changed,From all the crap you saw,They will always dish out more,Its just the way that children are arranged. Weeping willows formed an honour guardFor the cricket ball writ with a noble nameA team of ten, which had once been elevenWould never be the same side again. If so then this may be perfect. Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. He had a keen eye, a quick hand and a skillTo work manually with strength and effort and willHis hard work inspired and was in demand,not just near home but across the land. Unknown Life is simply a cricket match, with temptation as the bowler. 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. Some love it for mingling with their upstanding crowdThe drinking, the laughter, the gossip so loudThey arrive at the track wearing yesterdays shoppingFor racing you say, more a spot of Box hopping. 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. Poems about those people in our lives who stuck by us through thick and thin. 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. Daughter, life is not the samenow youre no longer here,but our love for you is still strongand will remain year after year. My mums playing Bingo in heavenWith a happy smile on her faceIf shed known there was a Bingo hall in heavenShed have looked more forward to the place!Past 78 and heavens gateIts 83 and time for teaWith 61 and a bakers bunAnd no queue for the lavatory!After 41 and time for fun,Shes won with 54 and wiped the floorI really do thank my lucky starsMy mum landed in heaven instead of on Mars! A wife, a mother, a grandmother too,This is the legacy we have from you.You taught us love and how to fight,You gave us strength, you gave us might.A stronger person would be hard to find,And in your heart, you were always kind.You fought for us all in one way or another,Not just as a wife not just as a mother.For all of us you gave your best,Now the time has come for you to rest.So go in peace, youve earned your sleep,Your love in our hearts, well eternally keep. Your love for coffee was a passion,A way to start each day anew.It gave you strength and courage,To do the things you had to do. Do not go gentle into that good night, O precious, tiny, sweet little oneYou will always be to me.So perfect, pure, and innocentJust as you were meant to be. I have always been a readerand I will always be oneeven when I am no longer heremy books will live oncarrying me in their heartsjust as I have carried themin mine. Your labor is done, your home now is heaven; no more must you wait,Your legacy lives on, your love of the land, and we will close the gate. Poems for those who had a love of candles and incense, or poems that evoke candles and candlelight. Climbing up inclines so tall,treading carefully as not to fallemerging from the depthstaking several deep breathsI make my way to the surfacethe thought of leaving makes me nervous. Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. Short Poems for Funerals - Short Poems MORE THYME! The wind whispers secrets to meAs I paddle under the open skyAnd the beauty of nature, I can seeIn the sunsets and the birds that fly. She dances on the balance beam,So light, so free, so full of grace,Her body moves with effortless ease,In this, her chosen place. Your life was fueled by coffee,That much we know is true.It was more than just a drink,But a way of life for you.
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