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My three sons I married right,And their sons I rocked at night;Death nor sorrow never broughtCause for one unhappy thought. Clean your rims, my friend! If Id met her in a cavein the darkwhere no light ever livedshe would still be the brightest thing Id ever seenfor it aways was the way she wasnever the way she lookedthat made her so beautiful to meand beautiful she wasthough I never let it blind mefor it was only when I closed my eyesand stood in that darkest cavethat she truly blinded mewith beauty. A Boy and His Dad by Edgar A. Tip: Does it create a picture in your mind? OUR AUDIOBOOK IS NOW AVAILABLE THROUGH AUDIBLE &. " The Beer Prayer - anon - A beer-infused version of the Lord's Prayer. I pray the wickets well-prepared,And that it doesnt stick,That all my shots find gaps And that the outfields fairly quick. The scent of the roast,The hiss of the brew,The warmth of the cup,It all reminds us of you. As blow after blow upon his battered head does fallHe knows but only one way, and that is the brawlAnd though his poor body has long since given inThe Spirit of the Fighter knows no such thing! The Bird That Was Trapped Has Flown James Robertson Several metaphors for a physically disabled person set free.Caged Bird Maya Angelou A wonderfully poetic verse which is at times a difficult metaphor for disability.Not Quite Right E. B. They fall on deaf ears, heart turned asideWaiting for someone, arms open wideI have become lost, my own mistakeI went far from them, no path to take. It wasnt easy watching youOf that I wont denyAnd Im not ashamed to sayThat there were times I cried. Dementia came and took you away,From your family and your friends.It left your mind in turmoil,Until the very end. Our fishermanWho art on riverbanksAngler be thy nameThy fishing season comesThy casting will be doneThe weather will be heavenly.Give us this day lots of bitesAnd forgive us our laughterAs we forgive you, yourLies about the one that got away.Lead us to a shoal of fishAnd deliver us a big catchFor thine is the carpThe Pike and the TroutForever and ever,Amen. I do not think of you lying in the wet clayOf a Monaghan graveyard; I seeYou walking down a lane among the poplarsOn your way to the station, or happily. So fleeting is this thing called life, we journey toward its end,experiencing pieces of a puzzle we dont truly comprehend.The hues of our emotion paint a picture of our past,as we hurtle toward a destiny that is not meant to last.Youth a canvas all in white, not knowing what awaits,feel caresses of a brush that which we know as fate.Love so very true in reds, that beat within our heart,shadows black take form as hate, which tears the soul apart.Greens of joy and happiness, lush grass beyond compare,sadness, shrouded depths of blue, the waters of despair.Yellow screams of agony and pain which we endure.Guilt and shame are shades of grey, a torrential downpour.Earthy brown desires are that for which we lust,the loss of which comes with age, like chrome begins to rust.The image changing constantly as time plods slowly on,taking shape in many forms, as the twilight replaces dawn.We look into a mirror for the answers which we seek,but we find no consolation as our eyes grow dim and weak.The final touches on a painting created with much love,as we realise that the destination is the gallery above. 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. And when its time that they sadly must leave usWe grieve, but also we smile.We give thanks that our lives were connectedAnd were tucked in their heart for a while. The final chapter of that is quite moving as the author was battling unsuccessfully against cancer to get it finished. Poems reflecting upon the importance of the memories we have of others. Abraham Lincoln. With tearful eyes we watched him sufferAnd saw him slowly fade awayAlthough we loved him dearlyWe could not make him stay. She wore her earringsLike a queenWith regal graceAnd a silent dignityThat only a womanWho knows who she isCan possess. With each brand new discovery, Im always quite astounded,The history of life on Earth is gloriously unboundedFrom dinosaurs to shells and plants, theres always something more,Fossils are simply priceless treasures I cant help but adore. The archer and his bowNever cease to amaze;They are togetherThroughout all days. Ninety years without slumbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)His lifes seconds numbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)It stopped short never to go again When the old man died. Im giving up bridge Tonights my last nightIts amen to Staymen, I give up the fight.The insults and muddles are giving me troublesAnd I cant sleep at night for thinking of doubles. Similar . I know you are watching over meAs my life goes on.I will treasure the memories I have of you.I cant believe youre gone. You didnt die just recently,You died some time ago.Although your body stayed a while,And didnt really know. Going to second Mass on a summer SundayYou meet me and you say:Dont forget to see about the cattleAmong your earthiest words the angels stray. Feel No Guilt In Laughter anon A call not to feel guilty at sharing happy and funny memories of the deceased.Last Will And Testament Max Scratchmann A light-hearted message from the deceased to their living relatives. I thought I saw her face todayIn the sparkle of the morning sun.And then I heard the angel say,Her work on earth is done., I thought I heard her voice todayThen laugh her hearty laugh.And then I heard the angel say,Theres peace, little one, at last., I thought I felt her touch todayIn the breeze that rustled by.And then I heard the angel say,The spirit never dies., I thought that she had left meFor the stars so far above.And then I heard the angel say,She left you with her love., I thought that I would miss herAnd never find my way.And then I heard the angel say,Shes with you every day.. With great expectation you quietly sitGaining confidence, you smirk a bit.Here it comes, you see the ball,As you anxiously wait to hear the call. Ive grown up with your values,And Im very glad I did;So heres to you, dear father,From your forever grateful kid. Where every day is a day to fish,To fill your heart with every wish.Dont worry, or feel sad for me,Im fishin with the Master of the sea. With no maps to guide us we steered our own course,Rode out the storms when the winds were gale force,Sat out the doldrums in patience and hope:Working together we learned how to cope. Love is like a game of cards,you win, you pass, you lose.Life is like a poker game,depends which bluff you choose. But now you are gone,and with you the aromaof your favourite roast. A Legacy of Stitches is what we leave behind;the imprint of our very soul that lasts beyond our time.The heart that quilts knows, oh, so well the peace that can be found,as needle meets with fabric, for there is no sweeter sound.Whether quiet piecing done by hand or on our sewing machine,theres rhythm to our stitches as we sew along each seam.Those stitches tell the story of our lives as they unfoldas we think of quilts that Grandma made with stories left untold.The humdrum of our daily lives grows elegant and grand,when we start to cut the pieces, then stitch the fabric in our hands.And whatever is the reason for the quilts we piece and sew,and whoever is the maker, there is one thing that we know.Each quilt is full of memories and is a treasured thing.If quilts could talk, imagine how some quilts would surely sing!For some quilts are sewn in happy times and others when were sad,and some are sewn in laughter and others when were mad.Some are sewn to warm us, and some sewn just for fun,and some are works in progress that never quite get done!Some quilts are sewn for beauty, a quilt made just for show,but the heart of the true quilter is the one who really knows That no matter how the quilt is stitched, we leave our mark in time.This Legacy of Stitches is what we leave behind. 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. He seemed to cast off weight and gravityAs if he were no more than a spiritWhose substance was its own agility. Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.I have run and leaped with the rain, I have taken the wind to my breast.My cheek like a drowsy child to the face of the earth I have pressed. Poems about those who were selfless in all aspects of their lives. Although I cannot see you,I feel your presence near.I will hold you close in memory,Till I drop my very last tear. When your own words fail you, a poem can serve as a perfect funeral reading or eulogy. The archer and his bow:Take aim and let the arrow fly,It hits, fast as lightning A perfect bulls-eye. He put his arms around youAnd lifted you to rest.Gods garden must be beautiful,He always takes the best. Granddad,We know you can no longer stay with us,you fought long and hard to be with us.We know you now watch over and protect us.Although we cannot hear your voice or see your smiling face,We know deep down in our hearts that you have not left us.Instead every day you surround us with the singing of the birds,the rising of the sun and the falling of night.So many broken hearts are left behind,But in our deepest despair our greatest comfort lies knowingthat you are now at peace with the angels and God.So as times passes our tears will dry,our hearts will mend,but our love for you will never end. Poems about those people in our lives who stuck by us through thick and thin. I know well they powerIn each trying hourThou servant so faithful and trueWhen the swift rushing windIs left muttering behindAs thou sippest the sweet morning dew. Oh life! We had a wonderful grandmotherOne who never really grew oldHer smile was made of sunshineAnd her heart was solid gold. 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. You explain death to the clothes like that dream.You tell them how much you miss the spouseand how much you miss the pet with its little winter sweater. She touched the hearts of everyone she knew.Letting her go was so hard to do.Her smile could brighten up the darkest room.I wish you didnt have to take her so soon. Im climbing a mountainI stop just to gaze at the view,So clear the horizonLike my every dream has come true. 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. 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.. The fire tone rang. So as we lay them down to restWell watch one final filmIn honour of their memoryAnd the love they had for them. Where houses stand and turf once lay. Afterwards Thomas Hardy A beautiful poem with many delicately described images of the English countryside.In Memory Of My Mother Patrick Kavanagh A poem written for an Irish mother who loved the countryside.Margarets Moon Jackie Kay A poem about the death of a lady, whose soul is released into the Scottish highlands.My Country Dorothea MacKellar An ode to the wondrous countryside of the authors home. 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. Its everything you sacrificedand choices you made.Its all the problems that you solved,your lessons from mistakes. Their greatest nemesis and saviour,are known simply as brakes.In order to pass,they wait for mistakes. But then, like sunshine, here and goneYou left us in the mournful dark.The time we shared was full of warmthOur flame sustained us through the yearsAnd now it lights the path aheadBetween the silence and the tears. It broke our hearts to lose you,But you didnt go alone,For part of us went with youThe day God called you home. Its not only just the silks, and the colour and the flair, Or all the many kindred folk that I find gathered there, Sharing the excitement of the journey jockeys facing, That whips me to action, for another day of racing. Walk a while with me my friends, walk with me today,Come and see what I see, and listen to what I say,Yes I have dementia, and sometimes I get worse,Please be very grateful, that you dont have this curse,But are we all that different, the likes of you and me?We breathe the same; we feel the same, the same things we do seeThe only different my friends, I dont feel that well,When I cant remember, everything you tell,My heart beats just as quickly as yours, my blood runs just as fast,But because of my dementia, my shadow, it is cast,Its the shadow cast by others, that takes away my light,Turns my life to darkness, my pleasure to frightFor when you cast that shadow, and it comes my way,It drains me of my energy, makes me hide, or run away,Sometimes I do different things, my mind is not my own,But do YOU never talk to yourself, when you are alone?So am I all that different? And sometimes glanced at the play, I pray that my side score quick runsAnd our opponents falter,And if it comes to pass we lose,I pray the games a belter. The Sadness Of Clothes Emily Fragos A poem about the sad things clothes might feel when their owner dies.A True Fashionista Mark Gregory A short poem highlighting how the deceaseds beauty will live on after death. Thou life giving wheelWhose sinews are steelMy veins imbibe life from thine ownAnd I sink to my restWith true loyal zestWhile my dreams are my cycles alone. Dont judge me, for I am just like you.I can feel, I can love, and I can cry too. In life, he found his greatest joyIn this game of queens and kings,Now, as he rests beneath the soil,We remember all of his wins. And to those not with us or by our side, May God be your partner on your final ride. 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 . Our revels now are ended. Her creations all made with such skill and such careLove knitted into the gifts who would shareA jacket for a baby, a blanket or twoIn almost every shade from pink to blue. 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. May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. Sunday morning early comesThis sweltering summers day;Chrome and coffee polished offAs bike and rider wake. Villanelle Of Spring BellsBells in the town alight with springconverse, with a concordance of new airsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. so sad, recurringWhat good amid these, O me, O life? But oh! Each time we see a little cloudOr a rainbow soaring highWell think of you and gentlyWipe a tear from our eye. 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. Three weeks after her death,a stranger entered the salonand settled in the chair.She had the colour and shapeof his mothers hair,and when he sunk his hands in it,the texture, even cowlicks,individual as frecklessame.Twice he had to leave the room,and twice, he returnedstill,when he touched her hair, it blurred.Hold still, he said, hold still. Finding You In Beauty Walter Rinder A beautiful poem about the echoes of our loved ones in the beauty around us.The Gardener Mark Gregory A rhythmic poem about the work of a gardener and the fruits of his labour.The Gentle Gardener Edgar Albert Guest A poem about leaving nothing but beauty behind when you pass away.The Glory Of The Garden Rudyard Kipling A poem comparing England to a garden, and praising those who tend it.Meet You At The Gate Barbara Bailey A lovely, slightly religious poem lamenting the loss of a female gardener.The Noblest Work Of Man Mark Gregory A poem urging us not to eschew labour, but to add beauty to the world. As I look up to the skies above,The stars stretch endlessly But somehow all those rays of lightSeem dimmer now to me.As I watch the morning sun appearThe shadows still dont fadeAs if the brightest light of allWas somehow swept away. When he put them all together,He was amazed at what hed done.He had created a family,Mother, father, daughter, son. This simple cup of tea,Is a reminder of all that is fleeting,All that is beautiful and transient,In this world of ours. 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. God saw him getting tiredAnd a cure was not to beSo he put His arms around himAnd whispered Come to me.. I hope that you will be thereTo wish me on my wayIts not a journey you can join inIts not your time today. We must dig in and get through to tea. MORE THYME! Just remember that I need you,That the best of me is gone,Please dont fail to stand beside me,Love me til my life is done. It was a heaven houseThe books were there, and so were people whoLoved reading them, and that is all that matters. The gardener, with his spade and hoe,Works in the sun and rain and snow;He digs and plants and waters too,And watches over what he grew. I watch the magic happeningAs yarn becomes a shawl.The knitting needles of my auntAre at her beck and call. They dipThey soarThey dart right byWe wonder how it feels to fly. Poems for those who made a career moulding and shaping wood, or who simply enjoyed it as a pastime. If we treat each other with respectAnd more often wear a smile,Remembering this special dashMight only last a little while. So let us ride to help make others aware.That the roads that we ride are for all to share. For a second you were flyingLike you always wanted toNow youll fly foreverIn skies of azure blue. And if Im asked to bowl I prayThe ball leaves my hand true,So whether or not wickets comeIll know that theyre my due. So tell me nowAnd tell me true.So I can sayIm here for you.. I light a candle in loving memory of you:Its flame flickers like the spark you lit in me.The wax melts away like moments in timeTil we meet again.So shines a symbol of hopein a sorrow-filled world.The wicks warmth keeps the flame alightlike my faith within keeps me alive.Smoke spirals into the sky towards yousaying your name.The shimmering shine spreads peaceand parts the shadows.Its illuminating light lifts my soul to youand combines our consciousness.The flame of the candle may blow outbut the flame of our lovewill always burn in my heart. But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stay,And early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. No tears to be shed,Only in cheer;Continueonthe path already ledEachonyour own veer. 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. We have a lot to be thankful for,The memories through the years.The many times together,Full of laughter, full of tears. I love to learn about them, and share all that I find,With others who love their fossils just as much as I love mine,They know that fossils are far more than simply rocks and debris,They are a vital window into our worlds history. Its any time that youve been proudof others or yourself.Its every song you turned up loud,and every friend you helped. And though you are gone, though youre not here with methe cord is still there but no one can seeIt pulls at my heart, I am bruisedI am sorebut this cord is my lifeline as never before. 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! Capitulation anon A poem about the highs and lows of bridge, and always being on the verge of quitting.The Gambler Kenny Rogers The lyrics to Rogers infamous song about the train ride with the gambler.A Keen Bridge Player Simon Lucas A humorous limerick about forgetting to remove the jokers! 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. It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,Though my own red roses there may blow;It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.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 hostAs the run-stealers flicker to and fro,To and fro;O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago! 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. If we could just slow down enoughTo consider whats true and realAnd always try to understandThe way other people feel. Hello there, Granddad.Its me, your little man,I couldnt find you yesterday,When I came to visit Nan. The fistic world was dull and weary,But with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.Then someone with color and someone with dash,Brought fight fans a-runnin with plenty of cash.For I am the man this poem is about,The next champ of the world, there isnt a doubt.Iamthe greatest! 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. Idyll Siegfried Sassoon A peaceful poem about meeting again in the calmness and idyll of the afterlife.Overwhelmed Marjorie Pizer A verse about sitting by the sea to seek calmness when everything gets too much.Their Quiet Heart Mark Gregory A verse for someone who brought calmness and serenity to any situation. They kept us warm on winter nights,A sense of peace and calm,They were more than just plain fabric;They were creations of her palm. And Rest Rev. I walk beside you, I am there all day longI am right here. I wont dye my hair pink or blueMy piercings will stay as the simple twoNails cut short and hair in a bunIn ballet, this must be done. by Gabrielle Tintitranslation by David Graham. &In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.& Robert Frost, &What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.&Albert Pike, &The fear of death follows from the fear of life.