Front-wheel down now, still Im flying, Through the gearbox, deftly plying, Speedo reads two hundred plus, Got up there without a fuss, Hard on brakes, back through the box, For an instant, rear wheel locks, Round the bend, my weight Im shifting, As the rear wheel, neatly drifting. On The Grasshopper And Cricket, by John Keats, theartofchildrenspicturebooks.blogspot.com. Pension Multiplier - commuted of full pension value used. Where I have goneI am not so small.My soul is as wideAs the world is tall.I have gone to answerThis call, the callOf the one who takesCare of us all.Wherever you look,You will find me there,In the heart of a rose,In the heart of a prayer.On butterflies wings,On wings of my own,To you, Im gone,But Im never alone.Im over the moonI am home. 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. Feels good as chain clunks from one socket to the next and the ticking whirring of freewheel and zipping noise of fast tires on flat asphalt. Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance, fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignorance ofdark, cold caves. Where houses stand and turf once lay. But when, to show affection for my son,she gives him candy, who can bear her eyes?begging from a tiny serious idolforgiveness for the terrible gift of timeshe once held out with beautiful, ignorant hands. Sown in the earth by skillful handsBrought forth by sun and storm,Destined for a harvest dayFulfilled when ripe grain forms. We will miss each other for awhile,But you will come and bring your smile.That wont be long you will see,Till were together you and me. May each new day be a perfect gift.May love surround you, may your spirits lift. Brother when you weep for me, remember that it was meant to be,Lay me down and when you leave, remember Ill be at your sleeveIn every dark and choking hall, Ill be there as you slowly crawlOn every roof in driving snow; Ill hold your coat and you will know.In cellars hot with searing heat; at windows where at a gate you meet;In closets where young children hide: you know Ill be there at your side.The house from which I now respond is overstaffed with heroes gone;Men who answered one last bell did the job and did it well.As firemen we understand that deaths a card dealt in our hand,A card we hope we never play but one we hold there anyway.That card is something we ignore as we crawl across a weakened floor,For we know that were the only prayer for anyone that might be thereSo remember, as you wipe your tears, the joy I knew throughout the yearsAs I did the job I loved to do I pray that thought will see you through. Fly Like A Bird Javon Evans A poem detailing how wonderful and freeing it would be to fly.In Memoriam Victoria Bruce A poem encouraging mourners to think of the deceased in natures finer details.No Fear Of Flying anon A message from the deceased that they are no afraid to fly or to die. I cannot say. So as we gather here today, To say our last goodbyes, We know that they will always beIn our hearts and in our minds. Go after your dreams.Be bold. Pinter's perfectly scripted farewell - The Independent 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. 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. Sorry I had to cut the end off, but ARRSE only lets you post 10,000 characters at a time. Darts David E. Navarro A short verse about the trivial nature of darts compared to much of lifes pleasures.The Eight-Foot Mark Noel E. Williamson Some advice in rhyme about the game of darts and also life.Take It Easy Noel E. Williamson Some more advice from Williamson on darts and life. A ball point pen just wouldnt do That really is the case For I would be at quite a loss If I could not erase! They swiftly snatch a morning snack.One flies away,One flies back. If thou wouldst win, and not thy fortune rue,Subdue thyself yet to thyself be true. 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. May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. Long, long afterward, in an oakI found the arrow, still unbroke.And the song, from beginning to end,I found again in the heart of a friend. 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. 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. One is MS Dhoni and the other are the all others. When he put them all together,He was amazed at what hed done.He had created a family,Mother, father, daughter, son. Ring out a slowly dying cause,And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life,With sweeter manners, purer laws. With tearful eyes we watched her sufferAnd saw her slowly fade awayAlthough we loved her dearlyWe could not make her stay. He arrived, not quite finished off,as his brother said one night,and, I bet Gods feeling awfully sadthat he didnt get him right.. The earth was made so sweet,The sky so fair,For man to cultivateAnd love and wear.But we, alas! Ring out old shapes of foul disease;Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;Ring out the thousand wars of old,Ring in the thousand years of peace. 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. Some of the verses have been written by me; others have been used in my ceremonies; yet more are simply verses that I like, and believe can be useful in certain scenarios. The scent of the roast,The hiss of the brew,The warmth of the cup,It all reminds us of you. Neville Cardus is still the gold standard for cricket-related purple prose. The funeral bell is pealing for one, a last farewell,And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell.Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky,For one bound for his/her last resting place the cemetery nearby. 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. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. You truly inspire. This upbeat tune was used as the theme for the BBC's Test Cricket Highlights for many years, making it popular funeral music for lifelong cricket fans. She is in the presence of a storythat is lifting her out of her lifeand carrying her offto a place where the air is clearand the sun is always shining,to a place where the charactersare larger than lifeand their passions run deep,to a place where she is freeto lose herselfin the company of words. Four Roses For You anon A blessing ideal for use alongside the visual aid of four real roses.I Gathered Petals In My Hand Lou Szymkow A verse about the quiet, private moments we spent with our dead.I Place A Rose Lou Szymkow A poem about the pain of loss, and the symbolism of placing flowers by the graveside.The Rose Beyond The Wall A. L. Frink A poem about remaining hopeful, even when someone has passed out of sight.Time Heals anon A short poem about how just like a flower blooms, so too will our happy memories. Some folk can cheer up a cold dayWith just a few words or a glance.Others can make things seem betterIf you just give them half of a chance. I do not ask you for your tears,For I am free, my suffering past.Remember all the times we laughed,And when you find that happy place,Let a smile light up your face. Dont judge me, for I am just like you.I can feel, I can love, and I can cry too. Poems about those who were selfless in all aspects of their lives. Old man, said a fellow pilgrim near,You are wasting your strength with building here;Your journey will end with the ending day,You never again will pass this way,Youve crossed the chasm deep and wide,Why build you this bridge at evening tide?, The builder lifted his old gray head,Good friend, in the path I have come, he said,There followeth after me todayA youth whose feel must pass this way.This chasm which has been as naught to meTo that fair-haired youth might a pitfall be,He, too, must cross in the twilight dim,Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.. Oh me! 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. Ambitious new money tries hard to competeto break into the circle, become the eliteBy trying too hard, their case is rejectedThose subtle old judgements, still roundly respected. "Death Is Nothing At All" by Robert Scott Holland. 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.

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