Im climbing a mountainI feel the cool breeze on my face,And the suns beating downIm forever at home in this place. Stepping into his workshop to start the day,Different pieces of wood laid in array,The scent of cedar filling the air,A piece of furniture he works to prepare,Handcrafted with love and the finest precision,A work came to life with what he could envision,Measuring the wood for the perfect size,Tape measure at hand from his supplies,Reaching for a saw lying on a shelf,He whistles a familiar tune to himself,Cutting the wood with the utmost care,A type of craftsmanship no other can compare,Skilled at working with his hands,He strives to use them for all of lifes demands,Hands that could craft his hearts desires,Creating a lifetime of work to be forever admired,The ability to turn something simple into grand,The only tools he needed were his left and right hand,Each piece of work embodies his spirit and love,A talent he was blessed with from the Lord above,The carpenter lives on through his creations,His heart the framework to all his foundations, Why, Oh why, didnt I build my own coffin?Now that the chips are downThen I wouldnt have a splinter in my bumWith me unable to protest in sound, My lifes jigsaw is dovetailed awayAnd its my turn now to walk the plankBut my coffin maker also made the boatAnd fortunately for me, it sank, Ashes to ashes, sawdust to sawdustMy preservative has whittled awayFarewell to the woods, farewell to the treesA master craftsman now lies at ease. No wound so deep will ever goEntirely awayYet every hurt becomesA little less from day to day. We did so much togetherrode in carsshared our lovenear the campfireWith soft and tender armsTamed broken pasts. Go on with the day,go on with the night,enjoy the richeslife has to offer. Ring out the old, ring in the new,Ring, happy bells, across the snow:The year is going, let him go;Ring out the false, ring in the true. Our father kept a garden.A garden of the heartHe planted all the good things,That gave our lives their start.He turned us to the sunshine,And encouraged us to dream;Fostering and nurturing the seeds of self-esteem.And when the winds and rain came, he protected us enoughBut not too much because he knewWe would stand up strong and tough.His constant good example,Always taught us right from wrong, markers for our pathway,to last a lifetime long.We are our fathers garden,We are his legacyAnd I hope today he feels the loveReflected back from me. I deal with screamingchildren,who dont want a cut.And the people who keep rolling in,after the doors should shut. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. That our caravanning days togetherHave now ended that is trueBut travel on my darlingAnd think of me as you do. Every dayWe puzzlers cheer For since 1913, Once a day they appear. As Stevie Bloomer watches down. Bugs on visor, flatly splattered, Speed limits, completely shattered. The other bingo players follow you with their eyes,As you happily claim that winning prize,Just the thought of bingo and the chance to win,Makes you smile one great big bingo grin! She says you have my teddy.Hell keep you safe from harm.If the going gets hard, just squeeze his handAnd he will keep you calm. Inner pages (if required) are printed on high quality 120gsm white bond. I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.To the gulls way and the whales way where the winds like whetted knife:And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long tricks over. Crystals form almost uniformwhere many cave creatures are bornflowing walls made of stonebeautiful formations have grown. Please tell her she is loved so very dear.Ill say it every day for her to hear.Her short life on earth is now completedFor lessons Im sure you felt I needed. I do not despair If a few I cant solve But begin on the down clues With extra resolve. Fly, fly do not fearDont waste a breath, dont shed a tearYour heart is pure, your soul is freeBe on your way, dont wait for meAbove the universe youll climbOn beyond the hands of timeThe moon will rise, the sun will setBut I wont forget. 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. I've picked 10 of my favourite funeral verses including a special funeral poem for a Dad. This will be my final journeyI go with no regretsThe days weve had togetherHave been the very best. Poems for those who loved exploring the darkest depths of the oceans. Come gather here,Be at your ease,To say this last goodbye.Not to this shell before you,But to a life passed by. Your family had joined a larger family of caregivers,Professionals, friends, and team mates.As the days go by, you are called upon to assistSomeone in need,Leaving your family known to you and love,Knowing someday something may go wrong. 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. 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. The world may never noticeIf a Snowdrop doesnt bloom,Or even pause to wonderIf the petals fall too soon. Poems for those who suffered from dementia during their life. Poems for those who enjoyed a bout in the ring, or who enjoyed taking in a big fight. Poems encouraging us to think positively in the face of death. Poems about grandfathers, grandpas, and gramps. I am never without it (anywhere. Core of my heart, my country! Crickets Demi, Gods And Villains, by Rajnish Manga A Cricket Sang Good Luck, by Sandra Fowler, Hunter. Those who live long endure sadness and tearsBut youll never suffer the sorrowing yearsNo betrayal, no anger, no hatred, no fearsJust love only love in your lifetime. The seats are saggy from long time use,The rear-views broken; whos driving this car? Once you have acquired the knack,Believe me, you will not look back! The second candle represents the courage to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives. You see, there is a shadow wherethere didnt used to be,and sometimes when I look right thereit just confuses me. So, think about this long and hard.Are there things youd like to change?For you never know how much time is leftThat can still be rearranged. Poems for those who loved games like bridge, canasta, poker, and various other card-based activities. The earth provides the musicTo set your spirit freeYou only need to trust yourselfFly! Obtainingperfection is my keyIts what I strive for, its all that defines mePushing harder and harder to reach my goalIts what I live for, ballet is my soul. 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. The Print+ membership where Singletrack magazine drops through your door, plus full digital access, is normally 45, now only 22.50 with the code. Youve also got some sweeties.Isnt Nana kind?I may have stolen one or two,But I knew you wouldnt mind. Poems for those who had a passion for karate, judo, kung fu, jiu jitsu, and other forms of martial arts. I hope youre dancing in the skyAnd I hope youre singing in the angels choirAnd I hope the angels know what they haveIll bet its so nice up in heaven since you arrivedI hope you are dancing in the sky. 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! Keep the men happy and the girls nice,Let everybody be merry and have a good night.Keep the hookers out and the troublemakers at home,Leave the anger and misgivings at the door. 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. Couples are twirling across the dance floorAnd I wonder why I am here at allSeems a long time since you and I were hereYet it was only this same time last year. He rides like an eagle, flyingAll along the stars;Its all about the journeySafe now from any harm. One popular poem, Dylan Thomas' " Do not go gentle into that good night ," talks about the unstoppable nature of death and how we can challenge the way we face death. Nothing can erase the painfulImprints on your mindBut there are softer memoriesThat time will let you find. Just wish me to be near you,And Ill be there with you. Popular Poems for Funerals & Non-religious Readings. We dreamed of you and of your lifeAnd all that it would be.We waited and longed for you to come.And join our family. 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. 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. The draping, it is perfectNo wrinkles will you seeA symbol of a nationA reminder that were free. 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. My mind has ways of taking mewhere I dont want to go.I know I know you name, you see;Just right now its hard for meto think of things I really knowand to know what really is,and what may not be so. And when this carpenter arrived in heavenhe was expected andimmediately he was put to work:for the Pearly Gateswere a bit looseand St. Peters deskhad a couple of drawers that stuck.And before longthe old master carpenterbegan to builda new thronefor God. cricket poems for funerals. "Death Is Nothing At All" by Robert Scott Holland. In our hearts there is a placeThat only you can hold;Filled with loving memoriesMore precious than gold. Someday I will soarWhere only eagles dare to fly.My wings will span great distancesIn a clear blue azure sky.So high above this worldly placeThat Heavens doors Ill see.And angel voices will start to carry meThrough skies ringing with sweet melody.For God has promised us this dayIf His name we will revere.And I hold this promise in my heartAs I mount up with wings that shall have no fear. A troublemaker, a teacher, a friend.

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