cricket poems for funerals

Once you have acquired the knack,Believe me, you will not look back! Its all about the journeyIts the part that countsEven when he gets thereHe may just turn around. I have to goagaineven thoughIve just come backeven ifIm covered in bloodblood all over meeverywherethat no one bothersto wipe offand yet they call mestillthe crowd cheersthe ref is impatientmy opponent awaits meI feel deadenedevery voice is far awayand yet I hearI knowthat this is the momentthat I have to goits my jobat first I liked itI couldnt stopit was my lifenow no longerIm exhaustedworn outIm in pieceshow longcan my body last?how many of those punchescan it take?night is fallingI feel itfalling quicklyon memy powers weakendeath will comeand bethe fatal woundfor methe final defeat. They are not the same. The funeral bell is ringing for one, a last goodbye,And on the clock of our mortality, the hours just seem to fly,Respect to the departed is all that we can pay,And for each and every one of us, a final night and day. He is a lover of the earth,And all the wonders it gives birth;He is a lover of the bloom,And all the fragrant, sweet perfume. The warmth of your lovewas like the steam risingfrom a freshly brewed cupof coffeeinvigorating,comforting,and with every sipI felt more alive. Which is happier, man or boy?The soul of the father is steeped in joy,For hes finding out, to his hearts delight,That his son is fit for the future fight.He is learning the glorious depths of him,And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim.And he shall discover, when night comes on,How close he has grown to his little son. The strength of this cord its hard to describeit cant be destroyed it cant be denied.Its stronger than any cord man could createit withstands the test, can hold any weight. Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broomsBalancing up on his nose, and the plate whirlsOn the tip of the broom! These are examples of the best cricket poems written by PoetrySoup members Home Submit Poems Login Sign Up Member Home My Poems My Quotes My Profile & Settings My Inboxes My Outboxes Soup Mail Contests Poems Poets Famous Poems Famous Poets Dictionary Types of Poems Quotes Short Stories Articles Forum Blogs Poem of the Day New Poems Resources . Cannot be used in conjunction with other offers, or when switching memberships), Contact UsPrivacyForum RulesClassifieds RulesLink RemovalNewsletter SettingsAdvertising, Viewing 10 posts - 1 through 10 (of 10 total). - Navjot Sidhu 4 0 Add a comment Wickets are like wives, you never know which way they will turn! A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime. The transfer window never closesAs new players arrive all the timeTheres always a top team to play onAs for the kit, I just wish Id brought mine. And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come. I must be off to the links again,For the call of the fairways wideIs a loud call, and a clear callThat cannot be denied.It fills me with a mad desire to realiseMy dreams of tee-shots long,And irons strongTo the heart of all the greens. Sunset and evening star,And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,When I put out to sea. In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,Many hours had he spent while a boy;And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to knowAnd to share both his grief and his joy,For it struck 24 when he entered at the doorWith a blooming and beautiful bride;But it stopped short never to go again When the old man died. 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. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreamshis shadow shouts on a nightmare screamhis wings are clipped and his feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. Throttle on, and forward blast, The next corner, looming fast, Leaning in hard, and tyres gripping, Miles behind me, quickly slipping, White posts like a picket fence, Concentration, full, intense. 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. Beneath the world of land and skyIs another world; a world that IHave visited for a time, but could not stayAs long as I wanted. Karate is not just a fight,But a path to a better self,A journey through the darkest night,To a place of health and wealth. Patti Masterman A poem about being grateful that your body lasted as long as it did. We rowed, my friend and I, out past the swallowing reeds and the water lilies to where the river opened into a world of morning light and the herons voices and the musky scent of redemption and then we dipped our oars in unison and glided silently toward heaven. And at the end of that good lifewhen it came time for him to diethe old carpenter soaredinto the white light of death for the white light is where the good souls go to. Ill walk the extra mile.Not because I have to, but because its worth my while.I know that I am different, when I stand on a crowded street.I know the fullness of winning, Ive tasted the cup of defeat. Their quiet heart, a guiding light,That shone in darkness, pure and bright,A gentle voice, a calming breeze,That whispered peace, and brought us ease. Mother wore an ample apronTo cover her clean dress.Shed tell you thats what it was forIf you asked her, I would guess. Now he lives onhaving answered that resounding heavenly bellappearing at last in the Lords eternal firehouse where firemen dwell,standing as he had done in this life so proud and talljoyously and willingly responding when he finally heardthe firefighters last call. But now my shift is overIve done my very bestLast orders; its time for closureAnd time for me to rest. Poems for those who made a career moulding and shaping wood, or who simply enjoyed it as a pastime. 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? and whatever a sun will always sing is you. From hoops, to drops, to barbell hugs, She loved wearing tiny rocks, But no one can actually see her now, Shes become a walking jewellery box! When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,He was a man who used to notice such things? E ven in my darkest hours, you were always there for me. Be brave.Swim against the stream;Its more than okay. This is the end of serviceFor it and one you loveA subtle juxtapositionOf which is up above. I wish I could give you many more years.I wish I could erase away all of your tears. The rays of light filtered throughThe sentinels of trees this morning.I sat in the garden and contemplated.The serenity and beautyOf my feelings and surroundingsCompletely captivated me. As I look into your little boys eyes, I know I have to carry onso I can tell him about his mom. Were not saying that you were mean,But your wallet, seldom seen,Youd complain and mutter on,And yet were sad that you are gone. One, two, three, four,Much older now, death is at my door,Five, six, seven, eight,Even I cant escape my fate. !Farewell to conventions I give up the fight.So I leave with few words but some that are true,Bridge is a game not for me but for you. Bird feels the enchantment of his wingand in ten fine notes dispels twenty cares.Bells in the town alight with springWarble the praise of time, for he can bringthis season: chimes the merry heaven bearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. Poems for those who had a love of candles and incense, or poems that evoke candles and candlelight. *Replace Pemaquid Point with any relevant geographical location. When I speak your name,Its because you no longer can,And I want the world to knowWhat a goof I had. 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. Her Boilers with full head of steam.Cargo stowed and alley stored.Just waiting to get underway.When the last Hand comes aboard. Still, I will hold onto the memories we sharedover a cup of joe,and I will always cherishthe warmth of your loveinvigorating,comforting,and with every memoryI will feel more alive. If you can scan the skies in dreary weather,And do not feel downhearted when you say,Its dark now, and I havent got a feather,Yet you know that there are several on the day.If you can spare a handful for a stray one,And room at night to rest its weary frame.Count not the cost of what it eats, begrudge none,But hope someone will treat yours just the same. You always brought the sunshineand you brightened up our world,spreading happiness and kindnesssince you were a little girl. 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. It was a joy to watch him, for he movedAs if he were the embodiment of joy,As if the energy that animated himWere a spirit that he couldnt destroy,A force that he had learned to channelInto the grace of his somersaults and cartwheels,The beauty of his handstands. He said, Son, Ive made a lifeOut of readin peoples facesKnowin what the cards wereBy the way they held their eyesSo if you dont mind my sayinI can see youre out of acesFor a taste of your whiskeyIll give you some advice.. play up! The Cricket Bag concludes with one of his poems which Third Man hopes no one will mind him passing on. Core of my heart, my country! Here are the opening lines of 10 beautiful poems for funerals. And rumble off to clubhouse forA changing of the brew;Black vests in formationfastand tighta loud tribute. But that apron had more usesThan I could ever count.It brought in eggs and vegetablesAnd could hold a large amount. Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! 'Trees' is by far the most famous. My joy increased, I felt you growas weeks went quickly by Then one blessed day, I felt you moveA tiny butterfly. And if theres an occasionTo mention who you knewSpeak kindly of that personAs one day it will be you. I imagine you greetingThe others that I loveThat sadly left this earthFor a home with you above. crunch! From stretcher to oar with drive and draw,He speeds the boat along.All whalebone and steel and a willowy feel,That is the oarsmans song. Few things are as fleetingAs footprints in the sand;Sometimes we walk aloneAnd sometimes hand in hand. And those tear-arse young drivers who must overtakeThen go at speeds lower than I want to make.No tail-gating for me, and I dont use my horn,But I heartily wish that theyd never been bornAnd I see Hades open to eat car or van;That did it, because Im a grumpy old man. 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. Bury me in Lycra!So when I get to heavens gateSt. Poems for those who were avid football fans or skilled football players. I chat about peoples livesI help to solve their woes,I make damn sure their night will thrive,And they keep me on my toes. May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. Requiem by Robert Louis Stevenson This is a beautiful poem for dad's funeral. Poems about losing a child, especially at a young age. They laugh and have a kick around. I get to know them, one and all;Some come in every night!All shapes and sizes, big and small:I make sure theyre alright. t206 walter johnson portrait; family jealous of my success Footprints Robert Longley A beautiful verse about the importance of memories.Pemaquid Point Mary Oliver-Rotman A versatile pome about scattering ones ashes at a favourite beach destination.The Sight Of The Ocean anon A short, touching poem about the final moments spent on the beach by the sea.The Tide Recedes M. D. Hughes A short poem about the ebb and flow of life and tides, and what they leave behind. A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam, and for abrief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world:but then it flies again. Or when Sol dips his crestNeath the glorious westAnd the sunlight congeals into darkWe will skim by the seaWe will shoot oer the leaWe will follow the meteors mark. A Fleeting Image Avi Fleischer A beautiful poem about life with several artistic metaphors.Go On With The Day Silvia Hartmann A poem urging those left behind to marvel at the beauty and art within life.Importance of Art Komal Jindal A poem highlighting the deceaseds artistic achievements.We Are All Painters Ola Radka A short verse arguing that everyone paints their life with beauty and emotion. Walk a little slower Daddy,said a child so small.Im following in your footstepsand I dont want to fall. Your email address will not be published. Pray dont find fault with the man who limpsor stumbles along the road,unless you have worn the shoes he wearsor struggled beneath his load.There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,though hidden away from view,or the burden he bears, placed on your backmight cause you to stumble too.Dont sneer at the man whos down todayunless you have felt the blowthat caused his fall or felt the shamethat only the fallen know.You may be strong, but still the blowsthat were his if dealt to you,in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,might cause you to stagger too.Dont be too harsh with the man who sinsor pelt him with word or stone,unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,that you have no sins of your ownfor you know perhaps if the tempters voiceshould whisper as softly to youas it did to him when he went astray,it might cause you to stumble too. I look at the clues That are luring me there. I know an old tradesman who worked with sand and cement.Now the story I am going to tell you turned out to be his lament.His work was done to perfection built from row to row,and he was the very best brickie, the best you will ever know. The teams. We shared ourBirthdaySince I was five.My wish now will beTo have you back healthyAnd alive. A Long Cup Of Tea Michael Ashby A humorous poem about not dying, but going for a long cuppa instead.A Moment Of Tranquility Mark Gregory A poem about the inner peace found when enjoying a cup of tea.Tendrils Of Steam Mark Gregory A thoughtful poem equating the rising steam from a teacup to the spirit of life. Save The Scottish Regiments by joining them, The Fleet Air Arm and the War in Europe - 1939-1945 by David Hobbs, A basic guide to model making by Smeggers, Modelling Forum - Military & non military models, Guidance for the public on the mental health and wellbeing aspects of COVID-19, Memorable stuff from your formative years. So heres to you, from all your fans,A legend of the game;We thank you for the memories Football will never be the same. Im sorry, friends, that I cant be with you here today.If youre gathered reading this, it means Ive passed away.But if I were there, Id tell you not to shed a tear or frown.Id tell you just to simply say, Another Biker has gone down.. And we must play on. One, two, three, four,A designer now, fashions in my core,Five, six, seven, eight,Theres plenty of work still on my plate. 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. I juggle through the years, and watch them come and go,With all their hopes and fears, their joys and tears and woe,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. The first verse of Sir Henry Newbolt's 'Play the Game'? Carry On Shauna Danskin A highly poetic piece which urges mourners to look forward with hope.Dear Friends I Go anon A call to look forward and stay positive in the face of death.Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep anon A popular poem to encourage mourners not to weep, but to look ahead.He Is Gone / She Is Gone David Harkins A poem urging mourners to have fond memories of the person theyve lost.I Am Always With You anon A verse reflecting upon the idea that our lost loved ones are always with us.One At Rest anon A call to think of the deceased as simply resting. Cricket Poems - Modern Award-winning Cricket Poetry : All Poetry Poems / Cricket Poems - The best poetry on the web anolderambler Follow Nov '22 Cricket T20 sun-soaked, in a blaze of glory bowlers marauding torn grass blades ball-ridden lost amidst an everlong green morning And if I dieBefore you do,Ill go to heavenAnd wait for you. Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling.But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful dayI softly sing. There is a train at the stationWith a seat reserved just for meIm excited about its destinationAs Ive heard it sets you free. And as I grow older its life I suppose But more and more things just get right up my nose!Like young mums with their kids and their stupid wee dolliesWho chat, blocking the aisles with their damned shopping trolleys.I barge my way past, just as rough as I can,So the bitches will know Im a grumpy old man. Sadly he has passed away and I'd like to include an evocative piece, perhaps something describing a match or an aspect of the game, that I could read at his funeral. Poems for those who had a passion for stars, constellations, and the great beyond. With every brick, a story told,A bright creation, sturdy and bold,A masterpiece that broke the mould:A legacy that will never grow old. Copyright 2023 Scattering Ashes or original authors | Powered by. We think of you as yesterday,When you were fit and well.And when were asked about you,Its those things that well tell. Id like to remember all those times I hit the mark,Or when, as a friend, I was a light in the dark.Id like to recall all the times Id always be there,Despite sometimes arriving with just moments to spare. It pictures death as an old friend, rather than something to be feared, which might be of some comfort to those in mourning. as when he showed up immaculately dressed in slacks and plaid jacketand had that beautiful smile on and youd talk.Youd go to get something and come back and hed be gone. Scatter my ashes at Pemaquid Point*,Let the wind sail them home to the sea.Cradle of life, be my cradle in death,And set my spirit free. Oh me! And standing thereTill that calm song is done, at last well shareThe league-spread, quiring symphonies that areJoy in the world, and peace, and dawns one star. I . Never will I be covered in tattoosMy legs and toes shall forever stay bruised.Ill never paint or carry a tuneForever and ever, Ill wear a tutu. The draping, it is perfectNo wrinkles will you seeA symbol of a nationA reminder that were free. And I think of you walking along a headlandOf green oats in June,So full of repose, so rich with lifeAnd I see us meeting at the end of a town. Finally we sit and roll a dice,Watching each roll like hungry mice,Bobby always seems to have too much loot,And we wonder if there is some hidden in a boot;Jenny just cant get a breakand will be in gaol for three rolls sake;Uncle Ron just sits with a grin, and we wonder what is his sin;Dad just tries to moderate, But Aunt Sue is truly irate!The kids all laugh, its just a gameIts family time: will we remain sane? We have a lot to be thankful for,The memories through the years.The many times together,Full of laughter, full of tears. I discovered you tuckedAway in the shadow of the trees.Then rediscovered you on the smiles of the flowersAs the sun penetrated the petals;In the rhythm of the leavesFalling in the garden;In the freedom of birdsAs they fly searching as you do. We put out every kind of seedTo watch small birds come flitter-feed.Blue JaysRobinsChickadeesFlutter in from nearby trees. Broken beyond repair? Life is an ocean and love is a boat,In troubled water that keeps us afloat,When we started the voyage, there was just me and you Now gathered round us, we have our own crew. Im confused beyond your concept,I am sad and sick and lost.All I know is that I need youTo be with me at all cost. Hes got speed and endurance.But if you sign to fight him, increase your insurance.This kids got a left, this kids got a right,If he hit you once, youre asleep for the night.And as you lie on the floor while the ref counts 10,You pray that you wont have to fight me again. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. Her knitting needles are now silentNot a sound more will they makeBut what a wonderful lesson [name] has left usTo give always more than you take. I can sit here in my room at nightAnd dream of you out thereAnd make a blanket just for youWith tender loving care. 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. I know of tall pines,And long, waiting lines.Of the warmth of campfires,And the agony of flat tires. In the grey summer garden I shall find youWith day-break and the morning hills behind you.There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.Not from the past youll come, but from that deepWhere beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:And I shall know the sense of life re-bornFrom dreams into the mystery of mornWhere gloom and brightness meet. The sounds of all your heartbeatsAre my sweetest melodyAnd at all my heavenly bedtimeThe angels play it back to me. The memoriesI have throughoutThe yearsWill lastforever withLaughter and tears. We forged our bond with love, not tears,Linking arms, we walked as one,Now is my turn to rest a while,I have reached the final stile,But you must carry on. Verses are listed by category, and alphabetically. I pray that once Ive donned my padsAnd walked out to the square,That none of my nicks find a palm,And that I score my share. Do Not Ask Me To Remember Owen Darnell A poem about how much dementia patients need their family.Mum Alison Howard A poem about dementia originally written for a mother that can be adjusted to any relation.That You Remember Me Daniel Mark Extrom A poem urging family to always remember their lost loved ones.You Have Dementia, That Is True anon A poem reflecting the challenges that come with dementia later in life.Walk With Me Norma McNamara An uplifting poem about staying positive in the face of dementia. The, of Children's Picture Books: Childcraft,, s and An Ode to Cricket at Kings School and a couple of Storms What is cricket, the teatowel factor, ESPN Cricinfo, Ten, s about Cricket, Candlestick Press, Poetry Pamphlets. JavaScript is disabled. What is it about a Grandmother,that is such a special bond,Seeing not the years between us,but so very much beyond,For being so much older,just doesnt seem to be a case,The ages seem to melt to nought,within our own special place. Let the beer flow steadily and the wine pour right,Make the cider fizz lightly and the cocktails look bright,May the bar remain clean and the floor vomit-free,And please, let there be no trouble for me. And even though the price of time and consequences of agedenied his body its greatest love of life as wageit never quenched his firefighters soul of its wondrous and noble ragenor that intense need burning so deep in his heartto save each life and shelter from being another victory for a fires page. We rubbed our chins and scratched our heads just what did it mean?Try menacing, or angry,or something in between? This will be my final journeyI go with no regretsThe days weve had togetherHave been the very best. He was teaching what it meansTo love, honor, and obey.He wanted a strong bondThat we dont see too much today. You made me proud of who you areand all that you have done You often reached beyond the starsto find your goals and won. 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. The sails are set,the wind is east, the moorings fret.Shadows long before me lie,beneath the ever-bending sky,but islands lie behind the Sunthat I shall raise ere all is done;lands there are to west of West,where night is quiet and sleep is rest. The present only is our own,So live, love, toil with a will,Place no faith in Tomorrow,For the Clock may then be still. While working for Birmingham 2022 Commonwealth Games, I wrote a series of quintets - something of an ode for each sport at the Games. I will not cast the first stoneI have none in my handEven though your life at timesWas not how I had planned. It was a heaven houseThe books were there, and so were people whoLoved reading them, and that is all that matters. The Archers Bow Shelbie Hale An ode to the oneness between archer and bow that has now come to an end.The Arrow And The Song Henry Longfellow Wadsworth A verse touching upon the impact people have on our lives.An Arrow Chosen From A Quiver anon A slightly religious poem comparing someones life to the release of an arrow. As you played and sharedAnd helped and taughtThe laughter and love always shone through. The willowy sway of the hands awayAnd the water boiling aft,The elastic spring, the steely flingThat drives the flying craft. I gathered petals in my hand,I felt their velvet, soft and blandI saw the soft colours in my palmLooking not unlike some lucky charmI raised them to my lipsAnd whispered words for you aloneThen placed the petals upon your bed,And stood alone, this moment of dread,I turned and walked awayMy words, my love, are with you I pray. I liked a little gambleA bet I loved to placeA rush of the adrenalineI loved to watch the race, I studied all the formRunning heavy on the courseSometimes picking coloursAn eye on my favourite horse, For me it wasnt gamblingIt was a treasured way of lifeIt took my mind so far awayFrom trouble and from strife. At PoemSearcher.com find thousands of poems categorized into thousands of categories. You left withoutWarning.Gone so fast.Now all we haveAre memoriesOf our past. My big right hand, gloved and fisted, Feeling now, the throttle twisted, Crisp exhaust roar, sounding sweet, Drop the clutch, and hit the street, The revs rise sharply, grab next gear, Excitement tinged with hint of fear, Watch that tacho needle wind, All and sundry left behind. I hope I touched your lives one day,and left a treasured mark,now Ill ride on to forever,with your memory in my heart. A man who loves this land,And the beauty of its sand.I know of a springs fresh flowAnd autumns golden glow,Of a newborn calfs hesitation,And the eagles destination. A piece of satire describing the performance of Team India in the T20 world cup 2022. In Hide and Seek, he let the othersstay hidden, content to enjoythe solitude. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. Do love that Roy Harper song though. Theres not a pair of legs so thin, theres not a head so thick,Theres not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.But it can find some needful job thats crying to be done,For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one. With tearful eyes we watched him sufferAnd saw him slowly fade awayAlthough we loved him dearlyWe could not make him stay. Ill always be your mother,Hell always be your dad.You will always be our child,The child that we had. BINGO, I shout, its my timeI finally got to complete that line! Knit one purl one, knit one purl oneThe band was almost doneThe soft sound of the needles clickety clackFinish one row, turn around and go back. We light this candle that your light may always shineWith the love that you gave to us all. We are not members unfortunately. Perfect for him: right field inbaseball, an eccentrics positionthough he thought of drifting into otherfields beyond. 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. On the ashes of our Baseball Ground. The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawnand he names the sky his own. White wings will carry you and you will be flown. He cannot help but have death on his mind. Over and over againjust as he had done all his serving dayshis lips would still defiantly and valiantly speakof how he had fought so hard that enemy flamewith every ounce of strength his body could aim. One, Two, Three, Four Mark Gregory A poem ideal for the death of a former model and fashion designer.A Photo anon An intimate poem about the feelings that arise upon seeing a beautiful photo of a person. And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. 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. Both paths tell a storyThat waves may wash away;As long as we have the memoryThey live with us each day. When we kids were hurt or cryingWed run to find her lapShed wipe the falling tears awayWith a bit of apron flap. Musically, perhaps a bit sentimental, "When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease" by Roy Harper. Unique if rudyard kipling related items, Etsy. Publication date 1905 Publisher London : Simpkin Collection cdl; americana Digitizing sponsor MSN Contributor University of California Libraries Language English. - Navjot Sidhu 8 0 Add a comment And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. Amazed, I watch the tiny gymnasts all,While praying, as they flip, that none will fall.

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