Funerals can truly be augmented by a poem that is apt and fitting for the person you have just lost. The following list of funeral poems about horse racing are perfect for those who enjoyed a day at the races, or a flutter at the bookies.
A Day At The Races
by Graeme Cook
It’s 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 jockey’s facing,
That whips me to action, for another day of racing.
Nor is it the game of chance, that punting always brings,
From TAB and bookies, and bar-room betting rings,
The heady smell of fine manure, turf so lush and green,
Fine dressed folk and superb horseflesh, making up the scene.
Maybe the glorious legends, from Phar Lap to the Diva,
That leaves me so infected, with the flush of racing fever,
The buzz as they are mustered, from the starting gate they lurch,
With the Form Guide as my bible, the racetrack as my church.
I’ve seen them win, lose and draw, rush by in charging blur,
Neck and neck, nose to nose, to the photo we refer,
The weight is right, the track is fair, the sun will always shine,
As once more past the Judges, and I cross that Finish Line.
The Last Race
by Barbara Ogilvie
I liked a little gamble
A bet I loved to place
A rush of the adrenaline
I loved to watch the race
I studied all the form
Running heavy on the course
Sometimes picking colours
An eye on my favourite horse
For me it wasn’t gambling
It was a treasured way of life
It took my mind so far away
From trouble and from strife
So now it’s time for resting
I’ve passed the winners line
Think of me, a winning ticket
And how I lived this life of mine.
The Music Of The Morn
by Fran Cleland
While most of us are fast asleep
As the moon begins its fall,
And drifts it’s gentle light
Across the clock upon the wall;
There’s others who have left their beds
There’s hoof beats in the dawn,
And out upon the training track
The music of the morn.
The frost lays thick upon the ground
And shines upon the roofs,
And all around, the lovely sound
A thousand steel shod hoofs,
A scraping here, a snorting there
A jockey’s curse, a whinny;
A trainer feeling tender legs
“Damn, that colt’s gone shinny.”
The flaring nostrils show soft red,
A roll, hose, scrape and lead,
The rug thrown on, and off back home
To munch the morning feed
And as they leave, some more come in
While the sun turns red at dawn
To the clatter of a thousand hoofs,
The music of the morn.
So when I die I hope that I
Can chat with old Saint Peter,
And that dear chap would understand
That nothing could be sweeter
For me, to go where the horses run
Down a track that’s long and worn,
To hear once more, the glorious sound;
The music of the morn.
Racing Through My Eyes
by Henry Birtles
Some love it for mingling with their upstanding crowd
The drinking, the laughter, the gossip so loud
They arrive at the track wearing yesterday’s shopping
For racing you say, more a spot of Box hopping.
A trip to the Ring, it’s all part of the game
to lay down a tenner on the horse with the name
that sounds like a winner, a worthwhile bet
but tarry no longer, we’ll miss the jet set.
Ambitious new money tries hard to compete
to break into the circle, become the elite
By trying too hard, their case is rejected
Those subtle old judgements, still roundly respected.
So to the gamblers, the men here for business
The track shows no mercy, their wives less forgiveness
No time for a banter, or a welcoming kiss
For they come here to deal, this arena their office.
A broad demographic, some salt of the earth
Who with them they bring passion, character and worth
The owners, the trainers, the jockeys, the stride
the horses, the strappers, the dreams and the pride.
And so now to me, what does it all mean
for me not the fashion, or the high social scene
but the thundering hooves pounding down on the earth
The grace and the power of these kings of the turf.
When The Riding’s Done
by J. P. Gorham
You know I’ll always ride here
even when my riding’s done
In the whisper of the pre-dawn
or the final burst of sun
At the corners of transition
where the changes are obscured
I will ride and if you see me
it’s because our love has endured.
You know I’ll never leave you
even when I’m far away
In the moments when the words stop
and your breath gets in the way
I will softly say I love you
barely louder than the breeze
So I hope you gently listen
to my voice between the trees.
You know I’ll try to hold you
even when my arms can’t grasp
Just to try to bring you comfort
when your voice lets out a gasp
The feelings that we share here
will transcend just what we see
And my horse will still be waiting
right beneath our favourite tree.
You know you are forever
but it’s easy when we’re here
Just a hand away from holding
and a hug away from fear
So you have to make a promise
that your hope will never run
And you know I’ll always ride here
even when my riding’s done.
To access our full list of funeral poems, click here.
All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. Should you require a celebrant for your ceremony, be it a funeral, a wedding, a naming ceremony or something else, feel free to get in touch. 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.
