Clarke, Arthur Beresford

Clarke, Arthur Beresford
27 Feb
2017

Arthur Beresford Clarke, age 70, affectionately known as “Soap” of 2nd Avenue Durants Village, Holders Hill, St. James, Son of the late Arthur Clarke, Husband of the late Julianne Humphrey-Clarke , Father of Shannon Clarke, Joyann, Karen and Deon, Step-father of Corey Humphrey, 

Grandfather of Amani Clarke-Grant, Donte and Morgan, Brother of Nancy Charleston, Sandra Clarke, Betty and the late Wesley Clarke, Cousin of Shirley Clarke and many others, Uncle of Pamela Charleston and many others, Relative of the Clarke, Blenman and Charleston families, Friend of Brooks, Ricky, Ms. Wilson, Avril and Livingston.....


The funeral of Arthur Beresford Clarke leaves the Tranquility Chapel of Two Sons Funeral Home, Stadium Road, Bush Hall, St. Michael, on Friday February 24th 2017, at 1:00 p.m. for the Western Light Church of the Nazarene, Oxnards, St. James, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:30 p.m. for a Home Going Service. The Cortege will then proceed to the St. James Cemetery for the Interment.

The Organist is asked to attend.

By special request no white or mourning colours should be worn.

Floral arrangements can be sent to the Tranquility Chapel of Two Sons Funeral Home no later than 12:45 p.m., on Friday.

Condolences can be emailed to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..

  • Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
    Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightening they Do not go gentle into that good night.   Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.   Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.