These Friendship Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Friendship. These are the best examples of Friendship Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I come in from the blustery wind turning to shut the door behind me as
a gust launches into the café, sending a quick chill amongst those already seated.
I pause and take a quick look around the room. I smile as it’s not full yet but there are enough here to make the place cosy.
I notice a smattering of pictures on the wall but that isn’t why you come here. No, you come to the PoetrySoup café for the poetry and prose.
Being new to the neighbourhood I wander first towards the closest wall to catch a quick glimpse of those who have been honoured here.
I smile as I recognise a few names.
Loosening my jacket (there must be a chill in the air as I seldom wear a jacket!) I head over to the serving area to place my order. A hot chocolate to start with and a nice piece of black forest cake.
As I wait to the side I turn back into the room , taking in all the surroundings. There is an air of hominess about the place.
The worn black and white squared tiles on the floor, show scuffs and cracks.
The chunky square wooden tables and chairs with neat condiment holders to the side.
As I take my order I stop for a moment as I search for a spare table.
Amongst the conversations and laughter a phrase stands out and I turn to the table where it came from “Hvorfor Takk” (why thank you – Norwegian) I smile as that can only be Anne Lise. I recognise her Norwegian although mine is very basic and very rusty.
I make my way over to greet her and say hello.
I notice 2 other women sitting with Anne Lise and recognise PD – Linda in a flash as well as Andrea. “Hei I am Thomas and you must be Anne Lise.” I say as I arrive at the table and have caught the attention of those sitting there.
A huge grin lights the faces of those seated with my introduction.
“May I?” I ask standing before the only empty seat at the table.
“Please do.” They answer together then laugh.
Before I can all three stand and
Anne Lise introduces firstly PD Linda, we exchange a hug and our hello’s.
I recognise the next woman and jump in before Anne Lise can introduce Andrea. We hug and all sit, chatting away like school children waiting for the teacher to arrive in class.
They all turn around in their seats excitedly and start pointing to other members who are busily in conversations at their own tables.
“Over there is Kelly D, sitting with Gail and Mystic Rose” says Linda.
“…and Yvette Kelley with Bindu,” interrupts Andrea.
“Connie Moore is over there past Skat-Aux and Lucilla,’ points Linda.
I smile as heads turn at times to stare in our direction.
Standing I excuse myself for a moment as I head across to various tables to say hello to all those that have made me feel so welcome.
I share hugs with Kelly and Bindu, we share a laugh for a moment as I move onwards.
On my way around I meet Beverley Crespo and stop to share a quick conversation before completing my circle.
There are so many others in here as the place is filling up now.
Outside a change of season blows cold through a bleak neighbourhood, but inside there is a warmth in the air that comes with friendships and love.
I look around before sitting again and smile.
Spying my forest cake Andrea stands and heads to the counter.
Bringing some chocolate cake back we all laugh.
Anne Lise asks me about my Norwegian heritage and tries teaching me a few more words. I try but just can’t quite get them yet which makes her laugh. Linda asks about my writing and in turn Andrea and I smile at the bond we already have with our friendship.
Before the night is out I have shared moments with all of my wonderful friends. Kelly, Gail and Mystic as well as a laugh with Bindu who has the warmest smile. Then I got to chat with Skat and Lucilla, Connie, Yvette and Beverley with whom I shared some heartfelt words.
It’s getting late so we shuffle around and say our goodbyes.
Before heading in our own directions. Some left in pairs. Others in groups.
Some left alone but with a warmth inside that will burn brightly until next time.
Come over and drop in anytime. The PoetrySoup café is always open until late and they serve the best friendships going around.
A heart read and quoted by many in this lifetime
Battle scars that remain and yet shielded by a peace of mind
Walked several miles and traveled while teaching others how to embrace
Remains courageous, faithful and strong with persistence in any given case
Blindsided by those who are willing to love and cherish her to the end
Silence becomes her guard, her armor, her protector, and best friend
Tears of pain, and sorrow, all of which are from a past memory
Times shared, lost and gained, the negative days are history
Mental pictures are drawn from imaginations that lead her to an untraceable place
Recruit no one, for life has taught her that there is no room for more mistakes
A mind reader that has established herself to be two steps ahead
Portrays an interesting novel, a world kept secret unread
Admire her dearly for her patience, wisdom and knowledge untold
How does she continue to live life so freely far from her empty soul?
What the Quack!
I dont want my poems in Poem Zoo!
All that I am
I could dye my hair to please you
Yet I won't
A little mascara might
Make me attractive
Although the value of my gift
Cannot be measured in wrappings
I will not sing For you
But create a harmony and hope for consonance
And I will dance With you
To the melody of our song
All that I am
I could paint you as my knight in armor
But fantasies vanish with sunrise
We could play together
Yet games must end
And the unity of the game
All that we are
And acceptance of each
Written by Carolyn Devonshire
Carolyn Devonshire-Who is she?
A great author,a widower who loved her husband so much,and a daughter who loved her father just as much.She is one of my closests friends,can easily be called family...and so lucky I am to have met her.Carolyn was one of the first soupers who always left me a comment of encouragement when i first started writing here.Our friendship grew stronger through time and so our love for poetry.
Why do i love this poem so much?
This poem from Carolyn's first book 'Visions of Devonshire'definitely speaks to my soul.
The value of who we are,isn't about how we appear to be,it isn't about making ourselves perfect,nicer,It isn't about changing our identity..Its about being who we really are.
Carolyn's gift cannot be measured in wrappings'..Its her inner beauty which makes her shine.Her friendship ,love and loyalty to others is what makes her so special.
Its not all about the outer beauty of oneself,but what is on our inside which
really makes us who we are.
The knight in shining armor,the Fantasy,the dream might vanish with sunrise,
the game will end too,leaving all that was in yesterday behind,but finding who we
are once again,and accepting each other for who we were and always will be.
Thankyou Carolyn for this poem,
Your gift lies within you.. It cannot be measured in wrappings..So true!
and the biggest thankyou is sent your way today for just being you..
Dear Gwendolyn..thanks for the brilliant idea.... Big hugs... Charma
I washed my white lace tablecloth and hung it out to dry
The bleach did the best it could-it was worth the try
'Though no one else can see, the stain still remains
As old as time itself
Stubborn as mildew rot
One false step, one careless word forever etched in time
Travels the universe, endlessly
In search of a place to rest
What would I not give to reverse that step
To retrieve that hateful word
Tread lightly in your daily walk, o'er hills and valleys in between
Plot well your steps and weigh your words
So you'll have nothing to regret, like the
Unkind words carved deeply upon your heart
I wash my white lace tablecloth again, again and again!
A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.
Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.
“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it? You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.
“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”
The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.
Who was this man? She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.
But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.
To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.
She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.
She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”
*Based on real events I experienced.
I first read this gripping narrative as an entry for my contest & I
felt chills when I read this-& to know that it is based on real events makes this even more amazing for me. I placed this 2nd place in my first ever contest :D.
For me (& I think to so many others) Carolyn has a real gifted pen-- she can write just about anything & truly evoke emotions within you. She writes about realities of her life & she can take you with her. So Carolyn, continue writing your gems & we'll continue enjoying them :)
Also, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments, they're truly heartfelt & that's one of the things I love about you. Hugs & love!
I'm running late, they will be waiting...
A busy day...so much to do..
I should be going...the clock is ticking
I'll stick my head in, a quick hello
no need to linger, ...and then I'll go
I grab my keys, and make excuses...
She seems confused....unduly quiet
Oh dear, it's useless...
"You must try a piece of pound cake. Made fresh this morning"...
"I'll put some tea on, no need to hurry"
(The clock is glaring.....I need to scurry....)
(My life is busy....this day's been crazy)
"I must not stay long..... a late appointment".... "I have to go"...
(Oh dear, it's clear, she tries to hide, sheer disappointment!)
She taps her cane, across the floor, her smile is kind...
She walks behind me, to the door
I have started to say good-bye, my hand on the knob
"Want to see my violets?" she asks quickly
How could I refuse??
We walk to the screened porch near the back of the house.
Sitting proudly in the sunlight of the northern exposure
Eleven small pots of glorious blooming African violets,
Several shades of pink, purple and blue
The most beautiful violets I have ever seen...
I express my sincere admiration
Her anxious look melts, and turns to delight...
And happiness and pleasure has taken years away from her eyes...
I ask her what is her secret to growing such beauties....?
"Yes...please tell me"......"Oh.....leftover coffee grounds? How interesting".....
"Please tell me more...."
We sit together the rest of that afternoon on the porch...
Have tea, .........and the most delicious lemon yellow pound cake.....
And as we talk .....
.... I can't help but notice....her eyes are beautiful
wise, and beautiful....and the color of violets...
Mornings are dreadful time in life unless waking beside gorgeous woman hopefully
a not married one husbans can be such a downer.
And when ya wake to a warm beautiful creature by your side.
And the first thought that comes to your mind is i wonder whats for breakfest.
Then ya probaly cant read the menu to start with and desserve
to have a oversized weight lifter re arrange your ribs.
Im a southern man once means several things non of which means im normal.
And this morning finds my yerning for a trip and widespread mischief.
My amigo had vanished after are trip south of the boarder I remember saying
to myself as i watched him running naked across the dessert being chased
by the flying monkeys he was surley seeing after his consumption of a foreign substance
There goes a fine american.
I would have ran after him but but i didnt want thoose things to turn there attention to me
I herd they had a thing for southern actscents.
And theres nothing worse than a bunch of horney flying monkeys trust me
Ive delt with this problem befor.
and being it was happy hour i knew my slightly insane amigo would understand
in all his naked glory.
Besides I left him some sneakers and a sixpack.
And kept his credit card for safe keeping.
Naked men have no place to keep credit cards and I figured he was in no state to handle
So as i sit behind the wheel ready to to get lost in the madness of fast food and
the ant hill of insanity that is wall mart i turn my thoughts to vegas.
For where would a lost nude slightly insane person run to and feel at home.
I had turn the music up to drown out the sound of whoever was in the trunk.
I figured if i had put sombody in there in a drunken moment.
It had to be for a good reason.
And so with slightly hungover mindset are road begins.
and so with that do the games also.
And i figured hanging around with a cops wife wasnt the smartest idea.
That and im allergic to bullets.
My muse and 16 year old spirtiual advisor had phoned me to say that.
I probaly needed to Invest in the spirt of Jack Daniels today.
And hey she had went to church more than once so who was I to argue.
With a five five spitfire by the name of tinker.
so with A unknown companion in the trunk not helping my hangover i was off
to the races Untill next time kiddies.
Adios and im off to find my amigo.
. "Listen first,.....to the voice in your head"
Mmmmm, …if we can catch the waitress’s eye, we should order more iced tea…
Can hardly believe it… Joan is still complaining about her in-laws….
Peg interrupts, excusing herself to go to the ladies room
What was that about Barb’s husband burning breakfast?
It must have been funny.., the way everyone is laughing…
My eyes wander to the window….
I see some geese in the sky
Heading north...oh my,…summer has gone so quickly…
I must get the family together and go out to the lake one more time
We'll take a picnic, and let the children feed the geese...
I'll take a loaf of bread just for that,.......
But we'll have to watch the children..
Last time one goose chased Suzanna, and she fell down, ....
…made her cry,…poor thing
It is so beautiful on the east shore….hopefully the water isn’t too cold
Maybe the children can still enjoy a swim…yes…we must do that soon….
Oops, she’s back from the Ladies......
I'd better scoot over, to make more room,.....
Hmm..looks like she's done something different with her hair...
Joan is still chattering about her weekend with the in-laws.....
How I long to be back at the lake again….on the beach in the sun….
Oh there…outside the window…a whirlwind has gathered up a few leaves
Already rust and brown…edges curled with the touch of autumn
Yes, ….summer has gone so quickly…
.... .... .... .... .... ....
For the Contest: "A Poem, Please" Sponsored by Constance La France
By Carrie Richards
Reporting live on the soup, with Americas MOST. WANTED. POETS.
Standing here with our host John,
With an exclusive update on criminal poets, captured and on the run.
Switching over to you John,. "Thank you P.D., lets give thanks to all the
P.M.W. tipsters, and our lovely F.B.I. agent Andrea Dietrich (Andy) & U.S.
Marshal Shirley Harrison (S.H.)
Capturing 1 infamous fugitive Nikko Palmario, a comment crusader going contest crazy.
Christopher Brantley, still at large U.S. Marshall (S.H.) says, "This brilliant fugitive leaves no
trace." A dangerous poet posting comments longer than his poetry. Leaving a distinction of
excellence in any short form. P.M.W.tipsters Demand to be brought down to poetic justice.
P.M.W. Tip, led Marshall (S.H.) to the most notorious blond bombshell on the soup.
Captured on her vacation Linda Marie Bariana, lost control of her blond moment.
Paralyzing her laptop with sand. Covering to other crimes with to much poetry rhyme.
Her # 1 crime, entering a dark poet contest, to bad for this SWEET HEART who shines.
Wanted in all nations Lynette Chachere a realistic poetic criminal against reality & dreams.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says"Our sweet Lynn, carries a weapons against all Enigma wonders."
A shameful crime to bring down a poets spirit with an intervene of her intense poetry.
F.B.I. Most wanted poetic lunatics, Billy the Kidster, with a Mental Poet Disorder.
A maniac on the rampage, a poet who lost it, with a crime slamming himself.
F.B.I. Most wanted viscous fugitive Christopher D. Aechtner, alias Vomiticus Grammaticus.
This former Canadian elusive bad boy, topping the hot list, a harmless poetic threat.
Dakarai Cobbs, a 30 year old soups spot robbing thug. F.B.I.(Andy) Says "We offer 1 million
For the capture of this accused space invader aka the Sonnet man.
A poetic gang banger posting out of control, with a drive by of 130 hits in less than a month
Nathan Dilts, at large with the biggest search in poet history.
A terrorizing poet implanting each poet with frightening thoughts and images so twisted.
Making his followers absorb his evil poetic plots, while connecting center of dots.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says he is a mastermind with explosive & twisted thoughts.
Marshall (S.H.)Says "there is nothing we won't do to take his Poet License away.
((sorry no room for the Poet Destroyer))
Back to you P.D. "thank you John, there you have it soupers a few top criminal poets."
Reporting live on the soup P.D., all across the world enjoying our poetry security