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Narrative Friendship Poems | Narrative Poems About Friendship

These Narrative Friendship poems are examples of Narrative poems about Friendship. These are the best examples of Narrative Friendship poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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A Story to Tell

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?
Pace, G INK-U-SCRIPT


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My Favorite Devonshire

  What the Quack!
I dont want my poems in Poem Zoo!
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My White Lace Tablecloth

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!
~*~
10/09/2007


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HAVE I TOLD YOU LATELY THAT I LOVE YOU

Recent events in my life have made me think about love
 and saying the words ‘I love you.’
My father was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer
Every time I see him and mum I say how much I love them both
  - one day soon I will never be able to say those words to them again.

The words ‘I love you.’ We use them with our partners in a romantic way, 
maybe we don’t say it often enough and just take it for granted that they 
know we love them.
I say ‘I love you’ to my son – maternal love – to me it is simply the best feeling 
in the world 
Close family – we love them but in a different way to that of our partners 
and children.

Darren Watson’s unexpected recent illness has made me appreciate how 
lucky I am to have wonderful friends and I just want to let people know 
how very special they are to me.

You may have noticed that I always sign off my comments
 with ‘Hugs Jan xx’ – two expressions of love
 and we all need a hug and a kiss from time to time.

Jan Allison
22nd August 2014

I have reformatted the poem a bit so you can see my words in full


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My Favorite Devonshire

Myself 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 Accept 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 Will dissolve Leaving you And me 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


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My Favorite Devonshire

Past-Life Nightmare
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.
--Carolyn Devonshire

-------------------------------------------------------------------

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!


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And The Road Begins?

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 
money.

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.


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Lonely Violet Eyes

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...

___________________________________________________________________


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When The Bottle Lets You Down

 
Can I ask a question of you my friend?
   Have you started drinking from the bottle again?
You look so down it’s clear to see.
   What you really need is to be set free.
The answer to your problems they won’t be found.
   Coming from that bottle you just put down.
You don’t bend your elbow you bend your knees
   Trust me just once He’ll hear your pleas.
You’re hurting so, I can feel your pain.
   There’s a way out, and it’s so very plain.
I was where you’re at not long ago.
   But I had someone who wouldn’t let go. 
Now I want to be that someone that you can turn to.
   Help to guide your path and the things you do.
Are you really proud of your life thus far?
   Drowning your sorrows in some dim lit bar.
How many times were you too drunk to care?
   Well I can relate, yeah I’ve been there.
You thought you lost it all, that’s just not true.
   If you trust in Jesus I guarantee you, He’ll lead you through.
We all make excuses for the things we do.
   He’s heard every excuse there is a million times or two.
Quit trying to blame Him, He didn’t put you there.
   You know I’m right, But you just don’t care.
Listen little bud, you’re like a son to me.
   I care for you very much, I just want you to see.
I know I led you wrong for many, many years.
   Now you’re carrying all my demons and most of my fears.
I know you care for me a lot, that’s very plain to see.
   Now turn it over to Our Savior, let Him be the one to set you free.
                   


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Daniel the Conqueror

In a land far away was a family with two boys
The oldest loved sports the youngest only toys.
You should be like your big brother the father would always say
It’s time for you to toughen up and leave this childish play.
Yes Quinton was a fighter, loved games of every sort,
But nothing did he want to do more than play a sport.
Daniel he was meek and mild a softie like his mother
He hated when his dad would say, “Be more like your brother.”
Hurt and down he took a walk up on a rocky hill
Throwing stones hard at the water, he let his anger spill.
Why doesn’t my dad love me? Into the air he cried,
Kicking rocks with fists curled, tight against his side.

Meanwhile on an island far across the sea
A leader spoke to the animals, almost like a plea.
Legends say a leader from mainland shall appear 
A strong and faithful warrior, a boy that has no fear.
How shall we find this man child? Asked the animals out loud,
We’ve never seen a human said a yearling really proud.
The Albatross said strong and brave, I will bring him here
I know he isn’t very far, I feel his presence near.
The bird flew out across the sea searching high and low
Wondering where he’d find him, the boy they needed so.
There; high up on a hill side a warrior stood so tall,
He knew it was the chosen one, for he could hear him call.

Now in a flash he swooped down, grabbed Daniel real fast
The albatross was thinking, I’ve found the boy at last.
Daniel he was screaming as he dangled by one leg
Flying over water yelling let me go I beg.
As they neared the island, the animals all gathered round
Watching as the big white bird, let their hero down.
Welcome said a racoon, we’ve waited here so long
Today we’ll have a party, let’s fill the woods with song.
They sat all night telling horrible tales of an enemy they feared
And all felt a little safer now that Daniel had appeared.
I’m not the hero you think I am, there’s been a bad mistake
And a little bunny looked at him, you must be for my sake.

Daniel fell in love that night with all his new friends here
None of them made him feel bad, they made him feel so dear.
For their sakes I must beat this foe, an enemy, a disgrace 
Making sure he never comes back to this peaceful place.
For days they planned together, what everyone would do
And when the varmint showed up they stood up to him too.
Instead of running and hiding, they stood together tight 
The badger lost the battle and ran home fast that night.
The wise old owl thanked Daniel for ridding the beast at last
Conquering their worst enemy, who now is in the past.
On wings of love the hero left his friends on the islands strand
When Daniel went back home that day, he had become a man.

The moral of my story? With a little love and trust,
Everyone can be a hero, we are more than clay and dust.
 
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.18.2014
Carol Eastman’s Contest: 
Fable to the Rescue 
1st


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Do The Math

On the banks of a river under the nest of a dove
He looked into the eyes of the girl that he loved

She was simply as beautiful as beautiful could be
He was bitter as the salt, which came from the sea

But something about him she could not resist
Perhaps it was the tender way that he kissed

They were truly as happy as two kids could be
Sitting there on bank under the shade of the tree

Sharing all of their dreams and all of their hearts
Not knowing their parents would soon tear them apart

She told him if I can’t have you no man will have me
Those words that she spoke were true as could be

She turned to God and he turned to dope
I guess each of them needed something to cope

She became a Nun a beautiful heavenly flower
He became a convict with a shot callers power

Throughout their lives as the story is told
Each held the other more valuable then gold

Friends to the end regardless of the path
Its all very simple if you just do the math


Written for Elaine's contest


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Lunch With The Girls

.                           "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…
Oh well…
----
          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: Summer's End


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Reporting Live across the World

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


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Tea is Served

In a lovely corner of her garden, 
 a trellis was curled with rose climbing vines,
  and something enchanting, had been designed, 
     from an ordinary day on a warm afternoon.

Tea would be served, with her large knuckled hands, 
to a bouquet of her friends, and some neighbors of mine,
by the most gentile’ lady, I have ever known…

She made it seem like days of old, when decorum was in fashion, 
      before composure, and poise,.. had become scorned and cold
          where propriety still mattered, as precious as gold.
                                                      ~
Lilting voices would chatter like the birds on the wing.
Ringing with laughter,  across fragrant grass, 
Flower frocked ladies, around a few scattered tables. 
Linens and laces, under ashes and maples.
Silver coifed hairdos, with apple cheeked faces, 

                    And me?   There I'd sip.... quite out of my place... 
                      watching it all, from the cool dappled shade.
                                                      ~
There were delightful surprises to meet the eye…
Delicate confections, cucumber sandwiches,
made by her hand, just for the occasion.
Fragrant branches, covering the veranda.…
Rose petal blossoms, painted on china.  
The most beautiful tea set, oh, how divine it was! 
Envious eyes, covetously pined for it!

She wore a floppy garden hat, a dress of mauve, and there she sat.
Her weathered skin, her cheeks of rouge... a smile to love,...you would have too,...
She had lived a war, and more than one.....iron strong, a generous heart
Knowing eyes, and sparkling wit, 
She would hold your hand in hers and smile,... listen well, of that I'm sure
  and then would sip and chat awhile, of this and that…
                                                         and you would learn of love somehow
                                                      ~

I sipped my tea, and watched it all, and never thought of future things. ~

For now I sit here all alone…the chatter gone, the birds have flown.
Where once her charm, her love of life
the grand old ways, have slipped away…gone are those days, she loved so well.

Soon after, in the autumn chill…when word soon spread that she was ill 
      I was away, and never knew.….I hope, oh Lord, she was not alone ….

And looking back …I think of that….. and how strange the fact….. how odd it is…..
that something owned by someone grand, a china cup, so delicate, 
                                                                                 so fragile in the hand,
can last beyond the grave...intact,….
                    although a dear, enchanting friend, her life would have to end…..

                                                     ~ ~


_______________________________________________________
For Contest Sponsored by Just Archaic Poet:  Song choice- "Tea For Two"


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Just A Li'l Drop In A Big Ocean



As Dr. Sharma recently quoted “I'm just a li'l drop in a great big ocean” AREN'T WE ALL! But some rise above the rest and are remembered Some are content to be just one of the crowd It's a matter of what we're comfortable with Some just don't realize the impact they make On those they come in contact with And how much they influence others To lead a better life and become a more loving person There are so many unique people here on the Soup That this most definitely applies to They are the sweetest, most loyal friends That anyone could ask for They make my life complete and a treasure There are no words to describe how their friendship Has made my life happy and content LOVE TO YOU ALL!!! © Jack Ellison 2014


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First time at PoetrySoup Cafe

As I enter, I look around taking in how the seating is arranged.  Not merely looking for a place to sit and rest or eat. I am looking for a place to study. No, not from a book or laptop or tablet. But from those around me. 

I look for a seat that will set my back to a wall. Not because I am afraid of whats behind me. But merely because if a wall is behind me or better yet a corner I will know that I have a view of everyone. If I can view everyone it is less likely  that I will miss the story they have to tell. Everyone here has a story to tell and I for one would rather not miss a single one.

I believe that all stories have merit. Whether it be to entertain or teach a lesson. All stories deserve to be heard. That is why I am here. That is why I came.

I came to listen and observe. To hear every story. To be entertained and Learn.

I may even tell my tale. Maybe even a story or two. Though I am not as eloquent or well versed as others here I am new and I am learning so bear with me as I will with you.

As I spot the seat I am looking for I walk over and before I can sit I am welcomed by Thomas Simunsen and several others. I apologize for not getting their names because my memory is crap. They laugh and I immediately know I like here, especially when I find out they serve beer.

I order my beer and I sit down.

I listen and I drink.

I sit there until closing time. Never did really want to leave.

But leave I must and come back I shall.

As I walk home I hear my stomach grumble. I realize I never ordered any food. I just sat there nursing my beer all night, listening as everyone told their stories.

I may not have eaten any food while I was there but I realize I am leaving with a warmth and fullness of spirit that will bring me back for more.


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The Allison Ellison Bond



Found a new friend, her name is Jan Though we live an ocean apart The bond between us is as strong as any I've known Our names are similar, our love of life is similar We both love to laugh Feel so blessed that our paths have crossed These kind of friendships are unique They don't come along everyday When they do, we must hold on to them for dear life Never ever let go Life is a very short melodrama Must remember to make the most of every moment That's why a friendship like ours Is so very very important Blessed is the Allison/Ellison bond © Jack Ellison 2014


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BUTIKING PASAS

Sa kisame ng bahay, itong si Butiking Pasas
Ay minsang nakipaglaro sa kanyang mga KAIBIGAN
Kanyang inaliw, mga pakpak na kumikinang, pumapagaspas
Binola ang bawat lipad na kay panglaw
Habang sa isip, may nabubuo’t nakaambang kalokohan
Tila naiinggit sa kanilang kakayahan

Nang hindi na sila nakatingin, tumalikod lang saglit
Nagsimula ng ibuka kanyang mapinsalang bunganga’t bibig
Nilantad matatalas na dila, na may malaasidong laway
Na tutunaw unti-unit sa kanilang katauhan

At sa isang kisap mata, dila’y pumulupot, sumalaksak, 
Nilunok, nilamon sila ng buong-buo, walang kamalay-malay 
Sila’y kinitil, nalinlang ng mga matatalim na SALITA,
Kawawang mga KAIBIGAN…
Kanilang magagandang LAMANG LOOB…
Tuluyan ng nawasak, nalusaw


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Broken promises /Lost Whispers

There She was,all by herself in the room,lying on the bed,
The dim lit lamp reflecting on the white linen curtains,
making enough light for her to read,but she was not reading.
Her thoughts were carried so far away,on a journey filled 
with velvet ebony skies,and dancing diamond twinkling stars.
There She was,lost in awakened dreams,thinking of him.
Thinking of his  gentle whispers in the scented breeze,
thinking of his fragrant cheek brushing her own,
as her perfumed lips evoke deep passion,as they kiss.
She loved him as She had never loved no other,He adored her.
They were sweetheart lovers of forever,they lived the promise,
The promise of having only each other,They were so happily in lust,
in  total care and understanding,They were so much in love.
She molded his face in her fantasies and smiled,but then she cried,
Yes,they were so much in love,but that was Yesterday,
that was more far than yesterday.Today the spell was broken,
Today She was alone,Today,He was in a woman's arms,
the arms which were not hers,and today he kissed the lips,
someone elses lips,The soft spongy lips which were not her own.
The smile faded from her face,and a warm tear drop brushed her cheek,
wetting her feathered pillow,the dream was over,all left,a memory,
a ring still on her finger ,a reminder of him,a reminder of when they hugged,
of when they loved,a sweet sad memory of the broken promise.
She put off the light,trying to sleep,Somehow she could still hear the engine 
sound of his car,passing through the winding path,passing so close to her 
green painted antique door,so close to her heart,yet, so far away.
She stood up from her bed and went to shut the wooden refined window,
She couldn't shut it, somehow she couldn't do it,and She had to put on the 
light again,somehow she needed him to know, that little light would always flicker,
and somehow she still wondered,If his burning flame would ever die,If deep down ,
in the lost whispers of his soul,He still lived up to the promise,their promise,
the promise of  being in love forever more.


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Beneath A Cold Jeweled Sky

Standing together on the upper deck
she clings to my arm, as if I might hold her up…
I am too young for a woman, too old for a child
But I feel so calm, ….strangely so…, 
And although she’s older than me, by far
The terror I see in my mistress’s face
brings a sense of surreal, that could bring a smile
if not for the horror surrounding us now

 
The news of an iceberg had rapidly reached our ears
It spread like fire, from lip to lip
Those ghostly white faces, wild looks of despair
Desperation unfamiliar, to the privileged faces
My aristocratic companions of this ill-fated ship

All through my tender years, as her handmaid, fulfilling her whims
wiping her tears, mending her hems, fixing her tea
laying her clothes, drawing her bath…wondering,  wondering
did she know who I am?  Did she see beyond, my uniform
The worn out girl,…. the hireling....?

~~
     We are near the small boats, only room for one more
     Her life jacket, seems so out of place in the crowd 
     Over her sparkling jewels, the fur-lined coat

     But suddenly, she looks so oddly serene
     She….removes her fur coat, and wants to exchange
     Her fur for my old tweed….I don’t understand….
     She slips me the life jacket…and squeezes my hand
     Helps me adjust,…..and then quickly pushes….
     And into the small boat….I’m crushed with the masses

     The last time I see her….she smiles and she waves
     For a moment as equals….so boldly brave
     She knows what I’d longed for….what I hoped and I dreamed
     She knows who I am, she knows and she cares
     She is staying aboard, it is too late for her...
     And I scream! Oh my God!.....

               I can’t hold back my tears..….




_________________________________________
Inspired By Tracie's Contest: "My Heart Will Go On and On"


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1-15-10 look into my eyes

i caught your eyes on me. dont bother to look away. ive already noticed. i wish i was 
brave enough to stare back. it doesnt bother me, just makes me curious. what are you 
thinking? or are you just observing? try to figure me out. but you wont. because youve 
only met the imposter. you havent stopped to look into my eyes.


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Dedicated To

I found these amazing and talented...........Poets
In this friendly forum.  They......................Are
Funny, happy, sad and so.........................Special
They are more perceptive than most.... .....People
Some pen haikus and there are many.... ...Who
Craft beautiful sonnets or ballads.  They.. ..Use
Their art to comfort and inspire with...........Words
Some write in rhythm, some in free verse.. As
They try new forms and methods in............Their
Pursuit of literary perfection with new.........Tools.

I am proud to be associated with these.......Dedicated
Artisans and am very pleased....................To 
Find that my poems are admired by............HGarvey
                                                               Daniel, Esquire




My first End Line Poem


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Pineapples and Lemons

I'm Sweet
You're Sour
I'm In Cans 
You're In Bags
We're Perfect
The Perfect Match
You're Presence Blinds Me
Yellow Coating
You Burn My Eyes
But That's Okay
You Make Good Lemonade
Your Sour Taste
My Sweet Flavor
The Perfect Combination
It's Out Of This World
You're The Best Squeeze Yet

Oh Pineapple 
Words From The Heart
You M ake The Best Pina Colada
Sweet and Devine
Squeeze All You Want
Honey You're Mine
You Make Me Drool
Just The Presence Of You
I'm The Bag You Unwrap
I'm The Sour Of YOur Sweet
Beautiful Leaves
You're My Squeeze
Honey Bee
PIneapples and Lemons
Perfect Combination


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Tradition

Within these walls…
Fragrant aura of comfort
Freshly washed baby hair and sweet breath;
Passed around in soft pink pajamas
Laughter and wit from older minds;
Even though the stories are well used
Awkward ramblings of youngsters;
Still testing their wings
Warm delicious wafts of seasoned meat
And sugared pies
From a kitchen full of women;
Sharing recipes and secrets while sipping Chardonnay
Rambunctious giggles from upstairs;
Playing children’s games in pretty clothes
While piles of coats, hats, and purses
Sleep soundly on the guest room bed;
Along with one gray tabby cat
Crisp fallen leaves dance with shimmering snowflakes,
The first of the season
In a chilly November breeze
Just outside the door;
Painted a vibrant red
Illuminated by glowing amber post lamps;
Stalwart sentinels for our
Tradition… 
Within these wonderful walls


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Blinded by "Beauty"

If only she had known.
Then maybe she would have saved you.
Maybe she wouldn't have turned her back.
So that you wouldn't have to face this all alone.
She swore to him that this would never end.
Another lie, if only he had seen this coming.
The water overflowing.
A beating heart lying exposed.
Left to die alone.
And she turned her back on you.
With zero regards for the consequences.
She only thought about herself.
And the shadows casted so thin at first.
Leading to an overwhelming darkness.
What  could he have done to prevent this?
Where'd she go when he needed her the most? 
Another question going unanswered.
Just look what you've done.
You place the blame on everyone but yourself.
Trying to cover up all of these lies.
Your jaded veil, a facial disguise.
You left him for the vultures to feast upon.
Oh my God.
He would give anything to escape this shattered place you made his world.
Will he ever make it out alive? 
He's craving something new.
Something to open his eyes.
Sick of being drowned by a traitor in a once beautiful disguise.
I'm coming for you tonight.
You'll never make this out alive.
I'm sick of your bull####.
Unimaginable lies.
This is the death of you.
You've forgotten what it's mean to breathe.
He let you get to his heart.
He let you wrap your hands around his soul.
But now his life is in my hands, and I will break the chains of your control.
You'll never make it out alive.
You'll never You'll never make this out alive.
Is this the end?
The end of you?
I hate to say I told you so.
Don't tell me this is not what you want.
I'm taking ahold of this.
I stand in front of you, you've become a mute.
Not saying a word.
Coward.
I will set my ground.
And without a sound.
I'll pull the trigger to save a life.
He will now make this out alive.


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Autumn Evening

Tonight I found friends
Not in human form but;
In the land, sky and nature.
I strolled along a country road,
Taking in what the 
Good Lord bestowed.
The sunshine, green grass,
Birds of the air.
One could almost hear
Our Father's voice in the
Gentle breezes.
A deer ambled 
Out on the road,
Not noticing I was there.
Thoughts of Him that put
Us both there.
The locust sang their
Songs in the trees.
The glorious afterglow
Of the evening, as the
Sun bids a farewell 
Good Night.
Oh, thank you Lord 
For friends like these.


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Lover's Love Lesson


You’re the one who taught 
me the words “I love you”
without the fear of losing you
even though my biggest fear 
was that I always lose people close to me
you broke down the barriers
just to reassure me,
that we’re in this together…

You are the one that
always came back 
after being chased away
after being stepped on
you’re the one 
who embraced me when
we were both scared about the unknown
when were both scared of the fight that lay ahead 

You are the one who 
endured the pain with laughter
to stop me from worrying,
even on your worst days, you hugged me
and said “It is okay, I’ll be okay”
that’s all it took for me to know
that you’d never leave me
even apart, we’re still one…


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Dear Friend

From my heart to yours,
you are a precious man,
from the very first time,
I read your work,
it was not hard to understand.
The trials you endured,
the pain, and the tears,
locked away,
you found your Saviour so near.
Let no man or woman,
who dwells on this earth,
spit on a heart so sweet,
all I can say,
is they have the nerve.
Walk tall my friend,
may the wind,
always push you forward,
and pray for the lost,
and the foolish cowards.
I don't know what was said,
or who is to blame,
forgive them dear friend,
and ask for the same.
We as a people,
have a journey of our own,
each, and everyone,
should know right from wrong.
Continue on your path,
you have much to do,
and remember the devil,
will use a few.
I call you friend,
as many here do,
and from my heart to yours,
I wish only the best for you.

Michael Jordan, you are a special kind of man.
One that I am proud to call my friend.......
One if ever needed would not turn his back...
I have never met you, but I can say,
actions speak very strong...for you are willing
to reach out, and help...to me, you have what it takes
to be a lighthouse for others....


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Super Soupers

I love this place,
it puts a smile on my face.

Super Soupers, writing away,
making me smile, and wanting to stay.

New soupers, joining everyday,
a super place for poets to play.

Old friends, new friends,
all joining in.

We are so blessed,
this is as good as it can get.


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Loving Three

Poetic dreamer, elaborately creative
The beloved disciple had your given name
There must have been two before you
Two who passed their loving heart and ways to you
Gave you their name for all to know of whom you belong

For my friend John Loving III