These Uplifting Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Uplifting. These are the best examples of Uplifting Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Lemme tell ya' about a
I met her one night
under disco lights
up at Candies
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see
if I wanted a piece
by way of flashin' granny panties
actin' a fool
took a shot
and one tiny glance
but got caught
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"
"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl"
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"
Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to
"Get this he/she outta the place!"
My pleas were to no avail,
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail
Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked,
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
to hit the bricks,
and yir' Granny Panties!"
At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me
I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!
It's a night I thought would never end...
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!
In the artificial light-
Without a pen she writes-
Of linen paper sheets and candle light-
As she dips her unseen quill-
Into an overflowing mind-
Extracting vivid memories-
Of a precious bygone time-
Then she paints these pastel scenes-
upon the neon screen-
An old Victorian house-
Beside a babbling stream-
Where she finds her resting-
In a seasoned rocking chair-
Glowing hazel eyes-
Beneath a mound of silver hair-
And there in early spring-
As lilacs bloom and song birds sing-
A child receives a gift an angel brings-
As she listens long into the night-
While her grandma tells the many joys and sorrows Of her life-
That in loving memory-
For her now-
This long since grown-up child writes-
The story of-
‘The Mariner’s Wife’
We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
Someone once told me that my dreams wouldn’t come true
And for some reason I believed them too
So I just stopped trying
And ended up all alone in the dark crying
There was no ignoring the pain I felt inside
But I didn’t show it because of my pride
But in spite of everything else
I decided to start all over myself
I accomplished so many things it was unbelievable
So now the word on the block is “Aaron made it, that’s impossible”
But that’s where you wrong
I’m standing on my own two feet and I ain’t gonna fall
I’m that helping hand that’ll answer anyone’s call
All of my achievements are adding chapters to my book
So before you fix your mouth to say she’s failed take another look
I’ve grown up to be what I wanted to be
And not some black person they see as charity
So the next time someone says your dreams wont come true
Just think of it as being a point you have to prove
I'm always there, in that place that doesn't mean a thing to anyone but me. A far away
meadow where I don't have to hide all the happiness of a young girls heart. One that has
been ripped apart, so many times. I stare at all the beautiful flowers and trees of my
surroundings and let the wind gently rustle my hair. I close my eyes taking in all these
wonderful things, as I lie on the cool grass. My body mixes in with the air, and I'm blowing
past natures statues and creatures galore. I stop at the edge of a nearby pond, my body
floating softly to the ground as an eagles feather. I look deep into the sparkling image that
makes me who I am. I gracefully touch the water with my fingertips and let the water
shimmer like the stars. A white unicorn grazing near the freshly harvested hay, called out to
me. It approached me as I stood, and nuzzled my arm. I brushed its silk coat and burrowed
my face against her cool cheek. This is the reason I come to this place. To interact with the
things not known or believed in their world. Its just my own, my sound and the behind
scenes of my eyes. It's calm and peaceful, which their world is far from. I'm the only one with
the doorway to this meadow. I love going there, it's like a blanket that warms its comfort
over me when I need it the most. And when I get there, my feelings are a boat sailing to
sea, leaving me filled with perfect serenity. I'll always be there, till the end of all life, and I
know this lovely meadow will never be replaced.
When you're walking
Scuffling along in trouble's shoes
Head hanging low
Mumbling moody blues
Well me, I'm making lemonade
Why can't you
Taking bitter adding something sweet
Maybe a smidge, no a heap full of hope
Heck, by days end I'll mix it up
Movin' straight to, getting crazy in root beer floats
When all you see is red
Awful thoughts pound your head
"Honey do this, honey do that"
I'm sitting back
Feet up, sipping lemonade again
You look my way and say
"Boy, he's got it made"
Not so my friend
I just taking my lemons
And making me some lemonade instead
There's so much "other time"
To have your little gripes
Or your petty cries
But, now let's toast away the grind
And partake in some lemonade on ice
You've come this far
"And guess what? You've got your health"
Check your pulse you're still alive
So change your ways
Brother, embrace the lemons
Squeeze fresh into winner ala mode
And "live baby, baby live! in lemonade days
"Ahhh ... such sweetness"
The crucible savant.. by Steven Hudson
(Crucible: A place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence change or development.
Savant: a person of learning…)
Through sleepless, hopeless nights
With liquor on breath and dull head
Alone and cold in lay,
We made our passage to manhood,
Many days in suffer and want
Through tears and hardness of heart,
With sorrow for cellmates
In a prison self-made,
Rather hunger and want
Then submission to those above,
Wild wanderlust thrust us into darkness
Uncertainty of survival, without care,
Knowing no other way,
We strove to understand the deeds done to us in violence,
Shiver, quake, lie awake, as hopelessness covered us like a blanket,
Thieves and murderers as strange bedfellows,
Ladies of the night for use and forgotten,
Laws of the land forsaken,
In desperate want, Never knowing if we’d awaken,
Making our way through this world
Boys living as men,
We threw the line, heaved and toiled
In bright sun and fear,
With hands and feet against the frigid snow,
We lived beyond the breaking,
Many before us have sought their manhood,
While others have had it thrust upon them,
Much has been learned, much has been taught
By the flames and the fire, the crucible savant,
It has been our right of passage
Through bloodstained cloth and scars,
The fathers who came before us, live forever in the Arms,
Painted grey, now I see, the path laid out for me,
By the Infinite Son, whose Glory was won,
Making the savant, a reflection of Thee..
Every once in a while I lose myself
But I’m glad the dreams are coming back
I feel the thrill filling me
I feel my heartbeat rising
I see redemption rising in the days ahead
I still realise once again that I’ve earned another chance to begin anew
Still glad that it’s early in life
...and I can apply the lessons I’ve learnt before I’m twenty five
Phew! Boy, my heart’s beating fast
I shall no longer look at my past
For the past is just that
...opportunities gone with the wind, never to come back
I look towards the days ahead
I spend today to dream of the future I intend
For I know now tomorrow is bound to come
Today was but a dream ten years back
Had I realised then how soon today would come
I’d already be rich riding on the wings of independence
I pledge never to make that mistake again
Today I shall live like I plan
...and not like my neighbour Mr. Wright
For I know not how much he earns to spend the way he does
Today I shall not live like the society around me
For I don’t know whether they think ahead
...of the days that are bound to be raining with storms of emergency
I pledge to live as befits me
I plan to live today in a way that enables me to save
For now I know I was right ten years ago
But I hadn’t the courage to follow a route of my own
Now I’m determined ten years to come...
I’ll be riding on the unicorn of delight
I pay no care for what those here and there may air
I wanna be happy today in my moderate ways
Knowing all too well I’m headed where
There, in the future where my heavy dreams will float in the air
I’m no hater so for the rest of the players here
I wish all the goodwill and good wishes my subconscious can air
My favorite of songs is The Old Rugged Cross.
The most tragic of days was the worlds’ greatest loss.
For sinners that day were all given their chance.
His Father in heaven could not even bear to look not even one glance.
Forgive them He prayed as His life’s blood ran down to the ground.
Can you picture Him there wearing that thorny old crown?
On that hill so far away, sad but precious memories were made.
Born of a virgin mother in the tomb He was laid.
Death could not hold Him, death would not last.
Three days in that tomb, so long ago, death too it would pass.
He arose and was seen by many it was said.
Our Savior arose from the grave and no longer was dead.
As He gave His final words to His apostles and friends.
He ascended to the clouds but they knew they would see Him again.
He made us a promise He would rule once again.
I feel that day is coming we’re reaching the end.
The prophecies that abound.
With each new day they seem to be coming unwound.
Are you ready my friend for the Millennium Reign?
Are have you sunk to wearing the mark worn by Cain?
Sacrifices my friend we all have to do.
Just look at Jesus and the sacrifice He made, was made just for you .
So on that hill so far away I kneel at the thought.
With His precious blood my cleansing was bought.
And what have we learned, or did He die just for nought?
I look to Jesus and His love I have sought.
He must come first in all that we do.
And when the day comes you’ll see I speak true.
like the raven
who taps taps upon
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap
upon your chamber door
for only you my love
I surrender and never more
wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more
tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more
as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven