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Famous Short Friend Poems

Famous Short Friend Poems. Short Friend Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Friend short poems


Friend  Create an image from this poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair. 

I have no sleep tonight. 
Ever and again I open my door and look out on 
the darkness, my friend! 

I can see nothing before me. 
I wonder where lies thy path! 

By what dim shore of the ink-black river, 
by what far edge of the frowning forest, 
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading 
thy course to come to me, my friend?



by Carl Sandburg
 Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

 Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

by Mark Twain
 Good-bye! a kind good-bye,
I bid you now, my friend,
And though 'tis sad to speak the word,
To destiny I bend

And though it be decreed by Fate
That we ne'er meet again,
Your image, graven on my heart,
Forever shall remain.

Aye, in my heart thoult have a place,
Among the friends held dear,-
Nor shall the hand of Time efface
The memories written there.
Goodbye,
S.L.C.

Jada  Create an image from this poem
by Tupac Shakur
u r the omega of my heart
the foundation of my conception of love
when i think of what a black woman should be
its u that i first think of

u will never fully understand
how deeply my heart feels 4 u
i worry that we'll grow apart
and i'll end up losing u


u bring me 2 climax without sex
and u do it all with regal grace
u r my heart in human form
a friend i could never replace

by Gregory Corso
 With a love a madness for Shelley
Chatterton Rimbaud
and the needy-yap of my youth
 has gone from ear to ear:
 I HATE OLD POETMEN!
Especially old poetmen who retract
who consult other old poetmen
who speak their youth in whispers,
saying:--I did those then
 but that was then
 that was then--
O I would quiet old men
say to them:--I am your friend
 what you once were, thru me
 you'll be again--
Then at night in the confidence of their homes
rip out their apology-tongues
 and steal their poems.



by G K Chesterton
 Chattering finch and water-fly 
Are not merrier than I; 
Here among the flowers I lie 
Laughing everlastingly. 
No; I may not tell the best; 
Surely, friends, I might have guessed 
Death was but the good King's jest, 
It was hid so carefully.

by Emily Dickinson
 How Human Nature dotes
On what it can't detect.
The moment that a Plot is plumbed
Prospective is extinct --

Prospective is the friend
Reserved for us to know
When Constancy is clarified
Of Curiosity --

Of subjects that resist
Redoubtablest is this
Where go we --
Go we anywhere
Creation after this?

by Robert Frost
 When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

by Stevie Smith
 The pleasures of friendship are exquisite,
How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit!
I go to my friend, we walk on the grass,
And the hours and moments like minutes pass.

by Christina Rossetti
 Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, 
Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, 
Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, 
Sleeping at last.

No more a tired heart downcast or overcast, 
No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover, 
Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.

Fast asleep. Singing birds in their leafy cover 
Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast. 
Under the purple thyme and the purple clover 
Sleeping at last.

by Jane Austen
 This little bag I hope will prove
To be not vainly made--
For, if you should a needle want
It will afford you aid. 
And as we are about to part
T'will serve another end,
For when you look upon the Bag
You'll recollect your friend

by John Donne
 No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 In this war we're always moving, 
Moving on; 
When we make a friend another friend has gone; 
Should a woman's kindly face 
Make us welcome for a space, 
Then it's boot and saddle, boys, we're 
Moving on. 
In the hospitals they're moving, 
Moving on; 
They're here today, tomorrow they are gone; 
When the bravest and the best 
Of the boys you know "go west", 
Then you're choking down your tears and 
Moving on.

by Emily Dickinson
 A Coffin -- is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.

A Grave -- is a restricted Breadth --
Yet ampler than the Sun --
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend --
Circumference without Relief --
Or Estimate -- or End --

by Emily Dickinson
Good night! which put the candle out?
A jealous zephyr, not a doubt.
   Ah! friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The angels labored diligent;
   Extinguished, now, for you!

It might have been the lighthouse spark
Some sailor, rowing in the dark,
   Had importuned to see!
It might have been the waning lamp
That lit the drummer from the camp
   To purer reveille!

by Gwendolyn Brooks
 Now who could take you off to tiny life 
In one room or in two rooms or in three 
And cork you smartly, like the flask of wine 
You are? Not any woman. Not a wife. 
You'd let her twirl you, give her a good glee 
Showing your leaping ruby to a friend. 
Though twirling would be meek. Since not a cork 
Could you allow, for being made so free. 

A woman would be wise to think it well 
If once a week you only rang the bell.

by Alexander Pushkin
 My voice that is for you the languid one, and gentle,
Disturbs the velvet of the dark night's mantle,
By my bedside, a candle, my sad guard,
Burns, and my poems ripple and merge in flood --
And run the streams of love, run, full of you alone,
And in the dark, your eyes shine like the precious stones,
And smile to me, and hear I the voice:
My friend, my sweetest friend... I love... I'm yours... I'm yours!

by Emily Dickinson
 Nature assigns the Sun --
That -- is Astronomy --
Nature cannot enact a Friend --
That -- is Astrology.

by William Henry Davies
  Now shall I walk 
Or shall I ride? 
"Ride", Pleasure said; 
"Walk", Joy replied.

Now what shall I -- 
Stay home or roam? 
"Roam", Pleasure said; 
And Joy -- "stay home."

Now shall I dance, 
Or sit for dreams? 
"Sit," answers Joy; 
"Dance," Pleasure screams.

Which of ye two 
Will kindest be? 
Pleasure laughed sweet, 
But Joy kissed me.

by Wang Wei
 Down horse drink gentleman alcohol 
Ask gentleman what place go 
Gentleman say not achieve wish 
Return lie south mountain near 
Still go nothing more ask 
White cloud not exhaust time 


Dismounting, I offer my friend a cup of wine, 
I ask what place he is headed to. 
He says he has not achieved his aims, 
Is retiring to the southern hills. 
Now go, and ask me nothing more, 
White clouds will drift on for all time.

by Sara Teasdale
 Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.

by Robert Burns
 THE FRIEND whom, wild from Wisdom’s way,
 The fumes of wine infuriate send,
(Not moony madness more astray)
 Who but deplores that hapless friend?


Mine was th’ insensate frenzied part,
 Ah! why should I such scenes outlive?
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!—
 ’Tis thine to pity and forgive.

by Robert Frost
 We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hid-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.

by Lewis Carroll
 (To Miss May Forshall.) 


HE shouts amain, he shouts again, 
(Her brother, fierce, as bluff King Hal), 
"I tell you flat, I shall do that!" 
She softly whispers " 'May' for 'shall'!" 
He wistful sighed one eventide 
(Her friend, that made this Madrigal), 
"And shall I kiss you, pretty Miss!" 
Smiling she answered " 'May' for 'shall'!" 

With eager eyes my reader cries, 
"Your friend must be indeed a val-
-uable child, so sweet, so mild! 
What do you call her?" "May For shall."

by Dorothy Parker
 Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I’d been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.


Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry