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Cousin Friendship Poems | Cousin Poems About Friendship

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

Bell's Blues

Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my 
kitchen.  Surely a symbol of my madness.  I can't help, but think, if the keys were 
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there 
enough black keys??  Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
     Wondering if I can stand another minute alone.  Atop my organ, music books, 
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
     Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish 
and distress.  Even to worrying of misspelling a word again.  Pure lunacy.
     Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became 
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation.  Or just an early 
sign of the madness to come??
     I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair.  My life's hopes down to 2 
desires;  one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld.  Money is 
meaningless to me.
     I am well aware that death is as natural as life.  And I would venture to guess 
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and 
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe.  But not for me.
     Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.  
And what a reunion it will be!!  But I must continue to go on surviving as though I 
cherish this long and barren life.
     My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician 
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not 
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday.  So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
     Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the 
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the 
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove 
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.  
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the 
story one finds in a false tale.  He never faltered, he never failed.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |


I am God's child, first and forever I am known by many different titles, a daughter I am a wife I am a mother I am a grandmother I am a poet I am by several ways, known as a sister I am an acquaintance I am a loyal friend I am a stranger I am a cousin I am an Auntie I am a niece But who is this person, they all call "Denise?" She is a child to God She is a niece She is a cousin She is a stranger She is a loyal friend She is an acquaintance She is known to many, a sister She is a poet She is a grandmother She is a mother She is a wife She is known as a daughter to many She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be.... She is happier than she ever imagined possible SHE IS "DENISE"

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Heroic Couplets |



He is young, handsome and got all it takes
To get involved with him, girls get tied to the stakes
Early in his age he set it off with one in a relationship
The love was fierce; both were wolves and none the sheep
Quarrel today and settle today; the relationship seem not to last
Sincerity danced to the lime-light; someone will surely get hurt at last
He ignorantly made her jealous and she sought a pay-back
She left him for his best friend but later sought to come back
Marriage and family ties got deep in line; too late to get back
The first girlfriend in his past.

So heartbroken and sad; he refused to show concern
The latest girl was so pretty and that calls for concern
She was his childhood friend he shared kisses with
Another relationship in line; amidst tares he took out the best wheat
It all started off so well, he broke the heart of her cousin
They were too close; the girl was close to his cousin
Childhood friendship an advantage thought this one will last
Unfortunately, the happy relationship came to end so fast
They lost it all: love, compatibility, friendship and in themselves a taste
The second girlfriend in his past.

Tired of relationships, he dived into friends with benefits
It was so sweet an adventure; to every girl, he got a benefit
He became so free and there was no love seen to be found
Nothing to loose as its just sex and the girls were always around
Tasting all juicy like Solomon’s pear; Complications in line he got scared
Frightened out his shoes; friends with benefit? He was no longer prepared
In the midst of storm; just like Jonah , he remembered there is someone so dear
The safest adventure is a relationship with her and there will be nothing else to fear
Difficult as of the beginning but she later came to terms and vowed to always be there
The third girl; presently in his present…

D' Poetic Beast

Copyright © Victor Alexander | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |


Once i lived with an uncle in a sleepy coastal town
who had a very beautiful house help from upcountry
now my male cousin Kiki desired to have a relationship
with our beautiful house help who was very lovely

One day Kiki arrives home alone he tries his advances 
she flatly rejects him he then tries harder than its allowed
with no success.. later that night he is summoned by my uncle
Kiki tries best to defend himself....but is severely reprimanded

Now my Chieftain uncle is given to punishment and for Kiki
our Kiki is ordered to spend the night in the Chicken house..
not the European pet chickens these are real African chicken
complete with a rooster who scratches Kiki mercilessly

Come morning Kiki is full of scratches but he has learnt his lesson
he apologizes like his life depends on it  and high tails out of the house
Safari my chieftains uncle we all love him but is know to be really hard
when it comes to meting out punishment and our Kiki had it coming

Lewis Nyaga
mambo ya pwani

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |

Uncomplicated Friendship

Just an ordinary day on 20 January 2009 or so I thought
My phone rang, “Hi can you give me your work address please?”
Amazed by the voice on the other side,
So I asked, “Why do you need it?”

No my cousin is in town,
He needs to drop off something for you.
I gave my address like a fool, 
Ten minutes later my phone rang again, my cousin is lost.
Can you meet him half way?

So off I went in search of a cousin I have never met,
Only to find out it is my best friend, whom 
I have never met….
He flew into town for one day,
Just to surprise me…

The ordinary day changed into something extraordinary
I met my best friend 
We talked, laughed and shared so much that day
It was like we have known each other all our lives
No uneasiness, no pretense 

So off to lunch we went, 
That was the best two hours of my life, 
With just a handshake, no hug or kiss
And just as quickly he had to leave…

We have never seen each other since
That day, we use to talk on the phone all the time,
But with his battle against cancer, 
It doesn’t happen that often anymore,
That day will always remain
My fondest memory…

“dedicated to my best friend” 
09 December 2010

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |


I see the place she use to be
But she’s no longer there
Now it’s just a dark lonely room
With an empty chair

What happen to make her go?
Why did she go away?
She seems alright to all
But she’s not here today

She did not show a sign
That anything was wrong
Yesterday she was so happy
Shearing her favorite songs

I really miss her a lot
With her black hair
She was born in small town
In the south of India

Her parents name her sapna
When translate means dreams
She was just the perfect child
I guess she was bless it seems

She Become a medical student
So she can help the poor
She’s like the angel 
That we all hope for

She likes plays basketball
And she makes me smile
She’s good in badminton
And she’s sometimes wild

Everymorning I awake in my bed
I think of my best friend sapna
And though we live different cities
We are never very far

Everyday I ask what she eat
She would smile and say roti
Then I told about my cousin teddy
Who loves roti dipped in tea?

But She just leave and 
Now there is just an empty chair
And my heart brakes every time
When I don’t see her there

Why she leaves I will never know
And hope one day to see her again
Maybe In a hospital somewhere
Easing some poor person pain

And as long as the sunshine’s
And water flows to the streams
I will think of my friend sapna
When translates means dreams

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |


I will always right remember
   days that went all through September.
Days so innocent and meek
   swinging, chasing, hide-and-seek.

We were just children, eight or nine
   no cares or worries, concerns for time,
   just common roots and common ways
   and homes alike in which were raised.

Country children, best of friends,
   both had chores in which to tend.
Feed the cows or sweep the floor,
   "No running inside!" or "Shut the door!"

Forever we are such close cousins,
   always laughing, never fussin'
Our friendship may it never part,
   occupied within our hearts.

For days move on, much older now,
   Fine lines rest along our brow,
But time it cannot ever steal
   The love we have, and always will.

Sweet cousin, oh so very kind.
Sweet, sweet cousin. Sweet cousin
   of mine.

Copyright © David Brooks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


This is about Achilles who is told that he can choose to either be immortal or kill Hector and 
avenge the death of his cousin, but then be killed like a mortal.Achilles chooses to avenge 
the death of his cousin and sacrifices his immortality for the same.

I am immortal, the Gods tell me,
My immortality is my fate's Gift to me.
Hector, the Prince of Troy, is a hero-
Strong, wise and just,
But he killed my friend 
And to  honour his friendship,
Avenge, I must.

Its our decisions that make our future,
And our beliefs that make us great.
Fate, the Temptress shall never be my master,
I do not believe in fate.

Our friends... they live in our hearts,
For them I will let my world fall apart.
Life 'is' nothing without those I love...
Let Death be my answer from Gods above.
If I kill Hector, Death will soon find me, 
And to return to dust, will my fate be...
But immortal would be our friendship,
Though short , our lives may be.

Life is all about love
And to love and be loved is the only honour I seek.
I stand alone in the darkness
Trapped in an unpredictable world...
I am a legend,
Because I choose to live by my code,
To cherish my moments and memories,
To protect, honour and fight for those whom I love.
I live by my will and my strength,
And by the grace of the Gods above.

Copyright © Girish Gokul | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? |

Dead on Thanksgiving

(This is a fictional poem)

My cousin ate a big turkey dinner and he was sleepy because of the Triptovan.
We suffered a great tragedy when we lost this man.
While he was driving, he fell asleep at the wheel.
He had a bad crash and he was killed.
They say he died instantly so maybe he wasn't in any pain.
I used to love Thanksgiving but now it will never again be the same.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2006

Details | I do not know? |


Hey angel baby,
This is just for you,
Take you back to our old school,
On the benches or the steps is where I use to hold you,
Where I held your hand in mine for the first time
My front yard is where you first told me hi
No one so beautiful had caught my eyes
Ask my brother he'll tell you knucklehead here was mesmerized
Then you smiled and I was hypnotized
Wanted to tell you I like you but I was too shy to do it
I think about it now, you were too
Because you had your cousin ask me out for you
But it was sweetly, innocently cute
Awe that’s one of my favorite memories of you
And hey word I was a lil perve and you know
Had a lil chubby 13yr old at night staring up at your window
What a fool but you were too awesome saying it was cool
We were young having fun when it was ok to be normal
And dumb was how we played like ‘10cents a minuet’
Matter of fact I got a jar full of dimes and I’m going to spend it ;)
For real though the time I had with you I loved every second
I know we both wish it hadn't ended
But it’s like it never did
Even though we moved on as teenage kids
You still been my best friend even through my bullshit
And you can have anything I can give
And oh I didn’t forget
SMILEY I love ya
From your best friend BUBBA

-bkmjr 2011-

Copyright © brian miller jr | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Leading it on your own

I know it’s hard but you have to try
How can you live your life lie?
You say you hate who you’re closest to, to another 
But around him, he’s not like a cousin but a brother
How can you just let them take over you?
Next you’ll be a singer to 
Just like him 
The changes of you not being are very slim 
You let him dress you, and tell you what to do, How to act 
Becoming of what you used to hate as a matter of fact
He tells you who’s in and who’s out
You can’t lead so he does is that what its about?
You have always followed the crowd
Does that make you proud?
To not follow your heart 
 Minding them and playing your own part 
But when you come around me I see what you want to be true
Or at least that’s what I used to think 
But when I’m gone or your with them it all changes
Filled with nothing but perfect Barbie doll images 
That’s like tonight I’m gone and all you do is talk 
If you can talk then walk 
Show me you can do something to do 
Leading it on your own 

Copyright © Taylor Harris | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? |

Say it, not spray it

(This is a fictional poem)

My cousin spits lots of saliva when he talks.
If you're near him, you'll slip on the floor when you walk.
If he's standing on dirt, he turns it to mud.
If he talks too long, he causes a flood.
People are getting tired of being covered with spit.
I'll kick his ___ if he doesn't learn to say it, not spray it.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |

happy birthday my loving cousin

You are ten now
I just can’t see how
This adorable little girl 
Can grow up so fast 
These times I wish childhood could last
But there are times you want to grow up
And times you suck up
To get what you want 
You even got to go to Vermont 
But really what I want to say
Is have a happy birthday
And for you to let the good times last
And to forget the bad past

Copyright © Cynthia Ortiz | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |


They won’t stop
I mean my friends
May be, we won’t stop
Think that is better

But for my Gunner friend
Charming light-complexioned
Fine boy, we all know
A smooth talking orator 
An Engineer with a rare wisdom
With a posh car to cruise
Heaven was let loose on them his preys
A Gunner indeed,
Lost count of his prey cousins.

Cock barely crows
Before he landed on this day
Defying the heavy down pour
To come to a friend slaughter-alter
Smiling radiantly . . . un-endlessly
Suddenly became nice unusually
Why? Oh! He came for his prey cousin
She it who is at a friend’s wedlock.

His prey cousin whose name I know not
For her, he salivate  . . . savor to Romeo
But he already has a Juliet
The one he ringed five moons ago
A dark-complexioned Queen
He ignited with a protruding belly.

Oh! On this day for the prey
He looked sportingly smart
In a Jean, T-shirt and a fez cap
He waited endlessly for his cousin.

Feigning to be calm
But obviously not cool
Despite heavy clatter of water above
For he desires desperately
To run gun shot on his cousin
What kind of cousin is this?

He paces round the Abattoir room
As her voice echoes in his ear
“I’m sorry, I’m coming
Please, wait for me love
I’m still in the wedding”.

Perturbed, yet pretends not disturbed
For there was no sight of her
He hissed countlessly

It was five hours past noon
Before I yawned twice
Time ran off me like a wild fire
Darkness took over the firmament
It dawned on the Gunner
No cousin prey to gun down today
A brighter day for the potbelly Juliet
It was a bad day for the Romeo Gunner.

Copyright © Alayande Stephen | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |

Wabba Ubba

wabba ubba my cousin bubba
just playing and do some rubba dubba

hop in and join me in this bigga tubba
Obba kayba ready for my rubba

waita tilla the kids hear about our
new wabba ubba bubba clubba

hubba bubba fat albert my chubba 
youa bringa youra little yellow subba

youra going to sink our tubba
with all that blubba

hey hey hey watch out whatcha saybba
old weird Harold will dubba on that rubba 

while mushmouth and russell wait at the clubba
for dumb donald to finish that other tubba

Causea me lovesa all my chubbas 
givin fat albert thosea nicea rubba dubbas

Tribute To Fat Albert 
The Cosby Kids

Fat Albert Mushmouth Dumb Donald 
Russell Weird Harold Bill Rudy Buck 
Mudfoot The Brown Hornet Legal Eagle 


Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2008

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Turned away

(This is a fictional poem but we really should help people who are down on their 

My cousin lost his job and his home and he had nowhere to go.
He asked his other relatives for a place to stay but they all said no.
It was wrong of his relatives to turn him away.
When he came to me, I gave him a place to stay.
He's a good man but he was down on his luck.
When they turned him away, it really sucked.
The way they treated my cousin wasn't at all nice.
When he asked me for a place to stay, he didn't have to ask twice.
I wasn't about to let my friend be thrown out on the street.
I gave him a place to stay until he got back on his feet.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |

Lost once again

At night I look up into the sky , 
And I start obsessing over the ways that I could die ,
All scratched up , broken , and falling apart , 
With nothing but this broken heart, 
How could you be so cold , 
You have already been told , 
My cousin said he would do it , 
If you quit,
You gave up on me , you just gave up,
Never even let me know what sup,
You just bailed on me , 
So now I am lost once again,
With all this pain ,
And no way to release it ,
Maybe I should just split ,
Why not you did ,
I was just a kid,
Stuck in my own fantasy world,
Everthing swirled,
This is how everything's been ,
Cause I am lost once again.

Copyright © Heather Burt | Year Posted 2008

Details | Bio |

The Big Day

1972, and believe me and you,
Looked like it was gonna'
Be a year to remember...
We seemed to sense that,
From the previous December..
It was time for our luck to break,
And finally taste,
 That illusive "icing on the cake.."

We were a band of three,
All cousins, of course,.
And loved our sweet music,
Planning to be a major force,

I played the organ, 
all hooked up to a wah wah....
Making odd sounds.
Got stanger by the hour...

Charlie played the drums,
and an incredible talent he had....
Although as a person,
He was often a "cad"

The heart of the band,
Was cousin Billy on bass,
Much younger than us,
You couldn't tell from his face...
His full beard made us nickname him "wolfman"
We teased him mercilessly, as often as one can...
But he had an incredible magnetic aura about him,
And was the most talented of us, 
We prayed he'd never get a beard trim...
But his greatest talent,
lay in golden voice....
One rarer than gold, 
And given a choice...
He loved the blues, and sarcastic words,
He made one laugh like dodo birds...

We got a job, to play in May,
And we were to headline a festival,
And play all day!
That's a tall order, and hard to achieve,
We wonder if we would ever leave,
the stage alive after a 12 hour day!?
And just how many songs would we have to play?

We all spent each weekend 
at my house to rehearse,
Sometimes so frazzled,
We started to curse...

The task was intimidating,
At least 200 a song..!!
What would we do,
If something went wrong?

Each practice required 
a keg of beer...
And for Charlie his pot..
By Sunday we were something
to hear!
And Each Sunday morning,
We started the day,
With PA at the window...
And Billy's Baptist Rantings...
With churchlike organ played
Ending with Monkish chantings...
In an all black neighborhood,
We tooka great chance,
But they loved our dumb music,
And outside would oft dance...


Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |

Cousin R

I think that he is crazy,
though he's a lot of fun when he's nice,
and his conversaitons are rather hazy,
I think the word "swears" will suffice.

Copyright © Sharon Downer | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

Master of Puppets

The master of puppets, he sits and creates. 
The pieces he has, they fit as they shape. 
His self, his being are in the toys he makes. 
Precise and caring, the tools never break. 

He tries his best to bring them to life
He's just one man, but his work will suffice
He masters his art night after night
He sets them aside so calm and polite

He never speaks, but his toys always talk. 
His legs are weak, but his toys always walk. 
They lead the life he never could. 
He carves his soul into the wood. 

He lived and died with them by his side, 
he lived and died and his puppets, they cried
His soul has moved on from this crumbled estate
But in the attic, his puppets, they wait....

*Dedicated to my very sick cousin John... Get better soon!*

Copyright © Jacob McCullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Acrostic |

My dearest cousin



Copyright © Kristin Christensen | Year Posted 2007

Details | Lyric |

Dedicated to Wendy MacDonald from Australia

What is winter in Australia?

Can be she the cousin of Russian winter? 

Or, possibly, the Australian and Russian winters are

Simply good friends? 

But maybe they never even heard about each other!

I wait the Night at my home.

She always understands me.

She gives the moon and stars.

Together, we drink tea. 

Tears drip into my cup.

She speaks to me:

«You mustn’t cry!»

She helps me to go to bed

and gives kind dreams, 

Which is why I forget 

about the sadness.

Copyright © Dina Televitskaya | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |

He sucked at Pac-man

(This is a fictional poem)

When my cousin played Pac-man in the eighties, he really sucked.
He tried and tried to improve but he was out of luck.
He constantly got ate by the ghosts and it always made him cry.
He wet his pants in front of people and it embarrassed him so much that it made 
him want to die.
He stunk so bad at Pac-man that he couldn't even reach the first intermission.
One day when he lost, he got mad and made a bad decision.
He smashed the screen with a big rock nd he went to jail.
He seriously regretted it when they locked him in a cell.
After they put my cousin in the tank, things got even more grim.
He nearly tore the celldoor off when his cellmate threatened to rape him.
He recently bought a Pac-man machine of his own.
He doesn't like wetting his pants in front of people so he plays it all alone.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2006