Grave Friendship Poems

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

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Details | Rhyme |
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
After the last one was planted, he sniffed it;
Then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one evening,
Pal quietly passed away.

Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.” 
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then, turned and licked her face.

She smiled through her tears.  
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too.  His name was Pal.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |
The world today must mourn the loss 
Of a soul that touched generations across.
This man who changed how we looked at space,
And was associated with the Vulcan race
For where he traveled friends were made,
Hearts touched by grace and the love he gave.
And when departing he'd raise one hand,
Give split Vulcan sign from their planet grand.
With just four words, “Live long and prosper,”
Good will prevailed and hope was fostered.
What Hollywood started five decades ago,
He made much more as new fans showed.
Everyone esteemed those pointed ears,
Wherever he went throughout the years.
With Kirk, McCoy, and Scotty too,
This team of friends endured so true.
Folks loved to watch him face harsh foes,
Armed with his logic head to toes.
How often it had saved the day,
If mankind just followed his ways.
But now he's left this planet to see,
And boldly meet his destiny.
For Leonard Nimoy was his name,
Eternally honored now rests his frame.
Yet if by chance there's another race
We find one day in outer space,
All we've learned from “Mr.Spock”
About logic should help us a lot!
But more than that we must confess
His human side taught us the best.

Copyright © Kathleen Callaway | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
The wind was blowing when she left the city...

I believe it was twenty below...

Where she was going she already knew...

But... first she had things she had to do...

Get rid of the body that was clear....

There were no options, it had to disappear....

The heater was broken and blowing cold air...

She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..

She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...

As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...

All she had asked him, was to light a fire...

To take off the chill in the house....

Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped

And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..

It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..

This was his favourite fishing spot...

She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..

And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....

Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..

When I get to the Florida Keys..

PS..this is the first in a for part 2.."gator bait..the dream "

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |
People want to commit suicide,
people choose to die over livin life.
Why has it come to be this way?
Why has this life become so meaningless,
that we just want to throw it away?
We become selfish and think our life is so bad,
dont think of others who's lives are worse, But still greatful for what they have.
People take for granted the things they've got,
clothes, food, smokes and shoes, even a roof or a bed,
They dont think of the homeless,
the hungry, not even the cold or the hot.
They just think they want to be dead,
Things happen in our lives that, to us, seem bad.
We dont look for help or trust any "friends"
All because of the past we've had.
Dont be a coward and run away,
Stick it out, Live life,
I know that there's alot of strife,
But stick it through day to day.
People want to commit suicide,
people choose to die over livin life.
Why has it come to be this way?....

Copyright © brandi foote | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Satin Sheets
A grave yard for a million dreams

Light of day, exposes what darkness of night, hides
upon platinum, satin skies, above an emerald green sea,
where- upon the waves of passion – you and I take rides,
leaving behind – in a cloud – dream children from you and me.

Children who – upon the light of dawn- dream no more, just die
as they leave behind their essence, upon a satin platinum sky,
as we drift in and out – splash about – side by side lie,
before all comes to an end, you ready, my friend, say goodbye.

I wonder what could have been ?, where their essence will go ?
These unborn children, without dreams, dreams I will never know.
As the dreams in my head begin to fade from view,
I get out of bed, and lost, is all I thought I knew.

B. J. “A” 2
July 17th 2003

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

It’s because of Jesus, that I’m here today!
I will serve him!  All of my days!

It’s because of his mercy, 
and love so sweet…
That I can lay all of my worries
 at his feet!

It’s because of the times
 he’s helped me…
He did this, because
 he loves me!

It’s because of his firm and guiding hand…
Everything I go through…  
He understands!

It’s because of all this and so much more…
It’s him that I praise, 
worship and adore!

This same Jesus is also here to YOU!
Won’t you receive him? 
 What will you do?

By Jim Pemberton    07/29/13

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Everybody was horrified of Paul's scruffy looks
with dirt and mud smeared all over his wrinkled face,
and his long nose with dark spots on its tip;
and a grave digger matched that image,
but he was the nicest person on planet earth:
hard-working, estimable, amicable and honest.
After the day's work was done, Paul stared
at the empty lots and whispered to himself,
" Soon I'll be in one of them...I feel it coming! "
One unlucky afternoon he was standing
on the edge of a newly dug-up grave and accidently
slipped and fell into the twenty-feet excavation;
no screams for help were heard...he was dead!
That same afternoon, there was a burial
and as the corpse's coffin was lowered into the grave,
Father Michael spotted a body lying on the bottom of it,
and it resembled that of Paul....suddenly police 
were notified and minutes later a fire truck arrived
to the dreary scene. Then two young firefighters
lowered themselves into the pitch-dark grave by holding
onto sturdy ropes, and without much effort, 
they pulled his bruised and broken body:
he was pronounced dead at two-thirty.
Paul had a near-death experience, one of the most
incredible ones: he visited heaven, the place of bliss!
And as he climbed the gold stairway, he heard many voices
of those he knew in the previous life...they chanted glorifying God,
who was seated on an ivory throne surrounded by Archangels,
Saints and the Prophets whom he remembered from his Bible readings.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | Narrative |
Paul had a near-death experience,
one of the most incredible ones...
he visited Heaven: the place of bliss!
And as he climbed the gold stairway,
he heard many familiar voices he had
known in the previous life...they happily
chanted glorifying God, who was seated 
on an ivory throne surrounded by Archangels,
Saints and Prophets whom he remembered
from his Bible readings. He tried to look at
God's face, but he was blinded by an intense light...
more brilliant than the sun itself, then Jesus
approached with his out-stretched arms.
Paul smiled and was elated to have found salvation,
but Jesus kindly said to him, " Paul, your time
hasn't come yet, return to Earth and tell them! "
And briefly pausing He continued, " When that time
comes, your honorable name will be written
in the Book of Life, and angels will carry your new body
on their swift wings and you will enter Paradise! "
Paul's face was expressive of disappointment 
and bitterness and weeping replied, " The people
of Earth deride a grave digger so groggy and grubby,
and they mock him with their delirious laughs;
I would rather be dead than return to them! "
 " Go and show them your mercy! " Jesus commanded him.
Paul had only minutes before he would be buried,
so he rushed back and surprisingly saw a large crowd
attending his service as Father Michael, the Chapel's priest,
performed the last rites by splashing Holy Water 
in and around the shadowy grave. They heard a knock 
coming from inside of the coffin...Paul's voice became louder,
" I am alive, not dead...let me out! " Everyone was horrified
and shocked, but Father Michael ordered the mortician to open
the casket and let Paul out. Jubilation filled the chilly air,
and streaks of light filtered through the murky clouds...their shouts
were heard as far as the outskirts of town: Paul was alive!" 
I sat with Paul the day after under the shade of a fragrant pine,
and he told me about his visit to Heaven with tremendous joy
and fervent faith. He admitted that he was wrong not to have
shown them his compassion and with the sincerest smile
he proclaimed, " My anger and grudge have vanished;
I have forgiven them...I am so glad to have returned! " 

Entered in the ramblig Poet's contest,
" In Search Of The Human Mind"
Assignment: A Near-Death Experience

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Dear Diary

I wish I could put in words how I feel, know how they feel... whether they are as intense as I am... whether I matter to her as much as she does to me. What this all means.... what lies beneath the cruel intensions? I want to say we didn't pick things we hated about me and her... and I'd like to say I didn't envy her for being so brave. I'd like to say she's not everything I aspire to have one day... but one day is one day. I want to grow up now... my hats don't fit, shoes are too tight and I'm bursting out of my room. My dreams and my reality are far too far apart... yes there goes another friend that I wanted to save. To mend... because I trust, I hurt... we cry, we project... I lie, I push... You pretend. 

If it please you I would not let you go, I would like to live return when invited in - to put together all the broken pieces. Slowly, I will win your heart... please trust that we play no games when it comes to life and love. It is purposeful and alive... diary I wish you knew them, but now they seem like oily marks on grey walls.

Copyright © Bongisa Grey | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |
Some one out there please help me.
This is not real for I am only sixteen this can’t be.
The nightmare began on a beautiful summer day.
I pleaded and begged until I got my way.
A white lie was told.
Helping friends move a truck to unload.
They gave me the ground rules.
I walked away thinking they were the fools.
Riding around in the car as a passenger feeling so proud.
We were all talking, laughing and the music playing so loud.
Some of us were smoking and drinking just a few.
Everyone started acting goofy as teenagers do.
All of once the crash happened before we knew.
There were screams heard, people and objects flew.
Everything is dark I can’t see.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t breathe
Their words echoes, the doctors said I died.
My loved ones I heard them all cry.
It was just a little white lie, to have a little bit of fun you know.
Everything is pitch black, where did everyone go?
Please I beg of you help me make this nightmare end.
Forgive me it was a lie to spend time with friends.
Wait, wait don’t leave me.
I am not dead; I am only sixteen this can’t be.

Copyright © Sandra Larkins | Year Posted 2006