Loss Friendship Poems

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

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Details | Free verse |
A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies, 
our near-death rescue from boredom 
        come afternoon chores and homework pages 
                                                                 wrinkled in time.

I try to recall all I tried to forget. 

Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship, 
                         for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
           between love and loss,
 practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
          you,  a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain 
rays of sunlight climbed, 
imagination uncaged,
             carefree hours,
                 diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
                       on the wrong side of the tracks.

Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded 
of our   bitter, listless eyes, 
        our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
                    I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.

Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze, 
                         childhood secrets
shared with ease on our path, 
thick with               summer's dead leaves.  

We, too young to notice, 
                          fell into brittle leaves 
                                          trodden bare 
before first snow.

Our laughter now echoes in dreams, 
chaffing our willow trees 
                                       still sulking low, 
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty, 
         and waits for you to come home.



An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015




Details | Free verse |
Looking down my tree lined street the setting sun casts her glow upon the Chestnuts, Maples, and Oaks dressed in worn out yellow ribbons telling the story of friendship and loss strength and courage. How there was hope and there were dreams. That life wouldn't pull us apart. There was community and passion and smiles each time you went through that revolving door. We prayed, yes we prayed for us that we wouldn't lose you that we wouldn't be missing someone so true. I raise my head up to the skies washing away a lingering tearful cry and remember .... Your amiable soul, dynamic, invincible and unique Your stupendous dose of humor, indulging, infectious and unstoppable. Your enthusiasm to give, to share, and your boundless care Your friendship, a treasure trove of trust worth. Wherever you were, there was harmony, and a breath of fresh air You were a friend, who never postponed one minute of life You used every minute to fill ours with joy I raise my head high and remember i remember the moment my laughter died that moment when I asked why Why are the good, the chosen ones, to suffer for others 'evil Why do they go first, why do they die young Why are they now far, so far ? In that moment of helplessness and doubt In that moment when faith was provoked I cried like a child, I didn t need another hero, I just wanted my friend back I wanted him so bad to be near, to survive Once again I raised my head, I got lost in the sky, And I swear I saw him with these eyes And I swear, I heard him with these ears He said, 'Death is not for the living, I am so much alive ' Then, it was night ! I raised up my head, and a luminous star lit my once darkened sky with warm breezing light.

Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Strangely bent this journey extends
Surreal at times, yet so real at ends
Each end confronts with a hardship of choices
With an abrupt passing, or an eternity of voices...

You and I, once on similar trends
Like brothers, we traversed all evil impends
The wheels then turned, unleashed worst of fears
We parted asunder on an ocean of tears

Through fallen decades, aggrieved heart sustained
I found my calling, forgot I was pained
Just when the going got peaceful and boring
Gales of anguish, and war started pouring

Again, I was forced to extinguish my wills
Left home for those in need of my skills
Forced to welcome the worst of thrills
A reward for one with the highest kills?

As we splattered blood on uncertain causes
Strode down the road of victories and losses
A vessel, merely, I was as I killed
Of sons, of husbands, of fathers, I spilled

In the heat of the battle, as I charged through
When my craving eyes met the eyes of you
That instant, that second, that moment, I knew
Neither decades nor ages could help subdue

My faltering sword could no longer fight
For whom I now behold in my sight
And I question my vow, having vowed despite
Whether or not my cause was right

Yet again, I stand on the recurring hill
In the midst of havoc, at a standstill
A piece of land that I swore to defend
Is it worth the life of a brother, a friend?

Copyright © M. Hussain Effendi | Year Posted 2011




Details | Kyrielle |
Oh, mild flower I chanced to meet,
A ruby red, yet so discreet.
She'd never seen a hue my blue.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Her fragrance wafted on the breeze,
And all were drawn to her with ease.
I put down roots near her and grew.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Though in her garden all seems well,
there still are things she hates to tell.
Her thorns, a shield, conceal what's true.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Beneath her thorns, resentment grows.
Disturb her and her petals close!
I learned too well what could ensue. . . 
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A casual remark was said.
Her ruby rose turned scarlet red. . .
I guiltless pled. Did I misdo?
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A fury she had kept so deep
had been unleashed; it made me weep.
Retaliation cut me through.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A leaf of peace she offered me:
Be friends, but only partially.
But I refused and shall eschew
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.



Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
The old screen door still welcomes me
as if recalling days before...
But after this...who'll pass this way?….
Will they use the rug and wipe their feet?
Erase away the grime and sleet?
 .....Or will they even care?
I feel my pulse and lungs collide
then, take a breath...and step inside

She had lived alone, the last to go
one somber dawn, in the old brownstone
No other sign her time was near
Then silently, without fanfare....
death tiptoed in on hard wood floors
and took more than a glimpse of her

I've been asked to come, to clear the house
to organize, and set it right…
This all seems wrong…. 
to trespass on the throne of  life
that was softly lived, behind the gate
where thirsty roses bloom, and wait…

I hesitate….
to disturb the lace on drop leaf tables…
Disgrace the quiet of the gloom
open drawers, snoop and sort, ….a pruning, 
of the good, the used, from worn and torn
My hands are able, but my heart declines..
what isn’t mine, to toss, to find, to mark, and label…

Echoes of her old straw broom
still follow me through every room, 
While dust motes in the window light
are like glitter in the afternoon…

Where is the charm that used to be
where cozy logs had offered light
keeping the long nights warm?

Whirling sounds are in the air 
like whispered breaths of weaving looms
Treadled sounds from sewing hems.
are mimicked by the whistling wind
that rattle windows, shaking blooms
on this somber winter afternoon

There are questions I want to ask
tho’ I can’t recall just what they were
No matter now….with no one here
I must be focused….on my task…
I must keep sorting until I'm done…

And now, …as doors of dark close in
I see, somehow, that fate has planned….
I am glad that I, with my two hands…
have witnessed with a smile within,
this cherished life, until the end

Within four walls, I hold it all
and now I know, what mattered most
Her life is held in loving hands

I stand here in the halls of night
content, I'll leave without regret
companioned by a day well spent…

                    I've been within …her company
     


....................................................................................................................

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
Here’s to a love that never existed!
And to the departing you insisted,
Let me give in to all I’ve resisted
It is true through our frivolous trail
Our lives were but a tale;
Though if I hadn’t thought of it
Pure hearts indefinite,
Not mattering even then,
Would I ever believe again?
We never win, we never fail
For what we had was only a tale

I’m lost within a dream never dreamt
Inside a slumber never slept,
And I caress the intricate design
Of the world I can never find
How vast! Yet still it is dying
Fading into the nadirs’ binding
As I fill the world with crying—always crying! 
Oh world! Can I ever bring myself to hold 
The warm nothing growing cold? 
Oh world! Can I not take away
The love I gave with my will today?
We never win, we never fail
For what we had was only a tale 

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cowboy |
We’ve shared the trail, kicked up some dust, An’ stood a storm or two. We’ve rode the plains, the wide frontier, The easy trails were few. You’ve listened like some wise old sage To ever thing I’ve said, An’ as a friend, supported me, No matter where it led. I wished I coulda carried you, The times you were in pain; Or rustled up some kinda shed To turn the blowin’ rain. I’ve come up shy with some your needs, You gave me more’n you got, But in your silence, seemed to know, I needed you a lot. Compadre, friend, amigo, pard; I called you all them things, But there’s been times, I swear to God, You musta had some wings, An’ He sent you to care for me Like no one had before. If you’as a man an’ not a horse, I couldn’t a-loved you more. We gave this ranch our sweat an’ blood, It’s yours as much as mine, An’ raised our young’uns through the years, An’ Lord they’re doin’ fine. They’re blazin’ trails an’ raisin’ dust, They’re off an’ runnin’ free. We’ve taught ‘em well an’ made ‘em strong; Compadre, you an’ me. I always knew the day would come When we would fine’ly ride, To join the Maker’s round-up time, Up on the Great Divide. I sorta hoped we’d share the trail But this was not to be, So, you go on, we’ll ride again; Compadre, you an’ me.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2005

Details | Elegy |
Chill breath of autumn
Sears the poppy scarlet red,
On his memory'd cenotaph.

Tears trickle in the furrowed
Faces of young comrades
.....now long dead

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
                                                                                                             -For Melissa

She asked me how long does it take to heal
In what time allotment, exactly, will it take
For forgetfulness to become a reoccurrence
A blessing for the haunted
Memories that can be bleached off 
White sundresses put on in order to frolic
On beaches with waves washing away
Each grain of him
How long did it take for you to get over him?
Days? Weeks? A month or two?
Hope shining like a naïve flashlight during the eclipse of hardest times
Beaming on me, waiting for an answer

How could I tell her, honestly, 
That it took me years
To overlook the smallest details of his smile
How he only has one dimple on the right side of his face
The way his hands felt, every line and crevice of his fate
Thought to fit mine perfectly?

How could I tell her, truthfully
That no matter how many times I washed my sheets
I would catch the scent of him at 3:45 am, sometimes
Or hear his faint tapping on my window
When it’s really just, my imagination
That she’ll spend months waiting for him to text her
Call her, email her, think of her
When really he’s lying in bed with another women but she refuses
To believe that it’s over
Or how my heart still aches, just a little
When I hear he asked about me
Or that he can no longer say my name out loud to our mutual friends

Could I muster up the courage to explain to her
That it took me 2 years, 3 months, and 16 days to realize
The ugliness of being pathetic
It was time to rise up and take the lead 
Time to forget all romantic casualties 
It’s only yesterday that I found myself straining to remember
His faults, forgetting the man and only remembering the hero
How could I break her heart for the second time by telling her
The truth?

She stood there patiently waiting for me
To pull a metaphor out of a hat, something poetic
Comforting, beautiful, reassuring
I see myself in her
Wanting people to lie to us to see the Zen in ourselves

It’s like we’re all in the same play with the same roles but different names
It takes time for each actor to fulfill the destiny
Others emphasize while others downplay
Moments in time

Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
A cold wind blows,
turning hardened walls to sand.
Breaking down the barriers
exposing the emotions that were held inside.

The pain builds,
from hurts buried deep within.
Storm clouds roll in
dark, cold, and threatening.

Thunder rumbles,
roars across the darkened land.
A voice breaking the spirit:
Stupid
Ugly
Hated
Harlot
Die...
the words echo through the ears.

Lightning flashes,
shattering the very heavens.
Words drift through the mind:
Unwanted
Nothing
No-one
Useless
Alone...
casting shadows of doubt through the soul.

The tears fall from the eyes,
from a heart broken and battered.
Rain pours down from above
overflowing, unable to be contained.

Then finally as the rage is spent,
a calm stillness overtakes the cleansed world.
In the arms of a friend
peace is found once again.

And a voice whispers to the night:
"I'm alright..."

Copyright © Jennifer King | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
mystic clouds at night
beneath an amber sun
casts a lovely glow..

her face illuminated
as tears freely fall
she trembles..

~as she remembers~

a sky of twinkling stars
which once guided her way
now dull, broken shards..

she falls to her knees
as the tide edges closer
cold and unforgiving..

his soft words
once a safe cocoon
now strife with contempt

~she sadly remembers~

she hugs herself tightly
rocking and wondering
where it all went wrong..

her heart is hurt
his loving friendship
touched her like no other..

~she tearfully remembers~

she opened herself up
with his gentle guidance
as best as she knew how..

his kindness moved her
with truth and with faith
for happiness she felt..

~she fondly remembers~

she knows her truth
as he feels his
the gift of his friendship..

~she will always remember~

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006

Details | Lyric |
Dedicated to Lorie Jean Who Will Never Know I Did So
Awake, I cannot escape my love’s depth for you. Awake, I cannot deny my loathing towards you. Confusion and missing settle-stay in my pain’s cliché. Thoughts of you weigh down my moments every day. Long is the time I have spilt grief yet failed its release, but dreams weave my joy strung to net grief’s relief. Asleep, I see us blend as we did easily back then. As before, we pool play, float happily and swim. In sunshine, we decide our age will be just ten as laughter splashes our feel with child-like appeal. In dreams, we cook, play cards, take road trips, critique movies, compete to title older song hits. Our laughter soars until you ‘ink’, and then we laugh more, stopping only when laugh sore. Secrets from one’s lips merit the other’s ears to heart-hear and hold all told in love-lined folds. My feet twitch as I dream-walk to your home and street-met you dream-walking to my own. In dreams I see all I reality-miss; your face, voice, moods, humor and unique attitudes. I live our togetherness, our special groove, in cherished dream scenes of us as still a two. As soon as I first wake, reality steals my happy, smashes the contentment dreams grant me while missing aches swirl colors of lonely. I ponder about the maybe of your slumber also dream plundering our past splendor for assistance with your friend-grief ender. ... CayCay Jennings January 20, 2018

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2018

Details | Rhyme |
She sits on the porch in a cool desert night
A bobcat stalks prey in the day's fading light
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
Evoking old memories she thought she outgrew

Memories of nights of moutons and mums
High stepping half-times and booming bass drums
And homecoming dances that ended too soon 
Under West Texas stars and a big bobcat moon

He sits on the beach in an evening gulf breeze
An autumn vacation in the Florida keys
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And brings to his mind an old memory anew

The reunion that gathered together that year
Old friends and acquaintances scattered and near
To tell stories of glories till late afternoon
And share in the evening the big bobcat moon

We sit by the lakeside past sunset one time
The end of another communion sublime
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And summons a vision of friends we once knew

She flies round the barrel with her long ponytail
He yells and rings joy on the victory bell
We loved them and all those who left us too soon
We'll remember them well with the big bobcat moon

©January 10, 2013

For my high school reunion group. The bobcat is our school mascot. 
In Texas, girls often dressed up for the homecoming game and were given a chrysanthemum (mum) corsage by their date. In the late fifties an inexpensive "fur" coat made from straightened and dyed sheepskin called a "mouton" was often worn by girls wanting to look elegant.

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee

Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Pal
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 | Rhyme |

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
As the never world awaits me, 
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake 

Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.

And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.

Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.

Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray

© N A Windle 2009

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
Early Mourning

I sift through his Taoist rants
searching the brilliance and madness
for something to make sense; to inspire.

And he does not insult me
with the dust of dead men
though dust is what remains.

Ash falls through my fingers,
as promised, plenty of his own decay,
pure and uncontaminated,

his spirit whispering remembrance;
his legacy blowing in the wind
captured in my heart and lungs.

Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
I came upon an old man,
A homeless, wretched soul.
He looked so sad and helpless,
In his hands, he held a bowl.
He was propped against the building,
So, his weakness would not show.
He saw the world through glasses,
With hair as white as snow.

I heard my father whisper,
As my eyes filled with tears,
“One need much more than money,
One needs his loved ones near.”
My father loved his family,
Does this old one feel the same?
With my father’s soul beside me
I asked the old one’s name.

His name, he said with feeling,
Was lost with all he owned.
A thief assumed his identity,
Then, all he had was blown.
His wife died in December,
The vulture, then closed in,
Pounced while he was grieving,
Then, his life changed again.

I gathered the frail body to me,
Spoke kindly, acknowledged his need,
A home and a heart full of loving,
My family would plant the seeds.
Love is the first to be planted,
Followed by trust in their care.
My father’s spirit surrounds us,
His example taught us to share.

The old one lost all his pallor,
With love and trust he gained
More than he ever hoped for,
Another family, who gave him a name.
Grandpa, we decided to dub him
As we fought for all he had lost.
As he won the last legal battle,
His life was the price that it cost.

The old one wanted cremation.
My mother did not and she prayed.
Next thing we knew came a lawyer,
And the Last Will and Testament played.
My mother, for once, became speechless,
And I drew in no better air.
Grandpa was there in the picture,
Leaving us undisputed heirs.

Copyright © Janet Vick | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |
Alone in loneliness Amid forever nights And these four walls In faint, whisper soft your name I beg out loud to the nothingness that remains "Please not another nightmare, no more storms" But, answers are merely glimpses of light From lightening... Filtering through the pane Empty sheets... Cast empty shadows on the wall Of places where you used to be Eyes wide open Now asleep, afraid I am to fall Trapped within this never ending dream I cling to all the memories that I have Spinning me closer to where you were, in parallel on the edge The thoughts, like imaginary rubble, comes tumbling passed A fire for you still burning inside Why can’t I let go of the tragedies last And silence your unrescued suicidal screams Or is it only the rain falling faster as it taps harder, and harder upon the glass Or is it of your wandering spirit Mockingly knocking? Haunting with its vindications Of "why’s" I can never seem to grasp All this amidst lost stares into black windows Where gutters overrunning, burdened by the strains And I swear I see your reflection Among the flashes, tracing out illuminations about your face And for the first time You are noticeably absent of all the worldly pains And your lips releasing out a comfort that for so long I've been seeking As I hear the words echo within my stormy heart "That where you are everything is okay"

Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011

Details | Acrostic |
I s a child to be heard?
N o one answers, as usual. The silence is slowly killing me.
S orrow, misunderstanding and these mourning memories,
I s this the way it is supposed to be? Since that fateful day, I have been a 
G irl, lost in a whirl of tragic past, calamitous present and the fear of having no future,
N ever have I known what "family", "friends" or "fiends" mean, for
I have never made or heard of any.
F or I am thirteen, just as inconsequential as a dwarf planet, amongst boundless galaxies.
I live in misery, why won't anyone listen to me? I may be young, but I
C an converse, listen and see, and I
A m as normal as you are. So why
N ot give me a chance to prove myself?
C an you ever give me a listening
E ar? Is a child to be heard?

Copyright © Ashley Ho | Year Posted 2012

Details | Romanticism |
I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.

My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.

I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!

Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.

Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.

I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.

I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.

I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
We’ve had our differences in the past,
But I always tried to work through them.
We’ve had our little fights before,
But I always said sorry.
We’ve had our  disagreements previously,
But I always saw your side.
Well I’m done!

I’m done working through them.
I’m done saying sorry!
I’m done seeing your side.
I’m done with all of your negativity.

I’ve tried to be friends,
On more then one occasion.
I’ve tried to nice,
But now I don’t have the patience.
I’ve tried to just let things go,
And just have fun.
I’ve tried to ignore it,
But now I’m done!

I’m done working through them.
I’m done saying sorry!
I’m done seeing your side.
I’m done with all of your negativity.

Now that I’ve cut you loose,
I feel free.
Now that I’m through,
I feel happy .
Now that I’m done with you,
I feel like me.

I’m done working through them.
I’m done saying sorry!
I’m done seeing your side.
I’m done with all of your negativity.

When you regret your choices,
I want you to remember this.
I’m done with you,
And there is nothing I’m going to miss.
I’m done trusting you,
Cause I always get screwed.
I’m done believing you,
Cause it always ends in a feud. 
I’m simply just done,
With you!


I’m done working through them.
I’m done saying sorry!
I’m done seeing your side.
I’m done with all of your negativity.
Just thought I would let you know,
I’m done!

Copyright © Sierra Cowan | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

Here in this room again 
mind’s racing 
the fan on low…

and I’m not to be trusted 
can’t be left alone here
with shot gun temples 
and a soul full of fear

no worse place than now
I can’t yell it more clearly 
I beg for your attention  
but I can’t stand you near me

contradiction swimming
in the blood of my veins
I’d cut off my hands
to send toxins to drain

I’m gutless
yet I’m too gutsy for action
say that in public
imagine the reaction

I sit in whirl pools
but I’ve always hated heat
and claim to take a stand 
but I’m lazy at my seat

and I’m always on time
as I miss the bus again
I lie in your face 
with a devilish grin

I’m harmless 
and swear I didn’t mean it
I talk about my conscience 
still I’ve never seen it 

in a world of swirling confusions
I’m stuck on the spin cycle
madness,
creating contusions
 
my game’s not over
I need a fresh start
I’m begging for new blood 
cus’ I’ve got a good heart

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
I’m here.
Holding up the sky

It will not fall on you
Not again
In these days once more
When you tell me you canna do it
Not again

Stuttering intakes of breathless oceans apart
Yet so close as to tingle fingertips
Gasping at familiar melodies of desert songbirds

The smell of earth after a rainstorm
Two thousand miles of trust
Between us

And the origin of this collaboration
Of souls
Back to the beginning
Of recognition of you of me and
Me of you and
      There is no end

Not this day
Nor tomorrows ever will I
Leave you

For I would cease to breathe.

For my Devin

Copyright © Jill Martin | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
[beforehand i just want to let you know that i wrote this in honor of November 17th. which is 
To Write Love On Her Arms Day. im hoping to come up with a better one before than. but i 
still hope you enjoy this quickly-wrote one(: ]

this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my struggle,
my fall downs, 
&& all the breakdowns.
this is about every wound i placed upon my body.
over 60 self inflicted wounds,
that as my story went on they began to heal.
i stoped writing "give up" 
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about my past.
how it haunted me for years,
&& how im still running from some of it.
this is how i went from a hood rat,
to me actually caring about myself.
i began to write love on my arms<3
this is about me.
this is my story.
it is about how i learned to keep the bottle off of my nightstand.
i dont need liquor running through my veins 24/7.
i started to look at life through sober eyes.
i began to write love on my arms<3
&& as i wrote this day after day, i saw that i was loved. 
i found comfort in better things then pills, liquor, && razorblades.
&& even though i am still in healing,
my story is not over.
&& it will never be.
i still write love on my arms<3

Copyright © Saralynn SpaceCadet | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

I see her still in twilights shroud
At visions edge she’s standing still
She lives on for me, but makes no sound
Her presence felt , a loving glow.

She watches me with sightless eyes
The look that speaks but makes no sound
Where shadows spill she lingers now
But when I look I cannot see, just feel. 

She should be here if fate were kind
My partner in the quite times
I miss the things she needed that I gave.
That giving soul that has now passed.

She waits, I know she does.
The bond that held will always be
She was my friend, my love, my charge.
Now my pain, my loss, my memory’s dear.

Copyright © charlie milne | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
       On this dreary winter morning I sit on a bench in Central Park.  Lost in my own 
thoughts of the conversation I had with my ex-wife and her last remarks.  I keep asking 
myself is it my fault?  What did I do wrong?  The chilly wind fills my ears with it's endless 
song.  I shiver slightly and goose bumps crawl along the back of my neck.  Her words have 
left me an emotional wreck. I pull my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders.  I feel it in 
my bones this day will get colder.
       I've seen several joggers getting in their morning run.  That just shows people will 
continue their lives never mind the rays of the sun.  So many thoughts running through my 
head.  And I hold the morning newspaper I still haven't read.  I contemplate over my life, it's 
not always easy, and so-called-friends can be the enemy.  Even your spouse living in your 
house can betray you with infidelity.  That is why my heart is aching like a cavity.  Right now 
I'm doing my best to hang on to my sanity, but I really want to shout profanity.
       I notice an attractive couple hand-n-hand laughing and enjoying a morning stroll; and 
for some reason I can't control, I feel a sense of peace glow within my soul.  My insecurities 
diminish from their dark hellhole.  I begin to feel "whole," and suddenly this morning doesn't 
seem so cold.
       I get up from the bench shaking off the numbness that has set in.  A very pretty woman 
walks by with her dog and I grin.  She notices and smiles back.  Wow!  A kinda smile that is 
only meant for kodak!  I watch her walk past me with her dog leading the way.  Something 
tells me "you better not let this one get away."  As I'm listening to my inner voice, she 
glances back over her shoulder, and I knew that she too was giving me a choice.  Amazing 
how just several minutes ago my entire world seemed so dark.  I now knew everything was 
going to be okay because of this bench in Central Park......


* 10th Place win in "Anything Goes" Contest 
   sponsored by A Rambling Poet


Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009