Best Friend Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Friend poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of friend poems written by PoetrySoup members
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New Friend Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Friend poems are below this new poems list.
A Long-Lost Friend
by taylor, R. e.
My best friend
by wade, fauxcroft
Lunch with an Old Friend
by bauer, ilene
My Best Friend, Mouse
by Krutsinger, Caren
A True Friend
by Riabi Dziri, Besma
The 'End' in Friend - 2018 Version
by Eszes, Drake
My Crimson Friend
by Gentile, Mike
old man friend of mine
by sansam, ej
Matt, my friend
by van den Brink , Merel
To My Long Lost Friend
by Tab, Sam
View all new Friend Poems
The Best Friend Poems
From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.
We were five I use to draw you rose scented flowers
using an ordinary led pencil. Youth! The world was ours.
Seven! I know that was the first time I saw you blush.
I whispered a song for you so no one else would hear.
Oh when we were nine! The potato sack race. I entered with Lisa.
You gave me that look. Oh that look! And you left without a word.
At eleven years old I had my "magic wink". "A Magic Wink" you'd
say sarcastically. How it made you giggle to make fun of it.
It was at thirteen we decided to burn the gym floor with our moves.
Our first dance. You stole my breath. Emptied the room of oxygen.
Fifteen...we started running and my God we ran and ran...
our shoe prints dug into the concrete. It was then I knew. Forever.
Then suddenly at seventeen in the slip of time you left, dissapeared.
Stunned! I slept through the next two years even in the full light of day.
At nineteen I swam an endless pool but even the chlorine couldn't
clear your scent from my memory as my spirit filled out hard as steel.
Was it on my twenty first birthday you showed up? You showed up
tried to hug me hello. Silent! Cold! I turned and walked away.
Was I still twenty one when I apologized for that day. When you asked
for an explanation. I recited false words but we both knew. Hurt for hurt.
Then at twenty five we still had issues to work out. I asked you bluntly
why you cut me loose in the prime of our youth. You my first and only.
I asked the question that burned in my gut. Without words your eyes spoke.
You were still in love with me. There was only me. I your first and only.
Finally our lips met to never part again. Left to wonder why, I accept our
lives without an answer. My love was that. Why would I have let you go?
Older than old now. One last time you leave. Death makes this choice.
Alone again I remember how I never knew why once you left.
Not everything is explained or understood,
like music by a one arm man playing a violin.
I sport my blank stare. Naked is the body of life.
Mystery sings blind the song of the lark!
i think of you.
March 29 2015
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say
His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine
Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault
Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully
Copyright © White Wolf | Year Posted 2017
What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain
It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away
It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after
It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins
It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't
It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010
**Every pace change --is the voices of poets sharing his/her Ribbon**
The phone rings,
The clock dings,
I scream, scream, and scream:
I can’t grasp what is real
I can’t inhale the lives you steal
This game is like murder in the first degree,
I can barely feel the words you're expressing.
Your hand, holding on to mine as if it was the last
I crawl I hide behind these moonstone walls
There it stood and stole my Womanhood
Pink is the ointment rubbed inside my diary.
I crawl- I remember-
Looking for a dream, where the women wear combat boots
Women ready to kill all confrontation with nukes.
I was lost!
Do you know the feeling?
Once you hear, the “C” word your mind starts spinning,
You can’t see what’s going on,
Your smiles soon to be gone,
LOOK AT ME!
On this fright night, I bleed
Hold on tight, of the dead of this night
I’m down on my fallen knees,
A secret I can't keep, no longer need
Breaking backs when I mention the word “C.”
It is like getting struck by a freight train
Taking what belong and makes ME me!
Forgetting the Pink October ribbons, I wore
Taking time to weave them into the last strand of my red chemo hair.
Now here you are,
Standing on the chest
Heavy shoulders a violin press.
No longer needing the little black dress
Skin pink tight leather, now you caress
My eyes are full of tears
Once I discovered the beast came back without fear
The news blew like a missile in heat
With a fire’s shooting out from the dark
Sweltering me, blazing me,
Leaving the world, all ribbon tied.
Dimples and pretty lips, I drop the world with beauty and tissues.
Filled with pink ivory issues
This is the way that I feel, I am real…
You are a killer, you are a disease!
You sit there and shatter our lives,
With many of us, you’ll discover we do not break like glass
Still, we walk in high heels strolling through pink valley skies.
With a charm called a Pink Ribbon; -I WORE-
- A heavy pink scarf now I wear like a noose,
Remembering my days have been numbered
I PLEAD FOR MY LIFE?
I have no family to lean on
Everybody’s plus my mother is gone
You are the undead:
Leading some of us into a watery grave
You are like a jack in the box
Hiding until you are found…
You’re silent until your jobs done...
You made us angry, you made us cry, you killed many…
However, you will never come close to a glorious ~Victory~
We are “PINK LADIES,” who continue to be strong
I will find a way to sew my chest back to its caressing view!
One day will find the cure,
And, destroy YOU "The miserable ‘Breast Cancer’ Disease"
"ONCE AND FOR ALL!"
Dedicated to all the females of the world.
((And men whose life touched by this disease))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
The shining light hides behind my eyes,
Comes in a super nova surprise
My spirit glides into the skies,
Spreading the perfect heat like the sunrise
I was like a diamond under the beauty of the ocean!
My current rides out with smooth motions,
Leaving a taste with intense emotion
Captured by my tides, sunk to my love potion
The sun sends my waves like a mirage of snow
I got the moon to favor upon my glow
With every star touching my inner soul
A glimpse of darkness in my light entwining with a massive flow
Blinded by my own ECLIPSE!
My sun & moon collide
Until the day we both touch lips
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
I remember you, from when there was a spring
When the seasons were ripe, with verdant green
Our nimble feet danced in the wind
and on the brink of everything
Not a furrow in the brow of youth
We borrowed life for just awhile
and tapped our shoes on childhood's stage
where carefree laughter was the rage
that filled each age with promised smiles
We danced and twirled a twin ballet
just you and me on summer's waves
Two pirouettes, in mode of curls
of blossoms, frilled, and tender leaves
unfurled in winds, we found a way
to soar our wings, above the world
We knew not yet
of death or dying
or of regret, or cause for crying
But, something frowned upon the season
You caught the wind, and without reason
A colder wind
that kept you flying
far beyond my eyes could see
And to the other side
beyond my words
beyond my tears
Now here alone
I touch the day
and taste the night
I will walk alone, in autumn sun
And lay myself on dying leaves
I think of you and think of then
I feel the wind against my face
that sweeps me to a distant place
where I recall what time erased
I'm closer now... to hear the sound
The whisper of the seasons calling
Above the trees, the sky is blue
I think of you, and feel the breeze
And all the while, the leaves must fall
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Contest: BEST SAD POEM EVER II
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
I woke up that day with tears in my eyes,
after I heard about your father's demise.
Guess you've never understood,
the point of being his blood.
I remember when your mother left,
how he was totally bereft.
Ran off with the man next door,
not once did he call her a whore.
Not once did your mother call,
too busy having a ball.
Forgot about her only child,
to live a life fun and wild.
He knew he had to be strong,
so the world would do you no wrong.
Every night he held you tight,
his eyes your guiding light.
Every time you would cry,
he would kiss those tears dry.
Worked three jobs so you had the best,
not once did he fail in your request.
He suppressed all his sorrows deep inside,
he was broken but never did he subside.
Single he remained for the rest of his life,
dedicated to you, so you would not face strife.
Yet you too, decided to walk away,
tell me what led you astray?
You called him a religious bore,
when you ran out of that door.
He had your best interests at heart,
but you belittled him for not being smart.
Then you wonder why he finally broke,
all that stress gave him a deadly stroke.
Now you stand there with your unfaithful mother,
with someone who is young enough to be your brother.
Crocodile tears stream from your artificial face,
as his coffin is lowered into his final resting place.
How ironic it has started to pour with rain,
maybe it's God washing away all of his pain.
Don't come running to me for sympathy,
I have no time for those with no dignity.
All his sacrifices now you seem to realise,
but he can't hear you, it's too late to apologise.
Because of you he lived a life heartbroken,
forever you will regret those words unspoken.
If you think his inheritance will help your austerity,
he wasn't that stupid, he left it all to charity!
The Silent One
16 February 2018
Based on a true story
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2018
A few poems written by Chan Hurst, (Just That Archaic Poet)
I hope that we can find some comfort in them at this sad time.
"A Rational Explanation"
What must I do to see this through-
Unlock the world I never knew?
For all I've seen hath been untrue,
As all I've felt hath plagued me, too!
I am no more, past Deaths before
I've reached the end of Living War-
(to see through eyes both blind and closed)
A life to touch, but never know...
"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep"
Every day, to God I pray
For answers to Life's enigmas
Patience lays in wait to stay-
To cleanse our Social Stigmas
We pass the time in our idle Dreams:
Like fallen stars in singing streams
"A Happy Ending"
Remorse and regret, I mustn't forget
Remind me that Life is a process of Learning
Indeed for I sorrow'd; 'twas always upset
As the Truth was met with painful discerning
But now my eyes are open-wide,
Grew to love what I once despised
I am no longer sick inside-
I just feel happy to be alive
"A Master's Approval"
No happier could I ever be,
(Or feel a joy's enormity!)
Than to know a Soul as Poe-
Would say he likes my poetry!
"The Poets I Hope to Meet in Heaven"
I pray that in my Eternity,
I'll meet Shelley, Poe and Emily
That we'll all sit down at a table round,
And at length discuss our Poetry!
And Longfellow, lest we forget
Lord Byron, Shakespeare, and beloved Keats!
If I prove their favorite Poet,
I could accomplish no greater feat!
For all my many silly musings,
This one I covet above the rest
For my Soul's toil- finally proving
That the Masters love me best!
"Heaven For A Poet" by Kelly Deschler
My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to bed nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.
My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.
This poem was one of mine that Chan had faved, so I thought it would be appropriate to share this now and dedicate it to him.
I will always miss you, BP, my brother in poetry, but I sense that you are smiling down on us now.
I know that Chan idolized Edgar Allan Poe. I remember him telling me that someday,
he wanted to share a table in heaven with that "good ol' E.A. Poe".
So, Chan, if that is what you're doing now, I envy you, my friend!
And, you said that you would personally invite me to that little gathering, remember? :)
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Listen to poem:
I suck at dying poems
Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,
Hair falling out in the shower poems
And I told a half truth
When I told you I could write you one
In less than six months (It's been eight)
I apologize for being so late
I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful
Like those ribbons
I see all over the internet
Filled with cheesy generic rhymes
That could get me hired by Hallmark
I just know my metaphors will start melting
And that my similes will get all soft
I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off
I went to Google
And the typed in the word 'happy'
Three billion things came up
Not a single inference to
Breast cancer, hair loss
No redirects to mastectomies
The only thing research could teach me
Is that a good day on chemo
Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black
And has no blood in it
Or when your urine
Smells better on Wednesday
Than it did on Tuesday
Sleeping less than 12 hours
When 24 would be better
Still I refuse to finish this poem
Without something bright and hopeful
And I know I'm doing a horrible job
America has more poets
Than it does alcoholics
And Pot smokers combined
And you chose me to be
Your Breast Cancer
Trusting me to write a poem
About the biggest battle in your life
And don't think
I didn't notice your Facebook activity
Had decreased by 88%
In the last three months
And you aren't really
Coming to any more of my poetry shows
Ever again. Are you??
But we still have January, February
And how do you write
A Breast Cancer poem
With no references to breast
(I get embarrassed)
That would be some kind of Oxymoron
But even if you had one breast
Or no breast
or if you had less hair than I do
I promise to look only in your eyes
And never ever even notice
Or even think about it
And never for a moment
Would I feel sorry for you
Yes I suck at lying too...
But I don't suck at loving you
Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning
With no Cancer at all
And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside
Your bedroom window...
And I would be right there with you
Holding your hand while we look down on Paris
And you can impress me with your French again
And if I ever make it
To the Pulitzer Poetry board
I might lose a thousand points
Just for this poem alone
And my hopes for the prize will be smitten
And some old person with white hair will say
That this was the worst love poem ever written
Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016
Yes, life is tough!
I know there are struggles in life that we all go through.
Sometimes we secretly hide them away,
some for fear and others just because
they have no one who cares for them.
But you my dear,
I know you do not ask for much,
but I see sadness in your beautiful eyes.
I can feel your heartache
and those tears leaving trails down your cheeks.
You may not realise it,
but your pain becomes mine...
I ache for you too!
I'm here for you always.
Let me hold you awhile!
I want to wipe your tears away,
place the brightest star in your heart.
If pain can be transferred,
I would gladly take them from you,
carry the burden for you.
You are so dear to me,
I love you with all my heart.
You know I'll do anything for you,
I'll drive many miles to get you -
~ anytime ~ anywhere.
So head up baby!
Quit sitting still and letting sadness seep
its way deep into your heart and soul.
Come rest your head on my shoulder,
I will hold you close,
promise to never let go.
Dry those tears and let's start a new day.
Together we are strong
For contest: Togetger we are strong
Sponsor: Silent One
Copyright © Akkina Downing | Year Posted 2018
Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same,
That runs deep within our veins.
If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.
©2013 Honestly JT
Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013
Thirty Eight ( Corny Cancer Poem) For Sharon
Hallmark has a million cards in their catalog
And not one of them says,
American greetings had nothing that says
Thirty-eight and Never coming home
So I hope it’s not too late to write this poem
After your eighth round of Chemo,
The Doctor says the best medicine is prayer
Any Pre-med drop out
Or High school Health student
Can interpret what this means
But it still just isn’t fair-
Still who am I to be a pessimist?
And I apologize for screaming at your surgeons
(Telling them to stop comparing
your tumors to fruit)
For telling them you aren’t a damn fruit stand
Even for tossing those fruit diagrams
In the Hazmat can
Sorry if I let things get out of hand
Tomorrow they get to pull out
Their zapper instruments
And shoot at your cells like you are
One of those Nintendo video games
Over and over again
And I get to sit in the waiting room
Hoping the red cells surrender
And the white ones win
And Tylenol has a zillion dollars
And can’t even find a cure for cancer
Bayer pharmaceuticals has no answer
And if you die at thirty-eight
I’ll probably boycott Tylenol
For the next twenty-three years
Advil for the next twenty-two
Blaming both of them
For not saving you
Forty calls to Bayer pharmaceuticals
And not a single one returned
What kind of heroes are they
When they aren’t even concerned?
And I’m pissed off at Obama
And Dr. Phil and Oprah too
And all Nationally syndicated talk show host
Who are talking about who slept with who
When they should be talking about
I’m also ticked at a thousand Nazis
And twenty millions gangbangers
And eight-hundred serial killers
Who have working organs
When all you need is just one-
Still I know you wouldn’t even accept it
Even if there was a law that said you could
And you would say something corny like
God loves bad people as much
As he does the good
And i wish i could snatch
half of my lymph nodes
And give them to you
But no Doctor would approve the surgery
So what else can i do
Except write this silly poem for you
except watch you lose weight and hair
And listen to doctors suggest prayer
And more chemo only means
More Hallmark moments at the hospital
And more crying, more dying
More doctors and chaplains lying
But mostly I’ll never get to figure out
How it took you thirty minutes
At Build-A-Yogurt in the mall
And they only had six flavors-
Even after I told you
Chocolate Coconut Sprinkle
Was really the best of all
Tonight your children get to sleep in your bed
And pretend You’re coming home
And I get to cry for them and finish
This corny cancer poems
Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2015
The ship in the habor on silvery seas
Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon
Drifting in cold whispers of the night
Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees
In the loud echoes of the crawling winds
The brave ship nods its old head
Restless on the empty stage of the bay
When lonely stars bleed their light
On what was once earthly sublimity
Now silence and haunt lingers there
A graveyard of bones and sadness
Beside the desolate harbor
Rustling in the cold distance
Laboring with a haunting melody
That invades me in shivers of night.
The happy spaces of my mind
Then your sweet kiss would descend
Oh... your sweet kiss would descend
As a fragrant memory
Thawing the pain
In the frost of my heart.
My soul beckons your presence
But silence became my loyal friend
And Emptiness -
The sorrowing of my hours
That slithers through the night
As the brave ship nods its old head
Crackling and desolate
In silvered breaking waters
'Neath moon's limpid eyes
My hands descend
With crimson buds of April's flowers
To rest upon your tomb
Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''
Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2014
help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
Copyright © John Castro | Year Posted 2012
On you the angels did bestow
a glow your friends would come to know
For even stars cannot outshine
your countenance. It's as divine
Oh, how you hush those stars, my dear,
from brightly shining when you're near;
I too am stricken by your sight.
I'd love to be with you all night
Shine on, sweet man, but do not burn
too long or strongly; stars might turn
This was dedicated to one of my favorite poets at Soup. I am not sure if the contest rules about showing names applies to MY name AND the star's name or to both. So I am taking his name off the poem!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
When I think of India, I think of dark eyed beauties,
their foreheads painted with decorative red dots,
and I see them moving deliciously in beautiful bright costumes
as bangles dangle from their slender wrists.
When I think of India, I think of a culture steeped in history and tradition:
folkloric music, myths, and dance, and the influence of the Hindu religion.
I visualize the rich and poor alike bathing themselves in a river called Ganges.
I see an olden time when mighty elephants, colorfully decorated,
carried men atop their backs on elegant elephant seats,
and I recall pictures in my geography studies of the white sacred cows
freely roaming the narrow streets of Delhi.
I recall a novel I read: Rudyard Kipling’s engrossing tale of a jungle boy
and also other novels depicting a clash of cultures
as the British imposed their rules on Indian society.
I think of current movies showing the seedy side of India
such as one named Slumdog Millionaire and a movie to contrast it,
the romantic Bollywood delight named JabTak Hai Jaan.
Furthermore, I recall the grace and good nature of the Indian people
depicted in a film called The Best Ever Exotic Marigold Hotel.
When I think of India, I think of the Taj Mahal, Kama Sutra, and curry,
and also I recall horrible stories of Bride burnings now banned and by contrast,
the good works of Mother Teresa, who labored there among the poor, and
I think of the man who is probably the most recognized by Americans
as a good and strong example of leadership: Mahatma Ghandi.
All these things are the sum of what I have learned about India in my lifetime.
But what do I really know of India?
What I have learned recently relates to poets I have come to know at this website
and who have shown me through their poetry and their communication with me,
a more personal side of the Indian people that I never used to know.
Through the poetry of Ravindra I have learned the love of an Indian for his heritage
and how he emulates his father‘s work through beautiful translations.
From poets like BL and Jag, I’ve learned more about
the deep and philosophical nature of the Indian poet!
Through great friendships with people like Kashinath, Yesha and Yasmin, and Guatami
I have come to learn about the actual personalities of dear Indian people
whose life experiences, struggles and desires are not so different from my own,
and also I am able to enjoy their eloquent words as they describe
their own emotions, passions, and love of nature through their poetry.
Perhaps their culture adds a flavoring to their words and phrases
that is a bit different from my own,
but in the end, we are all alike beneath the skin.
Whether from India or any other country, we are, all of us,
becoming a part of a global community
in which our differing backgrounds can be accepted
and even better - celebrated!
Thank you I say to all my poet friends whose words enrich my life,
but in particular, today I thank my friends from India,
for helping me to really see how beautiful you are
and to understand your country better through knowing YOU.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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,
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,
shared with ease on our path,
thick with summer's dead leaves.
We, too young to notice,
fell into brittle leaves
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
Here I lie in the solace of my bed
Wrapped up in these sheets of grey
Looking out past the frosted glass
Out into the pitch dark of night
Oh the white puffs falling down
Little cotton balls so fluffy
Blanketing the barren ground
Brightening up the darkened night
Remembering our time together
those little snow ball fights
you putting snow down my back
you're first snow angel
How I want those days back
Here I lie in the solace of my bed
Still be mine
I know it feels right
Only time will tell
if you'll be my snow angel
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2014
A first day on Soup is filled with much awe
The wonderful poems will make you smile
Easy is it to fall for all
Some enabled my mind, lingering a while
Just the few Soupers I mention here
Will blow you away with works of this year!
Janet Cervenka almost made us lust
When she penned a piece on Heavenly's bust
Marvelous is the diversity of Jan Allison
Such a dressed gem, and she's only blooming
Nandita then tells us that she's no Jan
Indeed her craft is paralleled by none
Man! the lyrics never cease to flow for Dave
So highly endowed with a skill many crave
You see, my first day on Soup I was greeted by SKAT
Who so humbly laid down the welcome mat
And if there exist a bond no man can put asunder
I have to say it's between SKAT and Linda
O! How can I forget 'Half of A Heart'
A Sara Kendrick special, such design and art!
Who better to mend our Broken Wings
Than the namesake with a quill in full swing
Yes Soupers always brighten my days
Place me in velds full of beautiful haze
And there I spot a Mystic Rose
Defined so uniquely like a Kim Nunez prose
From a consummation a lover was denied
To the hautiness of a lonely man's pride
Whatever we plan to glimpse or scoop
We tend to leave with more from Soup
Copyright © Wilfred Aniagyei | Year Posted 2015
Listen to poem:
SOME STARS SHINE BRIGHTER
Some stars shine brighter
Some waves crash stronger
Some winds blow warmer
Some days are lovelier
Some friendships are eternal...
During our lives we meet a lot of people
But some will conquer a special place in our hearts
They'll be the ones for whom
We'll fight a little harder
We'll cry a little stronger
We'll cheer a little louder
We'll worry a lot over
They are the ones
That will always be there for you
Laughing with your happiness
Holding you during your tears
Some are in the same city
Others on a continent away
The distance doesn't matter
For we carry them always
In our minds and in our hearts
So they're never really far away from our thoughts
So my dear and sweet friend
Thank you for allowing me in your life
For always be there for me
Thanks for being my rock
You've a heart of gold
The most beautiful soul
Your light shine thru your poems
Your care and attention thru your words
I'll be always here for you too
Cheering for you every step of your way...
Take care of yourself and come back to us fast...
And... never forget...
To just be yourself
Because you're simply perfect
Just the way you are...
...and very much loved, my dear friend...
Love you, Darren
March 28th, 2017
Copyright © Claudia Polydoro | Year Posted 2017
The Perfect Friend ©
Today I found a friend
Who knew everything I felt
She knew my weakness
And the problems I’ve been dealt.
She understood my wonders
And listened to my dreams,
She listened to how I felt about life and love
And knew what it all means.
Not once did she interrupt me
Or tell me I was wrong
She understood what I was going through
And promised she'd stay long.
I reached out to this friend,
To show her that I care
To pull her close and let her know
How much I need her there.
I went to hold her hand
To pull her a bit nearer
And I realized this perfect friend I found
Was nothing but a mirror
Written by Shannen Wrass
Copyright © 1995 Shannen Wrass. All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Shannen Wrass | Year Posted 2013
death is near-
a fading out tomorrow will never be-
gone away an empty shell will dwell
birds and butterflies come fluttering
wings as soft as a spider web
andthecurtainsstir in the open window
like a bird of prey
and hummingbirds hover in heavenly harmony
streaming down her shoulders
the clock of time stops the end has come
deep blue is the sky beyond this realm
birds and butterflies come fluttering
and hummingbirds hover in heavenly harmony
bluebirds are twittering in the trees
a long breath
the moment of death a heaviness descends
like a bird of prey
her head like a dead flower the mind dies
a peacefulness alightthatfillstheroom her spirit leaving
and on the bedside
a beautiful bouquet of red roses dulcet fullofscent
o her life was fleeting
infused with happiness beauty laughter
the dream has ended the final curtain has dropped
farewell my beauty Ikissherlips her still warm hand
outside a gentle rain has begun
falling on theweepingwillowtree
my weeping tears
dropping soaking her blanket
June 26, 2015
Free Verse/"death of a friend"
Copyright Protected, ID 684720
Submitted to the contest, Any Poem You Are Proud Of
Sponsor, Mystic Rose
I am proud of this poem because I wrote right after the death of my friend,
she died of cancer and I was with her at the end witnessing it through the eyes
of a poet. It is my most viewed poem and I was able to capture the style
of E.E. Cummings perfectly in my opinion.
Submitted to the contest, A poem You Are Proud Of #3
Submitted to the contest, Death and Dying
sponsor, Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
I want to thank 101 poets, when words have no limit.
All 101 spots full of flowing imagery and spirit.
Nathan Dilts my #1~writing for him was so much fun.
Nikko's, words are like a shot at roulette~smoking writes like a cigarette.
Writes of fashion from Michael J.~Compares nothing to the writes of Chris A.
Linda our Sweetheart poet~the opposite of Sidney the Mad poet.
John Loving iii, your voice and heart are nice~Through God your words are like advice.
Gert Knop, Dr. Ram, and Robb A. Kopp, the inspiration is none stop.
Andrea D.~her poetry can sure teach me
Sara K., Doris C., Karen O' Leary, Carol B., Deborah G., their all okay with me.
What if I left out Billy K., and Royal T.~how rude would that be.
Harry H., Frank H., Robert L.H., Daver A., and Ravindra K. K.,again how young are they.
A special hi 2 Mattew A., Wilma N., Gerard J. K, Sharon Rubel, and Marycile Beer.
Anthony N., Amy Sulivan, and Anthony B.,~three poets who's poetry are a hit with me.
Ryan E., Dakarai C., Jayne E., and Juan P.G. thanks for always remembering me.
Lynette C. where the H3!! are you~ don't U know we miss U.
Ruben O., John R., Thivia S., Tahera Manna, Katherine S, and Felishia Murphy~hello!
Heather Hill, Joe Maverick, Joy Wellington, Chuck Keys~smile and say cheese.
Audonus T, James P., Cecil H., Diane C., Celene C., Nicole S.B, and Susan Palli.
Kimberly H. Constance, Kevin S., Shelo Morbid~ write poetry that makes you think and hurt.
Delilah V. Jani-K. V., Debra Eckstein, very suave along with Grace E. Song Lee.
Michael G, Anderson T, Taha Effendi, Margeret Bailey, Mia Nuranti~ yes even you Francine.
HI! Sandra Stefanowich, Catie Lindsey, Emily K., Emilia R., and Carrie R..
James(JIMBO) ,Valentino J., Kelechi E., Randall S., Yasmin K., and Nette O.,hello!
Linda Milgate, David B., Jamecia B., Kris W., David Smalling, & Sylvia C., hi to all of tee.
a.k.a Lil Princess J, The Rockstarr's Princess this line is all 4 you.
Connie M. W., Daniel C., Daniel L., Sasha M., Kay'Sha T., and Raskin B.
Peter K., Bulinya M., Scarlett W., Ralph T., Larry B., Sharon T., & Sarah H.
Teresa S., Sydney P., Earle B., Ryland M., and John Freemen
Mike Butler, Rinki N., Joyce J., Robert A.D, Milton T., Pyhllis B.,~are all sweet
Guy-A.D., Zera M., Hintendra M., and Don J.
Every poet on the soup inspires me in every kind of way.
Might as well add my #1 Nathan D., all over again.
Don't think I forgot about Skat,~ We're like Siamese cat.
To all my poet friends who love paper and pen.
101, profiling friends.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013