Best Friendshipold Poems
Like butterflies are some I know,
Who passing, catch my eye.
They flit and flutter to and fro,
And then . . . Away they fly!
But I prefer the bush I see,
Upon which they alight
Because each year she offers me
A bright and sure delight.
The blossoms springing forth from her
Are of the sweetest hue,
A crimson red, my heart to stir,
My spirit to renew.
Winged beauties are to summer days
And pretty flowers drawn.
Despite their charming social ways,
By winter they’ll be gone.
My stalwart bush, through winds and rains,
From spring till winter's end,
Unlike the butterflies, remains,
And she is named "True Friend."
For P.D's(who is a friend to all)
for any old butterfly poem...... Poetry Contest
(I have at least five old butterfly poems and I hope
I chose one you like).
A country which holds so much I wish to hold.
Venerate friend, old forgotten memories, or new cognizance to him.
Goddess hold my favor and keep him close to my anima.
He is honorable and altruistic and that speaks to me.
Venerate friend, old forgotten memories, or new cognizance to him.
Walks in the park, tours of castles, hold my hand, ameliorate my grief.
He is honorable and altruistic and that speaks to me.
Credence, adulation, and reverie await me in Germany.
He is honorable and altruistic and that speaks to me.
Goddess hold my favor and keep him close to my anima.
Credence, adulation, and reverie await me in Germany.
A country which holds so much I wish to hold.
I miss my old friend
Michael Jordan
And sometimes I wonder
How is he doing
And I pray
To read the old gospeller again
Tumbling fire into words
Breaking Lucifer's chain
Renouncing the bitter past
And casting spells upon hearts
That wait for his spring to come
And often I wonder
Did the rain ever fall
Did the new grass grow good
As he wanted it to
O and I pray he is not sick
Nor hurting in pain
I long to read the old gospeller again
And feel the fire of another soul
Burning the wrongs of earth.
Where have you been my dear old friend?
I’ve been cast aside and blown by the wind.
But who could do such a thing to you?
Look in the mirror for the who’s who.
Are you saying that I am the one?
There is no other to cast the blame on.
But how could I have done such a thing?
That is the question that still remains.
You must understand the position I’m in.
Does that matter when it comes to old friends?
Please don’t hate me for what I’ve done.
What do you expect when you have been shunned?
I made a mistake this much I know.
Now you need to learn to let go.
How can you do this to your old friend?
You did it to me, too late to amend.
I guess this is it, our friendship now through.
The price you must pay for not being true.
© All Rights Reserved 07/14/09
Nathan Bane Leccese
My Newest Old Friend.
Scene: Front of my (Grandma’s) apartment at the Beach.
Characters: Three young boys, around twelve, ten and eight.
Grandma, 73 yrs old. (We’ll call her “G”)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time: Day before yesterday.
The three boys are standing next to my parking place,
Dripping wet in their bathing suits
Munching on some snack or other.
We’ve never met before.
They are staying here at the beach,
For the weekend.
G, after a long day,
Struggles to get out of her Jeep.
She is wearing Ed Hardy shoes,
and a jacket with skulls on it.
The twelve year boy old giggles.
G: Are you laughing at me?
Boy: No, You’re Cool !
G: Do you think I’d go over well in Miami?
Boy: Yes.
G. Bye, I’ve got to go to the mailbox.
Boy: See ya later, alligator,
In the hip hop clothes!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time: Today.
Characters: G and the twelve year old boy.
G. Is standing on the second floor stairs balcony.
Boy is coming back from taking pizza box to the trash.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
G: Hi. What’s up?
Boy: Nothin’. What’s up with you?
G: I’m going to a picnic.
Boy: I’m going to the Beach. See ya later.
This boy is now G's ”newest old friend.”
Granny Marjorie,
Can be sometimes cranky
Granny Marjorie,
Loves to smoke her cigars and drink coffee
Granny Marjorie,
Has a friend named “TV”
Granny Marjorie,
Asks for pastry puffs when she’s hungry
Granny Marjorie,
Heard me play with Rosy
Granny Marjorie,
Remembered good memories with Monty
Granny Marjorie,
Seemed so happy
Granny Marjorie,
Smiled and looked at me, “Don’t grow old my young lady.”
(Granny Marjorie is 90+ years old and as dementia.)
When I was a just a kid this happened to me
Living on a ranch in southern New Mexico, nest to a railroad
The Sun still had plenty of Jalepeno in it, was late September
Dad and I were working on a water well, soon became three
Like slow moving warmed over death, a old hobo came off the railroad
A sad sight as I remember
He had been walking for 3 days out of El Paso
His lucky penny was worn thin, nothing to eat or drink
He asked Dad, "You have any water Sir, God I am thirsty"
We took him to the ranch, soon he became our best amigo
He was no fool, could make a Harvard professor think
Never really knew his name, we just called him Thirsty
Dad hired him and Mom put plenty of food on his plate
All he asked for was a bed, smokes and coffee
In little or no time he was working all day
Never complained, just dealing with his fate
A bum no, a hobo yes, that was old Thirsty
A King Of The Road type of a man, just his way
He was the big brother I never had, I was the son he left behind
He worked all day long, then play ball with me after school
I learned a lot from that man, a lot about life
Riding in a boxcar was just his kind
His railroad was The Golden Rule
Good as gold and sharp as any knife
Cold nights around an old wood stove with coffee in hand
Telling railroad stories, that is what he taught me
The rules of the road, the hobo way
If I ever had to ride a boxcar around this land
Then one day, Thirsty just had to be free
Boxcar fever set in, Old Thirsty heard the old train that day