Long And friendship Poems
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Beyond the doubt words won’t describe the absolute of friendship
I will just point out things that make friendship so wonderful
It is full filling in all, and many ways, a delight in life ahead, and true
It is as simple as nature that we view, friendship grows with thorns
With blooming buds, that are bright, and root that holds the heart
Bound for no reason friendship would never end without disaster
Living all without a doubt, more so equal to each other in many ways
Friendship does not lie, and if so it is for a good reason to keep
The strength that is with two is stronger bond that one, but never so
Two does not make things strong, because if they do not bond
They tear and they break, or snap at the heart, simple but true
Friendship is part of being human, and that cannot ever go away
Friends are humble, respectable, honorable, and loyal to the end
Looking out into the world it is seldom known you are not alone
Never having to fear someone beside you who will reveal
Never having to worry about sadness in the heart because
The friend will never regret a moment of time spent with you
Live without pointing fingers and words that stray, friends are you
One true friend an opposite sex, which feels the same feelings as you
When your smile is just for that friend, and that friends smile is for you
Never a doubt that will never come true, that feeling of reinsurance
The smile is not a fabrication of just to smile; it is smiles that stand true
My passion for her, is none other, my heart does not ache but ache
With enormous energy surges that I can take, she makes me smile
Friendship for miles, is so shocking and feelings cannot be denied
I hope to hope, that these words reach her, because she is special
No doubt, No sadness, No harm and most of all I can say she is not alone
I just can’t shake her smile, her true soul; it’s a shadow of my own
Guys, Gals, Acquaintance and Family, but it is hard to speak to them
Friendship till the end, is what I know that I need to know
So I met and I chat, with whom I believe is becoming a best of best friend
She has the same feelings and I have the same feelings, so this?
Is this? The friendship I have been looking for? I wonder and I smile
This smile is true, not fake, it is more ideal, that just a dream
So what I am saying is, is this the view of friendship that’s true?
Cindy
By Franklin Price
03/04/2022
When I first met you Cindy, you were another person's spouse
You became a friend to Barb and me, were always welcome in our house.
People always stopped and stared, your beauty was in bloom
You were then, a trophy wife, when you walked into the room.
We all became the best of friends, rode Harleys everywhere
Whenever someone saw us, all the rest of us were there
You and Barb became the best of friends, went in business together
Through thick and thin you persevered, through clear and stormy weather
You left the marriage you were in, and you moved on to another
Searching for some satisfaction with a younger biker brother.
I'm thinking that the sex was good. You married him. What for?
Though your looks were of perfection, had love to give and so much more.
Barbara saw that more within you, your intelligence came through.
You were more than just an object, you had more in life to do
You were more than just a play thing, Barb had made you realize,
The work, and love and friendship, had really opened up your eyes.
All our lives were changing, Barb's and mine had turned about.
Billy's and her heads were banging and I had to get her out.
We moved to North Carolina, where it took her several years
To come to grips, and stabilize, and dry up most her tears.
We were saddened by departing, leaving everyone behind
But if we did not do it, she would have lost her freaking mind
You took over all the business, and you really made us proud
You are more than just an object, you're a standout in the crowd.
You've divorced your biker buddy, and took back your maiden name,
Still printing out “Checks on Demand”. You are changing up your game.
Barbara has passed away, all her pain on earth is through
I'm still here and cheering, for some joy and peace for you.
I would love to be a part of that, as we travel on through life
You have lost your best friend Barbara, who was my own best friend and wife.
We both have friends and family who will help us move along
I would like us to be more than that. Does that make my liking wrong?
You make my heart beat faster when I call you on the phone
To hear your voice assures me that I'll never be alone
Her love brings us together. She's so much of who we are.
She's still resides within us, she'll always be our shining star.
In 2018 there were four who exited life's door never to return. There was an additional one whom I feared might also depart, but he recovered from his sickness and now continues his mission. My acquaintance with each of them was for many years a God-send. Each of them entered this world and walked upon the stage of life.
We enter this world one by one and at once our stories begin to unfold and later to be told. There's much to be told between the dashes, but here I speak of exits only and how they contrast. In years past I paid meager attention to little things that in the grand scheme of life are not small. I see and observe more now, feel more deeply what surrounds me, especially when they take their exits. I apologize if it appears small to you, but to me it is huge.
It's the exits of four men in 2018 of which I speak. Men of my acquaintance and friendship who completed their mission. It is not their demise that arrests me, but I am somewhat captured by their contrasting exits. I was privileged to sit and talk with one and pray with him in his dying days. We spoke of some pleasantries we shared together, and I was pleased with being allowed to say goodbye. With another who did not linger, I rushed to his bedside some three days before his demise. He observed me with a stare, unable to respond as I stroked his hands and head. My third friend was a public figure and received a public celebration before his final exit. At the end of the service, I kissed the top of his head saying, "Goodbye, I love you."
The sun, having received its commission, rises in the east and proceeds with its daily mission of providing light and energy. It then sets in the west often with the most awesome glow, beautifying the horizon. But sometimes, the sun exits or sets contrastingly with a rainbow or even cloud cover, like the exit of my fourth and final friend whose passing was sudden and more arresting than the others. Less than 60, much younger than the others, he departed without a word. However, several days before his departure, I was privileged to spend a few telling moments with him. Contrasting exits. Yours and mine; Only God knows how it will end. But because of Christ, it can be good.
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Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.
Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.
Today I move to another state and leave all of my friends behind,
yea, everyone does move eventually, but everyone moving hates it.
My friends are more than friends to me, they're my family,
they are my support, my helping hand ones, that kept me from falling.
And I want to thank every single one of them,
to voice just how much they all mean to me.
Thank you for being there when I was struggling and drowning in misery,
when I was going through troubled times and your hand was there to help me.
Thank you for the advice you told me when I wanted to give up,
the kind words to keep my head up when I wanted to put it down and give up.
Thank you for not judgeing me for what I couldn't control, though I tried,
and for staying my friend and listening to my issues even when you had your own to deal
with.
Thank you for hanging out with me when i finally could do so,
the times staying up late even when we had school the next day.
For the awesome experiences that I always wanted to do,
but couldn't for stupid reasons I couldn't reverse.
For letting me tag a long when you went somewhere for the day,
even if your boyfriend was there and we hadn't seen each other in a year.
I know we will all go our seperate ways,
I knew it when we graduated, that life wasn't going to be as wild as it was.
But we'll all be fine, and one day, I hope that we'll get back together,
and have a day like we did when we were young and in school.
Thank you to everyone of my friends that didn't judge me but hugged me,
who taught me to be srtonger than what I was, and told me I didn't have to be sad.
I always had a smile on my face when I was around my friends,
because they all kept me laughing even when I wanted to cry.
When I left my father and his family behind, I thought I had no one,
but my Friend and her family took me in under their wing.
I'll NEVER forget the kindness shown to me by her and her children,
I was apart of a family again, and I didn't feel lonely.
I had all my friends and realized just how lucky I was,
and I wasn't ever lonely, even when I felt like it.
And again, I thank every single one of them,
I'll be back to visit, my promise to you.
Thank you sooooo very much,
for everything I ever recieved from you all.
*hugs and friendship forever*
Form:
To seek a twist that turns a soul, toward two open hands,
A street wise urchin scours the lanes, where likewise understands,
And so the circle quickly spins, back to the gutter place,
Where there’s no need of feeling, or chance of saving face.
This wandering a dreary trail, soon drags the body down
For these folks with daily lives, who’ve never known renown.
Where wayside stop agenda’s, offer nil but one day hope,
And little chance of learning, or a vision how to cope.
Of course the word of ‘open house’, is known and known so well
Amongst the fiery feel let down, whose marching’s been to hell.
So now the wish of life has changed, from down beat getting by.
Some choose to find a Christian peace. Then for God here am I.
Talking straight and being fair, through lessons soon decide,
The pendulum won’t always swing, to seek the other side,
So method swings to meet the mood. Find tracks thought overgrown.
Trust begins to grow in strength, and friendship seeds are sown.
Put to the mind are simple tasks, that most don’t even dream,
Like having faith in human kind, or be part of a team,
So not surprised the answer, from a simple questionnaire,
Would you rather have my wisdom, or be a millionaire?
Of course the answers simple, money buys the world for you,
And like you were in days gone by, do what you want to do.
But tell me were you happy, with what you did without this gold!
I’m sure you’ll find my wisdom, gave warmth to stimulate your cold.
I’ve watched your feeling’s change, for the betterment no doubt.
To see you itching for the world, and wanting to get out
To face the challenge’s on offer, with your heart set on tradition,
And honesty within your soul, for a lifetime of ambition.
Faith the timeless healer, once again has conquered all.
Where once a ceaseless tempest grew, is now a minute squall.
I know there will be tempting times, I’ve seen this all before
In the glow of being proud, there’s a knock upon the door.
No better child stands near me now, although the worse for wear.
‘Tis I that holds the privilege when, I’m offering my care.
It hurt’s to see old spirit broke; I must build on this chance,
For there are no bad children. Just bad circumstance.
Harry (written by Steven Cooke)
He stairs through the window
In wheelchair he knows,
Gabriel is just a pause behind him.
His last duty, to open a door in his mind
Of memories torn from 1917, where he left,
Jack Fred and Bert, Pals forever.
A moment singled out from a thousand days of torment
Bully Beef, Baccy and sweet tea in the Morning.
A pair of socks from a loved one,
And friendship forged in the baptism of War.
These were his treasures, His only relief
Then the guns of Britannia, manufacturing widows by the gross, as
Gas and Shell screamed for their quota of today’s carcass.
For a moment Harry felt sadness for his foe
Then it was gone
No time,
Heart Beating, Breath quickening, Stomach in Knots,
Fear held in check to avoid the Officer’s gun,
No time left, Stay Close Jack, Fred glanced,
While Bert squeezed a locket around his neck
A quick nod, The Soldiers farewell
Then the whistle, Gabriel’s Horn, over the top
His refuge abandoned, for the embrace of the fog,
It masked the land, as if to avoid offending God
Slowly creeping its vale of death,
Gun in hand they walked into the grey.
Fodder for the Machine gun, No defense, we fall.
Once more our lads are summoned into oblivion.
There blood sanitizing the soil with England’s youth
Like a red carpet, for their comrades to walk the next day.
Then the retreat, back to his rat infested trench
Gods reward he thought,
Then Role call, Silence for Jack, Silence for Fred, and Silence for Bert
Harry felt shame in answering, for a second; he too wanted to embrace silence with
his pals.
But Soldiers must go on, as do the righteous
And England expects
For I fight for a Heavenly cause, so I’m told,
Though I do not know what that is
All I know is fear
Although this impostor, I can live with
You see my friends are gone;
My humanity is lost
And my soul awaits its next trial
Is it a blessing that I am alive or,
Just a delay,
For death stalks me, waiting for his reward.
My sanity saved only by the sweet tea and a ***,
Dry socks, and a letter or two from home.
No time for sentiment, the whistle,
Memories, memories.
Oh, there you are Gabriel welcome.
Hello lads where you been.
Form:
I asked GOD one day, in my small, little voice,
"What does it matter, whatever the choice?"
So as the sun dazzled, the breeze softly said
"It only will matter just before you are dead."
And it shocked me to hear FATHER'S words, crystal clear.
But my spirit was listening when HE whispered "Don't fear.
"For you are MY child, and I have something in mind."
So I waited and wondered, and hoped HE'D be kind.
He said, "Daughter, I know that you've been so alone.
"And I know that you feel as if starting to drown.
"This gift, I will promise, will come when it's time.
" Just know that a rhythm will flow to your rhyme.
"But patience is key, I know it is hard.
"But also, I know the heart that you guard.
" And because I love you, and this love you emit,
"Do not despair, or think you should quit.
"As certain past trials have left you betrayed,
"There is someone I know that also has prayed."
And I looked to the heavens, with tears in my eyes.
"Oh child, know that I hear all your cries.
"You will no longer feel you are lost in a sea.
"There is another that has been calling to ME.
"And with love, and light, and friendship to start,
"One day this love will open his heart.
"He will see you with eyes he did not know that he had.
"And you will wonder how you ever felt bad.
"But you have to be strong and walk in your faith."
But I thought to myself, "I don't think I can wait."
HE smiled and suddenly I knew it was true.
Then all of a sudden, I was meeting you.
And even not knowing, that you were the gift,
Something inside me started to shift.
But I somehow forgot of that chat with my GOD.
And I began living where demons had trod.
I do not remember the exact time or place,
That I fell into step with HIS mercy and grace.
Throughout these years that we've been aligned,
It's simply amazing to me that I find
You in my thoughts as I sleep, when I wake.
No matter the distance, or the time it might take.
So I know, without question or doubt
That everything has a way and works out.
And I love you beyond what I'd hope it could be.
Because when I prayed for you, HE gave you to me.
to fiic
love fiik
12/22/2024
Our lives center around love, dreams and a common wish to be forever surrounded by happy (and for the poet, poetic) themes. Just close your eyes and set yourself free! Escape to that place where Light & Happiness unites with Love & Eternity. A meeting that can only take place when you flee the social confinements this world and our society often impose. Look forward to a happiness that is within your power to create-- Be the master of your own destiny!
A bird of hope and love takes flight, and with it dreams can soar to an even greater height. Where there is a will there is a way, for love to finally stay. Although it might have journeyed far and wide, its wings never saw rest, yearning for its true loving nest. The place where fidelity exists, because love persists. A place where bonds of affection remain unbroken and a lifetime of happiness is all that's spoken. And all that remains for us to do is choose--choose to pursue that path of flight, where truth and friendship never fight. Then, and only then, will you find your days in this world to be filled with calm and serenity and a Great Light---The Light With No End!
>>>>>These words you write
>>>>>>>>are burning real bright
>>>>>>>>>>like birds flying at night
>>>>>>>>>>>>>maybe doves, all white
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>as they attract this light
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>falling from this height
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>and enhancing my sight
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>knowledge with might
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>perceive what's right
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>sadness can take flight
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>and forgetting my plight
>>>>>>>A HUMAN BEING >>>>>>>>>>>no longer feeling contrite
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>my nerves are now tight
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>to continue with this fight
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>now gone is this, my spite
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>making my feelings sprite
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>with your true kindness
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>my heart did you smite
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>giving me renewed might
>>>>>>>>>>>>>to be forever in your site
>>>>>>>>>>>your loving, shining knight
>>>>>>>>protecting you each night
>>>>>>holding you ever so tight