Life Narrative Poems | Examples
These Life Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Life. These are the best examples of Narrative Life poems written by international poets.
I am wandering the wilderness of life searching,
'tortured by the taste of touch' and desire,
I feel the heart and pulse of the forest,
the cadence, the rise and fall, the music of Wind
through the trees- he is whispering and calling my name,
as leaves and flower petals dance and twirl-
Oh, Wind, my love- I have hungered for your caress.
working on my poem
Wow, the simple pleasures of life!
Remember when just a tan suit was the highlight and topic of discussion on all the news channels?
Yes, a tan suit had the volume turned all the way up and had them in a complete uproar, not no scandals, no corruption, no Epstein files, no bribery, no delusional post and memes, no need for greed, no late night rants and raves, no self obsessions… just a lil ole plain tan suit.
Well, things have truly changed since then, because look at where we are now, smh.
But, as you can see, this what happens when you turn leadership into leader ssh.
Wow!!! What a difference in a day, a person, a country and a mindset.
I opened the bedroom door
a voice from inside says
"wait...not yet"
Gave me goosebumps and chills
Without moving for three seconds ... 1-2-3
the room was empty
A meeting with the spirit world
it is impossible to say
- incapable of solution
A culture is sustained by its traditions
And its quality is known by the fruits
Of those traditions.
We live in a time of change
When tradition is challenged and discarded
Simply for being traditional.
We don’t know what will replace it
We just want “hope and change”
With blind faith it’ll be better.
But that’s not the way civilizations are built
That is how they are destroyed.
When the bottom falls out
Morals are abandoned
Values are reversed
The baby is thrown out
And the old dirty bathwater consumed
As if nectar.
Then drunk on delusion
The revelers cry
When in the morning
The large, shiny Trojan Horse is empty
And it’s clear their life will never be the same.
(8/30/26)
The roots of man go so deep
Some little rodent perhaps
Thoroughly relieved the dinosaurs
Are at last all gone.
And here and now
Always a mid point between past and future
The future likewise unforeseeable
Other than a vague sense of continuity.
From that future
A hundred million years from now
This past I sit in
Will be as unknown and unrecognizable
As my little mammalian ancestor’s.
Does this make it all meaningless?
Hell no!
It makes each step and stage
Miraculous.
(8/11/26)
One night I 'met' someone I thought was meant for me.
We 'talked' for hours while our souls aligned perfectly.
Each night brought our minds to blissful sync.
Sometimes I worried, "What does he really think?"
He adamantly professed his love for me
And beguilled me with ethereal poetry.
His silver words so mystically divine,
I thought them from a higher realm than mine.
He captured my heart totally in his net.
When the scam was revealed, I only felt regret.
Alas, nothing on the dark web is what it seems.
Just another deviant low-life crushing dreams.
Do you remember 2020
When the world was Covid crazy
And those in power
Did everything to fuel the fear
Enrich themselves and ultimately harm billions
And kill tens of millions?
I do. I remember their death cult.
And I clearly remember
It was a time of mass hysteria for willing sheep.
What is the justice
For such a massive lie?
So far nothing,
But I wouldn’t bet my life on that.
(7/29/26)
Today, out along the east property line
Driving in extra posts to shore up
The ancient and decrepit fence
Carol comments on imagining
What it was like out here before radio
When there was only the sound
Of wind and birds and cows,
And I think how it wasn’t that long ago
And how 99.999% of human history
Was just that way
And how I lived a summer like that in my youth
Building a house while camping
Under a pair of big ponderosas
And a sky full of stars.
And how it was the happiest time of my life
But how it too passed
As our life accelerated up through the centuries.
Today mending fence
It’s nice to be reminded of our roots
And recall all the things we must have done
When life was simpler
And having each other
Was all that mattered.
(7/26/26)
It all began back in September
Less than a year, what a year to remember
A hug on sight was definitely a must
The hunger for love was a hunger for lust
From the sparkle in my eyes to the passion in my soul
From the words that were spoken, to the ones never told
From the beauty with the fire
To the one with no desire
Our purpose was fulfilled and now it is so
The song came to an end, us and the video
Don’t know if any wounds in time will mend
But I’m glad to say, you’re still my friend
Can time ever be measured by a moment in the heart?
Can it ever learn to stand still for the times we are apart?
Love had its time to shine, looking back from now to then
With five loses up to date and zero yet to win.
On the Marta, on the Marta
My son met yo daughter
He was scrolling on his phone, then he looked up and caught her
Smiling at him, they started talking on the Marta
She said she was hungry
Should he take her out to eat?
Yeah, I think he oughta
So they got off the Marta
She wanted grits, eggs and bacon
So that’s what he bought her
Put cheese on yo grits was what he taught her
It didn’t cost much, only an extra quarter
And as for a drink, well, she only wanted water
After their meal, they got back on the Marta
As far as them dating, it didn’t go any farther
But that’s how they spent their day on the Marta, lol
(“Mind’s Eye Merit Badge”, 2020, original oil)
I like to bathe more than shower.
Sure, I have to stew in a mix of old cells
And soapy scum,
But I find it more relaxing
And somehow less wet than showering.
I also get to see all the debris that washes
Off of me
And this is almost as satisfying to see
As it is to feel.
Maybe that’s part of what others prefer
About showers, the fact they don’t have to see
All the debris.
It’s a metaphor for Life you could say
We gather and shed
And then wash it all away.
The best part really is that in the end it’s just
Water down the drain.
(6/29/26)
"Styx"
Eyes that run rivers
reflect Styx crossed.
The Journey commences
spilled from inside
the nowhere land,
risen from a metaphorical drowning -
poetic,
worldless boundaries
of a tablecloth moment,
where shining cutlery is set just so,
in the correct placement -
The Last Supper,
we sit across from each other,
grace is not uttered before the meal
there is nothing left between us -
poetic.
What’s left?
A life stolen -
I let you go.
What will be, will be.
Along the road,
another life, calls me,
Home.
What will be, will be.
I let you go.
Along the road,
Life calls you -
Home.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
I’m in retirement now
And so I try to do as little as possible
As such, my waking life
Has become a respite
Not so much from my past career
But from my nightly dream world
Where my life is a constant turmoil
Of new places, new people, new selves even
A constant whirlwind
I fortunately don’t remember most of
But what I do remember
Takes a full day of doing nothing
To recover from.
(6/16/26)
Lessons learned from my grandmother
Have served me well over the years.
One lesson was about 'haste and pace'.
She'd say, "Go in a haste; come in a pace".
I'd ask, "Was she being poetic, or was she
Wanting us to be more energetic?" I have
Since Concluded that our grandma was
Teaching us about a life of balance.
Make haste if at times you must.
Make a fuss and kick up dust.
But when the dust has settled,
And the race is on the line,
Have a simple understanding
About time and space.
Finish with a plan in a pace;
Finishing, not hastily, but gracefully.
This poem I read
Was infused with energy.
I'm certain there was no attempt to do so,
But for a second or two, it rendered me sad.
The sadness quickly turned to inspiration.
The words shouted and stood up like a giant.
It spoke of living with a life of pain, but the
Victim is free and permeated with creativity.
There wasn't the slightest hint of self pity.
This poem builds platforms for human rockets.
At times when my heart is set aflame,
This poem will chill and seal my heated lips.
I saw no victim but a conqueror, a champion.
I saw no quiter, but a dedicated finisher.