Most Viewed Friendship Poems (1,087)

Today is a beautiful Day
I'm sending..
you a lot of love and hugs ...
to make your day even more better!

Have a Beautiful Day my Poetry Friends!!

It is not because you are beautiful
Or that look I see within your eyes
Or the height of every wistful willow
That reaches so far unto the skies
It is not because the world goes round
And all the seas lap around your toes
Or the merry go round that makes you smile
Or that lovely crinkle you have in your nose
It is not because you walk with grace
And blades of grass bow to your wake
And every mighty mountain trembles
From the soft footsteps that you take
It is not because the snows will melt
From the pure radiance of your glow
Or the hunger of the parched Serengeti
Will bleed anew as you make rivers flow
It is not because you are beautiful
That the Sun shines down every day
And every blade of grass that is cut
Turns into the most glorious yellow hay
It is not because the world goes round
That makes life every brand new day
It is just because
You are you

I for one, did not miss
Your shadow as it crossed between
The two horizons that
Would seem to me an
Apparition of the past, yet I knew
You not well my fellow prisoner of
All that would hold us close and
Yet keep us strangers apart
For fear of a future that dwells in the past
Can only have meaning for those
That would not choose to live for
Today
So you came to me, not readily, but
With a heavy heart that bore
The consequences of a life gone by
And once again you chose the path of
Lonely existence for history would
Forever be your reticence, so like
The lonely Wolf
You vanished as you appeared, and yet
I would sense the sadness of your soul
But I would always whisper adieu
For some things are not for the capturing
And must remain
Forever blossom on the wind

Astounding poet, philospher and friend
Nicest man you would ever want to meet
Dramatc and inspiring poems with subtle bends
Rhetorical with opinions and ever a literary treat
Entertaining to all and not one to pretend
Wise in his knowledge and still ever sweet
Best wishes on your Birthday my poet friend
Days of wine and roses and pleasant things to eat

I wrote to you, last week
About pain
Not yours, nor mine
But ours
For it is best served
In small dishes
And shared
Garnished
With feelings
Crowned with emotions
And accompanied
By a salted sauce
Of tears

When the pain was over
We smiled
And shared
A rich dessert
Of laughter

All washed down
With a bottle of hope
A cup of love
And a sorbet of dreams

Against a Cumbrian sunset statuesque,
In slanted beams she beckons me to grace,
Breathtaking views, the ink of nature's desk,
My heart to pen a smile upon her face.
Majestic jagged hills oft' touch a cloud,
Stooping to the lakelands deepened soul,
Penrith wraps our Love in scented shroud,
Sweet English rose, my Irish heart you stole.
Blinded by the beauty that surrounds,
None more fair than her pale countenance,
I on her blowing tresses place a crown,
To celebrate our close poetic dance.

Fond moments that I dream can't come too soon,
When yonder we will kiss to nature's swoon.

May you always find blue skies above your head
Shamrocks beneath your feet;
Laughter and joy aplenty,
And kindness from all you meet.

Good friends and kin to miss you
If you ever choose to roam;
And a path that's been cleared
By the angels themselves
To carry you safely home.

So varied are the hues of poetic pen,
With a multitude of exploding coloured ink,
In endless shades to choose from now, and then,
To set the writing mood, into which we sink.

Should I decide upon a nature write,
I must select just one of many greens,
To paint a woodland oil, in verse tonight,
Of lush green branches shading flowered scenes.

Humorous poems are best presented yellow,
The verses to be sunny, smiling bright,
This Irish poet not e'er a dour fellow,
To try extract a laugh from you, he might.

To pen dark verse, one must use darkest black,
Printed on a page of sombre grey,
The mood is set, no chance of stepping back,
The reader with sad tears, may have to pay.

Poems to my Love, are always delicate pink,
Verse from the heart, her eye to see words beat,
Fond lines penned madly now in perfumed ink,
Extracted from rose petals, for a treat.

Erotic verse scribed in pulsating red,
Throbbing, bulging blood to end in balm,
My pen grows hotter with every word that's said,
Eventually burns to flames within my palm.

Finally if you poets e'er grace my home,
Feel free to take a seat, and ease your pains,
Relax at my bureau and pen a poem,
For it's ink not blood that flows inside our veins !

Such a warrior of verse
Penning words of romance
All so sweet and beautiful
Raising up our hearts
Taking us with you
As you weave your stories
Carrying us up high
Unleashing strong emotions
Sir, True poet are you