Last Commented Friendship Poems (1,087)

You were the flame to my wick, you were the wax to my stick, you were the sun to my heart, you were the glue, when I fell apart. You were the only one I ever loved, now that your gone, your all I think of. I still remember your face when you said good-bye, they took you away like a thief in the night, on your 16th birthday you had died, my only true friend in my life. I would have sacrificed everything! including my life. I remember being at your side, and I remember all the tears that I cried. Our love was a fairy tale, where dreams came true, and it would all end well. I remember all the poems that we wrote, just you and I, singing our song, and writing our own lullaby, I remember your final words to me, that dark night, playing our favorite game called, (what are we tonight), and I said "I am the eagle watching the setting sun," and you replied, "if you're the eagle, I am the sun that floats across the sky, I am the one who put that gleam in your eyes." This poem goes out to my angel in the sky. 1967-1983

We had a good poet and a beautiful person Ms Pink
She was from West Virginia , does somebody know about her ? She isn't posting since a long time
I do pray she is doing well

“We have eaten all the oysters,”
the Carpenter proclaimed.
The Walrus looked around to see
no single one remained.
“They were so plump and tasty, though,
we hardly can be blamed.”

The Walrus and the Carpenter
walked off along the sand,
then all at once they noticed they
were walking hand in hand.
Although, as to the reason why,
they did not understand.

And then the Walrus turned to speak,
but knew not what to say.
Perhaps a word or two about
the strangeness of their day.
“I’m worried,” said the Carpenter,
“I think we might be gay.”

“That’s not so bad,” the Walrus said,
“in fact, it might be fun.”
“Let’s stop right here upon the sand
And make love in the sun.
But when he turned to face his friend,
The Carpenter had gone.

DID 2019 end on a sad or happy note
All depends on your own life's luck

Did she play happy with your year?
Or played you down,
Or a mixture of both

Have you made promises to yourself?
for the new year ahead?
Or leaving it to destiny
or is it something you dread?

Life is like many doors,
or pages in a book,
all to be opened one by one
for the adventures to explore.

Lucky we are not hungry
Or live in a war torn country.

Lucky here at cs too.
To be able to speak our thoughts
All in poetry

I wish you all good luck
in this new year
and lots of hugs
from your own
EXRED xxxxxx

Wood sheds its dress of crimson red,
Frost coats with silver withered fields,
Day shows its face as if against its will
And hides itself behind a hillside edge.
You, fire ablaze, in my secluded cell,
And you, oh wine, a friend of autumn cold,
Pour into soul sweet poison of all days
For brief oblivion of bitter thoughts.

I am so sad, no friend sits by my side,
With whom I’ll wash long parting down,
Whose hand I’ll shake with hearty laugh,
Whom I could wish so many years to last.
I drink alone; in vain imagination mine
Calls out for friends to come for brief respite;
No sound of their approach, familiar strides,
No longer is my soul in wait for dearest one.

Bright and light the air, chatter all around
Yet peace envelopes, a contented sound
Carried on the breeze, bar-b-que smells
A Saturday lunchtime, as hunger tells

Sunshine fighting, against the hint of rain
In the distance, the rumble of a train
Yet surrounded by friends with nature
In the distance, those intending to cater

Simple the scene, without pressure to be
Other than oneself, genuine friendship key
As spring heralds the start, of what's to come
Eager we wait, for the bright summer sun.

Carried far upon the wind
Joyous voices, laughter ring
Sporting action, without doubt
Obvious goal, excitement mounts

Family watching, supporting young
Sharing the moment, involving fun
Wrapped up warm, spectators stand
Huddled in groups, forming a band

Some linked to neighbours and wait
Regular meet, family and friendly break
Catch-up chats, when game is slow
As faces smile and cheeks that glow

At end of game, when ready to leave
Excited youngsters, some believe
They made a difference for the team
And all who played, shared a dream

Oh how tempting, an assortment you see
Sweet- attractive, choices for me
That's how it can be, on a dating site
Many to contact, no harm if you write

Numbers can multiply, confusion sets in
A cookie jar selection, isn't classed a sin
Yet some addicted, can't stop-say no
So communication numbers, tend to grow

Messages sent, become empty and brief
No one wants to hear, from time wasting thief
How often you've waited, a message returned
At first worried, and a little concerned

These tiny warnings, with many more
Referred to as beautiful, grates to the core
Sweetie and sweetheart, included too
For a cookie jar selection, as well as you

At first you accept, and also the banter
They believe they send gifts, just like Santa
Sincerity is important, friendship too
Over time, awareness becomes clues

So its important to be truthful, before
You find yourself blocked, a closed door
Consider why you're here, to yourself be true
Enjoying communication, as you're meant too

Posle budne noci, kao posle bitke u kojoj su svi poraženi,
svestan da ce ih još biti, palim cigaretu kraj otvorenog prozora.

Svi smo mi od istog štofa samo su nam dezeni razliciti.
Pronalazimo se po teksturi i finim valerima.
Kad oni nestanu, zbog navike, zbog taštine,
kad pustimo da izblede jer ih nismo negovali,
napuštaju nas, napuštamo,
drage osobe sa kojima smo sretni bili
baš zbog tekstura i svetlosti koju smo delili.
Polako, neprimetno, ostajemo sami.
Samoca je za jedne odabir, a drugima sudbina.
Nije bitno imaš li nekogoga pored sebe, ili nemaš.
Ja je nisam odabrao…

Kroz otvoren prozor nadire hladan vazduh,
pritiska dim zapeljene cigarete u grudima,
u srcu, komadici leda, tope se u ocima.
Dvorište okruženo zidovima, kao zatvorski krug,
prljavo bela garaža - nedostaje joj cigla na zabatu,
biljke što traže negu , a nekim cudom rastu same.
Imao sam san…

Sada gledam u teške oblake jave,
što ne znaju šta ce iz njih pasti,
Hladna decembarska kiša Ili nežne bele pahulje.

Život je kao i ova cigareta,
jednom zapaljenoj ostaje joj da gori,
da pruži užitak, da zadovolji potrebu, da stvori zavisnost
i da nekom ne bude po volji što baš tu gori.

Na pruženi dlan pale su prve pahulje
i slile se otopljene u linije dlana kao da proricu sudbinu,
drugaciju od one koju je nudila neprospavana noc.

Naci cu ja svoj san tamo gde ga je izgubila ova neprospavana noc,
tamo gde ga je sakrilo ovo prohladno jutro.
Još je u meni udahnutog života…

After a wakeful night, like after a battle in which everyone is defeated,
Aware that there will be more, I light a cigarette by the open window.

We are all of the same stuff, but our designs are different.
We find ourselves by texture and fine valuers.
When they disappear, because of habit, because of vanity,
when we let them fade because we didn't nurture them,
they leave us, we leave,
dear people we were happy with
just because of the textures and light we shared.
Slowly, imperceptibly, we are left alone.
Loneliness is for one the choice and the other the destiny.
It doesn't matter if you have someone beside you or you don't.
I didn't choose her ...

Cold air comes in through an open window,
presses the smoke of a burned cigarette in my chest,
in the heart, pieces of ice melt in the eyes.
A courtyard surrounded by walls, like a prison circle,
dirty white garage - it lacks a brick on the gable,
plants that seek care and, by some miracle, grow on their own.
I had a dream…

Now I'm looking at the heavy clouds of reality,
not knowing what will fall out of them,
Cold December rain Or gentle white snowflakes.

Life is like this cigarette,
once burned it remains to burn,
to provide pleasure, to satisfy a need, to create dependence
and not to please someone at will, which is exactly what is burning.

The first flakes fell on the extended palm
and they merged into palm lines as if to predict destiny,
different from the one that sleepless night offered.

I will find my dream where it has been lost this sleepless night,
where he had hidden it this chilly morning.
There is still life breathed into me…