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Poems On / About FRIEND  8/2/2015 1:19:42 PM
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Friend Ship

Friend ship is a great thing to have
When you're in trouble
Call on a friend
When you have friend ship
You always have a friend
Friend ship is wonderful
Friend ship is amazing
Friend ship is being a pal
Right back at your friend
Kathryn Thompson

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True Friends

True friends are like diamonds, special but rare
False friends are like autumn leaves found everywhere
True friends are always there to help you out
False Friends will put you in trouble without a doubt
True friend are real they will tell you how it is
False friends are gone as fast as you money is
All around me I have true friends,
No false ones to keep me down
Tell me do you have true friends
Page Davis

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Good Friends And Best Friends

Friends are there for many different reasons.
Friends come in many different types of ways.
Friends are always there through all the seasons.
Friends are always there through different times of the days.
Sometimes you will always have good friends.
Sometimes that may be very cool and nice.
But you will always have your true best friend.
That will always be there to give advice.
Good friends give you answers and sometimes let you copy.
Best friends will always show you how.
Good friends have the talent to keep you happy.
Best friends will take time to teach you now.
Both are there to share your life.
And share your burden in times of strife.
stephanie suarez

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Past Failures……….! ! !

When things happen the way we do not want them to, especially when we have alternative ways for a better result, a few of us tend to go against the present time with our own ideology. A few stand up for the lame and speak for speechless victims. A few revolt to declare the right of way in their own understanding the fairness and just of all species. A few of those people who change the world with their own sacrifices to prove that love deserves all and all deserve love, are subject to my title.

I saw a victim in the blinking of one eye. I thought her physical body was bandaged with chocolate brown cloths that looked like ropes. I saw her sitting in a usual manner, only this time I noticed it over the cracked toes. Her face proposed a succumbed gesture, tolerant to the thieves', Priests' and the Levites’ imprudence. Her dry-stricken eyes reflected back into mine as I looked into hers, I could see inside her detriment brains. I looked briefly without having one more word to describe ‘death calling’. In blinking the second eye, I felt for the poor girl, my old best-friend, who was thoroughly stricken by dearth and loss.
She was sitting, guarding on her other pairs of cloths. Condensing and precipitating in the call of anxious rains. She was once the smart, intangible prefect, but today she struggled in the emptiness of her own respect and fullness of regrets. She was the one I loved, the one who reminded me of positive things in life. She was once my mentor, my motivator, my aspirin, my cushion if ever I fell once or twice, thrice or many times.

My forlorn heart went out to her in my resentment as I flipped over the covers of my memento. The relic invited me to the trespass of my failure, when my friend fell in the den of ravenous bacteria. She was integrated with hypocrites and before I knew it, she was no longer my friend. My failure comes in when I did not look out for her; when I could not sicken the effect with my own beta dine. I failed to win back my friend after she was dragged into prostitution, before she fell pregnant, before she was disowned from her home, before she was unified with the streets and miscarried, and after I tried to neutralize her virus of shame with my antivirus of love. I was afraid of shame turning on me had I failed to win her back, but now I regretted the failure of my own confidence. My best friend no longer belonged to me, she belonged to the streets. No longer mine!

Had I known better out of fear, my beloved would not have sat on the hot edges of extreme poverty. Had I been free of pessimistic conscience, my friendship would have lasted. But that I know better, I can still do something about it. I will stand up for her, regardless of the least decency she may portray. I will still win her from the streets, even with the least respect there is to compromise. If my best-friend does not deserve the streets, so do the rest of my people whom I cry for not deserve it. If it meant calamity to declare, I can still see the beauty beyond the grotesque line. I need my friend and my people alive and pleasant; they need back their dignity poverty envied and copped from them. I might still fear, maybe a little, but the courage in me will win over fear. I will move into the dark territory and grab my best friend home. My people will not live in rages nor sleep in twilight of danger anymore. I will make up for my mistakes and care not to make another. My people shall live again.
Monica Rupazo

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Poems On / About FRIEND