Examples Of Narrative Poems - Page 3

  1. 41. The Old Fella Out At Buck Creek

    • By Gordon B. Melton
    • Published by Family Friend Poems April 2008 with permission of the Author.

    I am a 37-year-old volunteer firefighter, father of 4, and husband to a great wife. The gentleman I am writing about is an 89-year-old man who was in WWII and is still going strong. The poem came from my heart and is a great tribute to a very fine man. Dedicated to Clinton Woodley

    in Creative Poems

    There is an old fella out at Buck Creek
    He's a little hard of hearing, so be loud when you speak
    He's lived many years and has seen many things
    He's as good as an angel but without the wings
    Sit with him a while and many stories you will hear
    Stories of the war, the drought, and to him things that are dear
    His body looks feeble and a little weak
    But watch him work and you will think he is at his peak
    He goes to the pasture and gives his cattle some feed
    Then he gets on his tractor and plows and plants some seed
    When he is done, he looks around with a smile
    Then he thanks God for letting him be around a while
    He walks in his home, which he was born in
    With never a frown, but only a grin
    I visit with him as often as I can
    For he is a very interesting  man
    When I talk to him, knowledge is what I seek
    Because that's one heck of a fella out at Buck Creek

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 97
    • Favorited 5
    • Votes 200
    • Rating 4.25
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  2. 42. Her Wedding Day

    • By Jennafer Nolan
    • Published by Family Friend Poems May 2015 with permission of the Author.

    I wrote this poem when I was a junior in high school...it just mainly tells of a wedding. I'm still waiting for this day!

    in Wedding Poems

    Gloriously she walks down the aisle,
    And already she can see his gorgeous smile.
    That smile that is so soft and sweet,
    That smile that makes her knees go weak.

    Halfway down the aisle now,
    And she begins to wonder how.
    How did she ever fall for the likes of him?
    She feels as if she cannot swim.
    Struggling to keep afloat in this sea of desire,
    About to marry the man who sets her heart afire.

    She's at the altar now, ready to be given away,
    Always she's waited for this day.
    Beside her King she now stands,
    As they hold one another's hands.
    Repeating the words she has waited forever to hear,
    Suddenly she begins to fill with fear.
    But looking into her man's eyes so bright
    She knows everything will be all right.

    As he lifts her veil and kisses her lips,
    She feels electricity pulsating to her fingertips.
    And as the preacher introduces her with her new name,
    She knows nothing will ever be the same.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 1258
    • Favorited 9
    • Votes 282
    • Rating 4.23
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  3. Advertisement

  4. 43. A Precious Christmas Memory

    I worte this poem about a tradition that my Dad and I had of putting up the Christmas lights together.

    in Christmas Poems

    In the damp, dusty cellar, surrounded by boxes,
    Our excitement just grows without measure.
    Searching and sorting with loud shouts of glee,
    As we uncovered the grand Christmas treasure.

    Christmas lights in a ball, but Dad's not deterred,
    As with a purpose, he heads out the door.
    And I spy from the window, for the time has now come,
    For Dad to adorn our front porch.

    The weather is frigid, his breath floats in the air,
    And the sky is the deepest of gray.
    The spirit of Christmas can be felt everywhere,
    With the promise of snow on the way.

    So I watch as my Dad makes his plan of attack,
    While I sit comfy, cozy inside.
    But I knew in my heart where I needed to be,
    Out there shivering, but right by his side.

    So I bundle up tight and I head out the door,
    Nothing can stand in my way.
    And I knew by his smile and his pat on my back
    That he truly was glad that I came.

    Now perfectionist Dad always knew what to do,
    And for him every light had its place.
    So together we stood, completing our task,
    Precious memories these moments would make.

    Under an ominous sky large snowflakes appeared,
    And it seemed that the time had just flown.
    But we both were determined to finish the job,
    Though tired and chilled to the bone.

    As the last light was placed, complete darkness prevailed,
    We had accomplished our goal just in time.
    The smell of Mom's cooking floated by in the air,
    And the feeling of success was sublime.

    Now into the house, I run with such joy,
    To summon all family to come.
    And we stand on the street, as Dad plugs in the lights,
    Illuminating our world one by one.

    For certain it's Christmas and my heart feels so full,
    With the beauty of color and shimmer.
    But being with Dad sharing time in the cold
    Is forever what I will remember!

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 155
    • Favorited 1
    • Votes 31
    • Rating 4.16
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  5. 44. "The Fire" In Haiku

    • By Andrew Mancinelli
    • Published by Family Friend Poems February 2013 with permission of the Author.

    At age four, my house burned down at about 4 in the morning. I was inspired by a quote I found online to write about this. I absolutely love the style of Haiku, so I wrote one.... This poem is completely representative of my experience at such a young age, hence some lower-class vocab, such as "bed-head" and "annoying and loud" while most of the poem is written in a sophisticated manner, representing the age gap of then and now, both while attempting to create a visualization of the setting.

    in Haiku

    I was in fire,
    The room was dark and somber.
    I sleep peacefully.

    That alarm then rang,
    The sound annoying and loud,
    But it saved my life.

    I had woken up
    Scared, confused, and sad alike.
    I knew what happened.

    My shelter burning;
    My bastion fiercely falling,
    I, at just age four.

    I'll never forget
    The face of mother possessed;
    The look of pure fear.

    Her light pajamas.
    Her dark and rustled "bed-head."
    She soon yanked me up.

    Along with my rest,
    My sister, brother, and dad
    Ran out of the blaze.

    My pets, left behind,
    Found the inevitable.
    They live now above.

    Out we stand, post-haste;
    The cold and wet post-storm land.
    We stand, soles chilling.

    Approach the neighbor,
    Seemingly calm and relaxed
    Amid inferno.

    Asked our well-being.
    We had no reply to give.
    She left with a sulk.

    All possessions lost,
    We drove far away, love lost
    To live for years more.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 2
    • Shares 2507
    • Favorited 6
    • Votes 370
    • Rating 4.15
    Featured Shared Story

    It is a good poem. I like it a lot. It is also narrated well.

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (2)

  6. Advertisement

  7. 45. Song About Old Troll

    Famous Poem

    J. R. R. Tolkien is famous for his fantasy novels The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. This poem was sung by Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings. Audio clips can be found of J. R. R. Tolkien singing this song himself.

    in Famous Narrative Poems

    Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
    And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
    For many a year he had gnawed it near,
    For meat was hard to come by.
    Done by! Gum by!
    In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
    And meat was hard to come by.

    Up came Tom with his big boots on.
    Said he to Troll: "Pray, what is yon?
    For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
    As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
    Caveyard! Paveyard!
    This many a year has Tim been gone,
    And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard."

    "My lad," said Troll, "this bone I stole.
    But what be bones that lie in a hole?
    Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
    Afore I found his shinbone.
    Tinbone! Thinbone!
    He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
    For he don't need his shinbone."

    Said Tom: "I don't see why the likes o' thee
    Without axin' leave should go makin' free
    With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
    So hand the old bone over!
    Rover! Trover!
    Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
    So hand the old bone over!"

    "For a couple o' pins," says Troll, and grins,
    "I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
    A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
    I'll try my teeth on thee now.*
    Hee now! See now!
    I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
    I've a mind to dine on thee now."

    *[as read by Tolkien on the tape:]
    Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle.
    Sunkle! Drunkle!
    I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins;
    Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle."

    But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
    He found his hands had hold of naught.
    Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
    And gave him the boot to larn him.
    Warn him! Darn him!
    A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
    Would be the way to larn him.

    But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
    Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
    As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
    For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
    Peel it! Heal it!
    Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
    And he knew his toes could feel it.

    Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
    And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
    But Troll don't care, and he's still there
    With the bone he boned from it's owner.
    Doner! Boner!
    Troll's old seat is still the same,
    And the bone he boned from its owner!

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 1
    • Shares 1555
    • Favorited 10
    • Votes 254
    • Rating 4.15
    • Poem of the Day
    Featured Shared Story

    This poem reminds me of times reading this with my dad. Thank you for publishing this poem!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (1)

  8. 46. The Neighbour's Dog

    Based on a true event. A neighbours barking dog led Bazza to howl and bark in the middle of the road with unexpected consequences.

    in Humorous Poems

    Our street was once a peaceful place
    Kids played and you could jog
    But our tranquil life was shattered
    When the neighbour got a dog.

    The thing would howl all through the day
    And even after dark
    And just as you tried to go to sleep...
    The mongrel thing would bark.

    It soiled all the lawns, but his
    It chased the Postie's bike
    And anyone who whined at all
    Was told to "Take a hike!"

    Old Bazza asked the owner straight
    To silence the ugly brute
    But the neighbour said
    "My dog don't bark!"
    "And I think he's rather cute."

    The neighbourhood was up in arms
    So of his own volition
    Old Bazza went from door to door
    And took up a petition.

    The Council gravely listened
    Then notified the Pound
    Who gave the bloke a warning
    But didn't take the hound.

    One night Bazza came home late
    (He'd had a lot to drink)
    And when the thing began to howl
    It pushed him to the brink.

    He parked the car down near the curb
    Then with bonnet lifted wide
    He blasted on the air horns
    Until the battery died.

    Not satisfied his point was made
    Into the street he strode
    Then barked and howled for all to hear
    In the middle of the road.

    "Woof Woof, Bloody Woof Woof!"
    He yelled it out with force
    Until all the neighbours were awake
    And he was nearly hoarse.

    But his goings-on were tempered
    By a team of Police in black
    Who suddenly appeared en masse
    And cut short his attack.

    They tackled him and put him down
    His shorts and shirt were torn
    His face was in the wood chip
    And his hair wore bits of lawn.

    Now Bazza is a legend
    And he takes great pains to tell
    How the mutt next door could howl and bark
    And give the neighbours hell

    He could foul the grass and bite the kids
    And never get molested
    But when Bazza tried to do the same
    He promptly got arrested.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 1
    • Shares 1036
    • Favorited 10
    • Votes 140
    • Rating 4.12
    Featured Shared Story

    I enjoy writing poetry about real events and real people. The "Bazza" who's featured in many of my poems is a quirky character whose fondness for the practical joke often gets him into...

    Read complete story

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (1)

  9. 47. The Owl And The Pussy-Cat

    Famous Poem

    The Owl and the Pussycat was first published in 1871 in the book "Nonsense Songs, Stories, Botany and Alphabets", by Edward Lear (1812-1888). Lear played many musical instruments and often performed his poetry with music at social gatherings.

    in Famous Children Poems

    The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
       In a beautiful pea-green boat,
    They took some honey, and plenty of money,
       Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
    The Owl looked up to the stars above,
       And sang to a small guitar,
    "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
        What a beautiful Pussy you are,
             You are,
             You are!
    What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

    Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
       How charmingly sweet you sing!
    O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
       But what shall we do for a ring?"
    They sailed away, for a year and a day,
       To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
    And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
       With a ring at the end of his nose,
                 His nose,
                 His nose,
       With a ring at the end of his nose.

    "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
       Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
    So they took it away, and were married next day
       By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
    They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
       Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
    And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
       They danced by the light of the moon,
                 The moon,
                 The moon,
    They danced by the light of the moon.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 2339
    • Favorited 7
    • Votes 167
    • Rating 4.07
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  10. 48. The Crazy Flu

    • By Debra L. Brown
    • Published by Family Friend Poems March 2019 with permission of the Author.

    With the flu season upon us, having the flu can be miserable. If we can see some humor in it, it could be good for the soul.

    in Humorous Poems

    There once was a girl named Sue.
    She came down with the case of the flu.
    She let out a sigh,
    "My temperature is high,
    what ever shall I do?
    Oh my! Oh my!
    I think I will die.
    What ever shall I do?"

    So, she stumbled out of bed.
    "I know I'll take some meds.
    If this the flu,
    I take an aspirin or two.
    Then I'll drink some broth and some juice.
    Oh my! Oh my!"
    she began to cry.
    "I think this is acute."

    So, she grumbled back to bed
    and pulled the covers over her head.
    She let out a sneeze,
    a cough and a wheeze.
    "Won't someone help me, please?
    Oh my! Oh my!
    Will I survive
    the case of the crazy flu?"

    So, she finally fell asleep.
    She slept and slept for a week.
    She tossed and turned,
    her symptoms have passed.
    Her temperature normal at last.
    "Oh my! Oh my!
    I think I survived
    this case of the crazy flu."

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 1509
    • Favorited 11
    • Votes 170
    • Rating 3.89
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  11. 49. My Father's Hug

    I was raised in a musical family. I've played guitar since 1961. My Mom had learned piano when she was young and played organ at her church. Dad sang, played saxophone and harmonica. He even performed with his band on radio back in the 40's. My relationship with my Dad was not always a happy one, but I tried to remember some of the good times I had with him. There were a few, mostly with music involved, but this is one of my most memorable. I hope you can relate to what it meant to me.

    in Father Poems

    My Father, he was never one
    To show his deepest feelings.
    He never cared too much for hugs,
    Either giving or receiving.

    I guess that's just the way he was,
    To hang on to his manhood.
    Emotions should be never shown,
    I think, he thought no man should.

    There was a summer at our lake
    Where we would spend vacations.
    Our family went there every year
    To this beautiful location.

    One day my Dad and I set out
    To get some food supplies.
    We could only go by boat,
    But there were cloudy skies.

    Half way there, some thunder rolled
    And soon it started raining.
    No matter what our speed was at,
    The storm was quickly gaining.

    My cousin's cottage was in sight,
    We made a beeline there.
    Until the storm had gone away,
    That cottage we would share.

    The door not locked, no one was home,
    So this would be our refuge.
    It saved us from the pouring rain
    And all that storming deluge.

    We sat inside, but not a word
    Was said between us two.
    We listened to the rain come down,
    While the thunder and lightning grew.

    Then, deep in thought, my Dad stood up
    And started looking 'round.
    He saw a box and opened it,
    A harmonica he'd found.

    He sat back down, slapped it hard,
    Then started into play.
    There's only one piece he would do,
    It's still in my heart this day.

    "Maria Elena" was the song
    And I just quietly listened.
    I'd never heard him play like this,
    The notes that came just glistened.

    And as he played, his eyes were closed,
    His head would weave in rhythm.
    He played the song with all his heart
    And all the passion in him.

    I felt Dad reaching out to me
    To show me his emotions.
    I began to feel a bit choked up
    From this musical devotion.

    The storm had all but disappeared,
    Though it was still there raging.
    The only thing that I could hear,
    Was Dad and I engaging.

    When he stopped, he looked at me
    And saw my eyes were welling.
    I couldn't help but feel the love,
    Through music, he was telling.

    He smiled a bit then bowed his head.
    There was nothing more to say.
    The storm was gone, we bailed the boat
    And continued on our way.

    I'd never seen my Dad like that,
    Before or even after.
    We did have some good times, of course,
    With smiles and often, laughter.

    But something happened on that day
    That's in my heart forever.
    Somehow we bonded through that storm,
    His "hug" will leave me never.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 157
    • Favorited 7
    • Votes 25
    • Rating 4.40
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  12. 50. Hanging In Tough

    This is about a friend of mine from church. She became ill with cancer. She was taking chemo and radiation, and through her sickness she was such a brave person. She always trusted in God to get her through the rough times.

    in Spiritual Poems about Death

    A fine lady.
    So gallantly strong,
    She stands for the good,
    The righteous, and God.

    At a small little church she faithfully arrives.
    She walks quietly about as she silently sighs.
    She greets with a hug with outstretched hands.
    "How are you doing today? Glad to see you," she says.

    I gently embrace her and ask, "How are you doing?
    You look pretty today."
    With a sad glow in her eyes, she says,
    "It's been kinda rough,
    But our God's on my side,
    And I'm hanging in tough."

    With a soft smile on her face, she sits in a pew,
    Among family and friends and others she knew.
    She graciously prays with her head slightly bowed,
    Singing God's hymns with a soft whispering sound.

    As she rises to leave, I squeeze her arm and say,
    "You look so beautiful and much better today."
    She speaks with a quick grin as she touches my cheek
    And replies with a voice that's suddenly weak.
    "It's a little rough, but you know me,
    I'm hanging in tough."

    She faithfully arrives at the little church
    One last time.
    She was carried by loved ones
    And friends by her side,
    A bouquet was placed on the pew
    Where she once sat,
    With flowers and ribbons and banner that read:

    God's taking me home.
    His ride won't be rough,
    For my days are all over for me.
    Hanging in tough.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 0
    • Shares 158
    • Favorited 4
    • Votes 59
    • Rating 4.19
    Featured Shared Story

    No Stories yet, You can be the first!

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (0)

  13. 51. Heirloom Of Love

    • By Angie
    • Published by Family Friend Poems May 2008 with permission of the Author.

    The mixed emotions of a father on his daughter's wedding day.

    in Wedding Poems

    There she sits before her mirror,
    Primping in excitement, her face flushed.
    Today is her day; she will never know
    How much I hurt, how scared I am
    Of the void she will leave behind.

    Will she forget me? I'll be replaced
    By someone new, someone who makes her heart
    Dance in her chest, a drumbeat.
    Will he, can he protect her as I've done?
    I have no choice but to trust...

    I seethe with an almost-rage,
    An unfounded, illogical jealousy, an anger
    For what he is taking from me.
    I am selfish. She is my joy, my life
    I would die for her.

    Today I will. A thousand times.

    Then she turns to look at me.
    In her beautiful face I see worry.
    For me? She sees the unspilled tears
    She knows. Of course, she knows.
    She comes to me.

    And with the smallest kiss, the subtle smile
    All is well. She is still mine.
    She will always be mine
    In a different and wonderful way.
    She is a part of me.

    She will move on, she will give others joy,
    And I am comforted knowing her goodness
    Will be shared by everyone she touches,
    And I am okay and proud, and I take her hand
    To give her to her love, her new life.

    I swell with almost unbearable pride
    To have created something so perfect!
    She was never mine to keep, this supreme being
    Perfect to me. Shining, golden, priceless...
    My heirloom of love.

    And there he goes, that handsome, kind man
    With his new bride, my daughter, my soul.
    Does he know what has been passed to him?
    He could not know, not yet,
    But time will show him; he will realize.

    Someday it will be his turn.
    He will have to pass her essence on,
    In his daughter, my granddaughter,
    Our heirloom of love.
    Will he weep? With loss, with anger?

    Will he sit alone in his daughter's room
    Filled with love and happiness...sadness?
    No, content. A deep breath will help him stand
    As I do now, and I walk with trembling lips
    And chin held high. I leave this room.

    I close the door.

    Go To Complete Poem

    • Stories 3
    • Shares 427
    • Favorited 3
    • Votes 145
    • Rating 4.17
    Featured Shared Story

    This is exactly what I went through the day of my daughter's wedding. Tears and a sort of rage that her new husband was taking her away from me. I questioned whether he could protect her as I...

    Read complete story

    Touched by the poem? Share your story! (3)



41 - 51 of 51

Back to Top