Pretty Poetry For Everyday

Two women taking a selfie

31 Love And Friendship Poem Ideas For Besties

Inside: Love and friendship poem ideas to share with your besties.

Don’t we all love our friends? Whether you have many or a few, friendships make the world go round. The love you have for your friends is a special one, and one that we should never take for granted. Friendship love is so much sweeter than even romantic love because of the genuine love you get in return.

I am so lucky to say that I am surrounded by so many valuable and wonderful friends in this life, and using these poems to try to express my feelings toward them is such a sweet way to share the love.

If you love your friends, this one’s for you.

If your friends are like your chosen family, this one’s for you.

If you need some inspiration to share to tell your friends how much they mean to you, this one’s for you.

Three girls hugging on the beach

I so value telling people how much they mean to you and never letting a moment pass by. Life is short and moments are fleeting, so let a love and friendship poem do the talking for you.

As you go through life, you’re going to find how much you need friends around you. And feeling the love from all different types of relationships is so important as trials and life battles come your way.

Let them know how special they are to you with one of these poems. Poetry is the words of the soul, so as you communicate through poetry, you’re communicating how you truly feel about the people in your life.

Check these out!

Different Types Of Love

There are many different kinds of love and relationships that we will encounter in our lives. It’s easy to find it everywhere around us when we look for it, and when we encounter the really passionate types of love, it becomes a whole different game. It’s something we are lucky to find in our lifetimes.

While there are more passionate and romantic types of love, my favorite is friendship love. These are people you choose and choose to spend time with, even without the gratification of a significant other type of relationship. I feel like my friends are my world, and I want to show them through any love and friendship poem that I can find.

Philosophically, there are four types of loves.

Eros: passionate and erotic
Philia: love of friends and equals
Storge: love of parents for children
Agape: love of mankind

Each of these portray different ways that you can view the people around you in your life. Some are like equals and some are in more of a parental nurturing love.

Understanding the different ways you can love someone will help you understand the different ways that they can also be important to you. Even knowing that there’s a love of mankind that can be different from a friendship love is helpful when placing boundaries on someone that you know that you love but doesn’t need to be a friend.

Choose your friends, feel the love, and share a poem!

How To Use These Poems

Wondering why you might need some of these examples of a good love and friendship poem? Easy. You don’t. It’s true that you don’t need these, but they’re sweet little add ons to any gifts or notes or letters that you may send to your friends and buddies.

Reading a little poem about what you mean to someone is an unmatched feeling that you really can’t beat. If you want to tell the people in your life that you love them and want to emphasize how MUCH you love them, speak from the heart with these poems!

Use them as a gift tag on a gift, or a birthday card in the mail.

Maybe put them on place settings at a dinner party you’re hosting, or read it aloud for everyone to enjoy together.

Because there are very few things in this world that are better than friendship.

The Great Love And Friendship Poem

1. Hug O’War Lyrics

I will not play at tug o’ war.
I’d rather play at hug o’ war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.

By Shel Silverstein

2. Friendship After Love

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its own fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

3. Retreat To Head Our Honest Deeds

Two old oak trees weathered by winds and rain
with fallen leaves, branches and toughened bark
to shield a core of grandeur, and sustain
the wisdom borne to see the light from dark.
Two noble men aware of twilight time
both face evil world with courage and grace
Love and Nature gifts each, a life sublime
all standing with courage none can erase.
Each rooted within mother earth’s great fold
weathering this world’s darkest raging storms
images show lives lived regally and bold
tho’ existing in weakened earthen forms.
With words of wisdom written in our seeds
we seek retreat to heed our honest deeds.

By T.J Grén & Robert Lindley

4. I Acquiesce to Friendship

Your sensuous eyes render me a fool.
How clumsy I become within your mien.
I stutter, stumble trying to keep cool
While all the time envisioning a scene
Of you and I together palm in palm
As sun departs behind the hillside’s face,
And in the blush of twilight I feel calm
Enough to kiss your lips with lover’s grace.
My heart would swell if only this were so,
If even in my dreams it would come true,
That you might sense within my smile aglow
The awesome humble love I have for you.
One tiny glance of regard you impart
Would be enough to satisfy my heart.

By Connie Marcum Wong

A trail in the woods

5. Us Two

Wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
“Where are you going today?” says Pooh:
“Well, that’s very odd ‘cos I was too.
Let’s go together,” says Pooh, says he.
“Let’s go together,” says Pooh.

“What’s twice eleven?” I said to Pooh.
(“Twice what?” said Pooh to Me.)
“I think it ought to be twenty-two.”
“Just what I think myself,” said Pooh.
“It wasn’t an easy sum to do,
But that’s what it is,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what it is,” said Pooh.

“Let’s look for dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“Yes, let’s,” said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
“Yes, those are dragons all right,” said Pooh.
“As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That’s what they are,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what they are,” said Pooh.

“Let’s frighten the dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“That’s right,” said Pooh to Me.
“I’m not afraid,” I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted “Shoo!
Silly old dragons!”- and off they flew.

“I wasn’t afraid,” said Pooh, said he,
“I’m never afraid with you.”

So wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
“What would I do?” I said to Pooh,
“If it wasn’t for you,” and Pooh said: “True,
It isn’t much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. “That’s how it is,” says Pooh.

By A.A. Milne

6. To All My Friends

That I could be this human at this time
breathing, looking, seeing, smelling

That I could be this moment at this time
resting, calmly moving, feeling

That I could be this excellence at this time
sudden, changed, peaceful, & woke

To all my friends who have been with me in weakness
when water falls rush down my two sides

To all my friends who have felt me in anguish
when this earthen back breaks between the crack of two blades

To all my friends who have held me in rage
when fire tears through swallows behind tight grins

I know you
I see you
I hear you

Although the world is silent around you

I know you
I see you
I hear you

By Hauntie

7. We Eat Out Together

My heart is a fancy place
Where giant reddish-purple cauliflowers
& white ones in French & English are outside
Waiting to welcome you to a boat
Over the low black river for a big dinner
There’s alot of choice among the foods
Even a tortured lamb served in pieces
En croute on a plate so hot as a rack
Of clouds blown over the cold filthy river
We are entitled to see anytime while we
Use the tablecovers to love each other
Publicly dishing out imitative luxuries
To show off poetry’s extreme generosity
Then home in the heart of a big limousine

By Bernadette Mayer

Heartwarming Love And Friendship Poems

8. I Loved My Friend

I loved my friend
He went away from me
There’s nothing more to say
The poem ends,
Soft as it began-
I loved my friend.

By Langston Hughes

9. One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same,
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There’s a bond that we’ll share.

By Honestly J.T.

10. Will You Ever

I don’t think you will
Ever fully understand
How you’ve touched my life
And made me who I am.

I don’t think you could ever know
Just how truly special you are,
That even on the darkest nights
You are my brightest star.

You’ve allowed me to experience
Something very hard to find,
Unconditional love that exists
In my body, soul, and mind.

I don’t think you could ever feel
All the love I have to give,
And I’m sure you’ll never realize
You’ve been my will to live.

You are an amazing person,
And without you I don’t know where I’d be.
Having you in my life
Completes and fulfills every part of me.

By Kaitlyn M. Yawn

11. Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

By Maya Angelou

12. I Love You

I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am when I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what you have made of yourself,
But for what you are making of me.

I love you for
the part of me that you bring out;
I love you for
putting your hand into my heaped-up heart
And passing over all the foolish, weak things
that you can’t help dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out into the light
All the beautiful things
that no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good,
And more than any fate could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it by being yourself
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means, after all.

By Roy Croft

13. We Have Been Friends Together

We have been friends together,
In sunshine and in shade;
Since first beneath the chestnut-trees
In infancy we played.
But coldness dwells within thy heart,
A cloud is on thy brow;
We have been friends together—
Shall a light word part us now?

We have been gay together;
We have laugh’d at little jests;
For the fount of hope was gushing
Warm and joyous in our breasts.
But laughter now hath fled thy lip,
And sullen glooms thy brow;
We have been gay together—
Shall a light word part us now?

We have been sad together,
We have wept, with bitter tears,
O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d
The hopes of early years.
The voices which are silent there
Would bid thee clear thy brow;
We have been sad together—
Oh! what shall part us now?

By Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

14. Friendship

You said age’s only a number, beauty’s skin deep
Wise words to live by, now if I could only sleep
Humor never can be taken away, have no regrets
Live like there’s no tomorrow, an elephant never forgets

Since the day we met, things have been so right
Thankful for our meeting, making spirits bright
No more feeling lonely, no more feeling stressed
Friendships have started, I am feeling blessed

Not a day has passed without a smile on my face
Feeling happy has now become commonplace
Brought together by chance or was it by fate
Any way you put it, my friend, you are truly great

By Tim Smith

15. A Friend Poem

A person who will listen and not condemn
Someone on whom you can depend
They will not flee when bad times are here
Instead they will be there to lend an ear
They will think of ways to make you smile
So you can be happy for a while
When times are good and happy there after
They will be there to share the laughter
Do not forget your friends at all
For they pick you up when you fall
Do not expect to just take and hold
Give friendship back, it is pure gold.

By Gillian Jones

Cute Poems

Hands holding with the sky in the background

16. Friends For Life

We are friends.
I’ve got your back,
And you have mine.
I’ll help you out
Anytime!
To see you hurt,
To see you cry,
Makes me weep
And wanna die.
If you agree
To never fight,
It wouldn’t matter
Who’s wrong or right.
If a broken heart
Needs a mend,
I’ll be right there
Till the end.
If your cheeks are wet
From drops of tears,
Don’t worry,
Let go of your fears.
Hand in hand
Love is sent.
We’ll be friends
Till the end!

By Angelica N. Brissett

17. To me, fair friends, you can never be old

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey’d,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv’d;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv’d:
For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

By Shakespeare

18. On Friendship

And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.
And he answered, saying:
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery us not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

By Kahlil Gibran

19. Red Brocade – For cultural friendship love inspiration.

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

By Naomi Shihab Nye

20. Overnight

In Memory of Paul Violi (1944–2011)

I did not realize that you were fading from sight
I don’t believe I could have helped with the transition

You most likely would have made a joke of it
Did you hear about the two donkeys stuck in an airshaft

I don’t believe I could have helped with the transition
The doorway leading to the valleys of dust is always open

Did you hear about the two donkeys stuck in an airshaft
You might call this the first of many red herrings

The doorway leading to the valleys of dust is always open
The window overlooking the sea is part of the dream

You might call this the first of many red herrings
The shield you were given as a child did not protect you

The window overlooking the sea is part of the dream
One by one the words leave you, even this one

The shield you were given as a child did not protect you
The sword is made of air before you knew it

One by one the words leave you, even this one
I did not realize that you were fading from sight

The sword is made of air before you knew it
You most likely would have made a joke of it

By John Yau

21.The Friend

For Nate Pritts
The friend lives half in the grass
and half in the chocolate cake,
walks over to your house in the bashful light
of November, or the forceful light of summer.
You put your hand on her shoulder,
or you put your hand on his shoulder.
The friend is indefinite. You are both
so tired, no one ever notices the sleeping bags
inside you and under your eyes when you’re talking
together about the glue of this life, the sticky
saturation of bodies into darkness. The friend’s crisis
of faith about faith is unnerving in its power
to influence belief, not in or toward some other
higher power, but away from all power in the grass
or the lake with your hand on her shoulder, your hand
on his shoulder. You tell the friend the best things
you can imagine, and every single one of them has
already happened, so you recount them
of great necessity with nostalgic, atomic ferocity,
and one by one by one until many. The eggbirds whistle
the gargantuan trees. The noiserocks fall twisted
into each other’s dreams, their colorful paratrooping,
their skinny dark jeans, little black walnuts
to the surface of this earth. You and the friend
remain twisted together, thinking your simultaneous
and inarticulate thoughts in physical lawlessness,
in chemical awkwardness. It is too much
to be so many different things at once. The friend
brings black hole candy to your lips, and jumping
off the rooftops of your city, the experience.
So much confusion — the several layers of exhaustion,
and being a friend with your hands in your pockets,
and the friend’s hands in your pockets.
O bitter black walnuts of this parachuted earth!
O gongbirds and appleflocks! The friend
puts her hand on your shoulder. The friend
puts his hand on your shoulder. You find
a higher power when you look.

By Matt Hart

22. Silhouette

more and more of my friends
are becoming parents or partners
to plants

i have lived long and short enough
to remember the homegirls who
danced non-stop until three a.m.
the moon a parabola to our party
i’ve grown up enough
to see them sing their favorite slow songs
to herbs and succulents on their windowsills
in homes they sowed from dreams

the same sister who once dug a heel into
a man’s oblique now steals thyme with me
off of suburban bushes after brunch
in my neighborhood

when a friend locked herself out—
the same person who loses wallets &
laptop chargers & saves my broken earrings
with a hot-glue gun in her backpack—
this pinay macguyver
has me breaking into her house at night
where we be tiptoeing over her
forest of planted avocado jars
into her dark room to find warmth

the one whose living room and bedroom
once resembled a flea market
or a super fly thrift store
and sometimes ikea—
the one who let me stay
she pays full price for potters &
vases—pronounced with the short
& therefore expensive ‘a’ sound

one womxn named her garden
“grown and sexy”
bringing new meaning
to the phrase garden hoe.

another who tops burritos with
white sauce dots like queen anne’s lace
also commits the crime of eating
one half at a time, you know, meal planning
with a sweet tooth, she drinks all of her horchata
& knows how
my family loves orchids &
she brings me them for my birthday
or any other tuesday
just because.

my mentee once congratulated me with
mint & basil & lavender & rosemary—
sweet aromas gifted when i
was leaving a job that left me to rot
for another that was not an office
with no windows, no green

the women in my life reroot
over oceans & provinces & planes to cultivate
a geography of trunks & limbs
reminding me that to decompose
is the chance to live again

my mother’s rose bushes open wide this spring
in her backyard without her
my mother’s body is buried in a plot
of other bodies without mine
isn’t a cemetery a garden
of all we’ve loved?

and isn’t a garden full
of already dead things?
those who bury their beloved
put the gentlest parts
of themselves into soil
my mother is a seed
the first woman i cannot unplant
cannot pull or twist back into my hands
her orchids bloom reaching
how delicately the petals hang off
their stakes like gold, glass bangles on wrists
against disco lights against the ambiance of a food truck menu
like lip gloss how bougainvillea spill onto sidewalks
like how the sun stays lit
during an eclipse

the flowers in my garden grow lively
& loving & hungry from pods & cinderblocks
my friends are florists
they water & cry & bloom & sleep
from loss & clay & unfolded laundry
sometimes we grow tired & tough
sometimes you have to open a cactus to cut
pieces off so we don’t grow stuck

arranging the flowers
in my garden
is a lattice
a life lesson
on how
to grow
up.

By Janice Lobo Sapigao

Friendship Poetry

23. Love and Friendship

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He still may leave thy garland green.

By Emily Bronte

24. Red Brocade

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

By Naomi Shihab Nye

Light coming through the window

25. Care And Happiness

You came as a ray of light,
Made my life cheerful and bright,
Showering your affection over me
So that my face was full of glee.
Taking away my complete loneliness
And giving me back all the happiness
With a Midas touch of your care
To keep me away from despair.
I’ll never leave you midway,
And tales of our bond people will say.

By Shishir

26. A Love Letter To My Best Friend

If spring is the eager season, then you are the late bloomer of autumn
You are definitely orange…
Like an orange, or a sunset sometimes
But sometimes sunsets can be purple
Purple is regal.
And rare like orange, but I have heard way more people say that purple is their color, and lavender is their look, and violet is their name, and mauve is their polish, and velvet is their skin, but…
Orange is reserved for the Velma archetype and the Vermilion poke-fan and the Pumpkin Ghost and the rustic tangerine shirt of Merman
You are orange… like, sometimes
Orange… like, maybe?
Like, sometimes I see you by the curb, in construction and
the next day you are gone
Like a traffic cone,
You face the sky like a circus cannon
Sometimes you are so ready to get fired up
Sometimes you are so unwilling, you bolt your soles to the sidewalk
And I forget how planted you are,
posed in pavement
I see you like a pylon in between traffic lanes
No matter how steep your neck, it is always on the line for someone else’s safety
You are orange like Caution, like Slow

Sometimes you are orange like Garfield on a rainy day
Your thoughts are like uncharted Martian sands
They are beautiful in their existence, but still considered alien
Your ideas are a pumpkin patch
Where you can’t really tell which root sprouts which fruit
You just know they are grand and still growing
I have seen you wear orange, like a lion’s mane
like Pride Rock and Lion King
like the goldfish that stays up all night

You are orange like radioactive happiness
like bio-hazardous laughter

You are the beautiful disaster of Guy Fieri’s T-shirt
wearing Mario Batali’s Crocs

Doctors wanted to stabilize you
they told you orange is too abrasive
It is too creative
Orange is Attention Deficit
You’ve already heard them call you
Orange, like disorder
What’s another couple of words before it?

You are orange like a monarch butterfly
Your caterpillar is similar to any other inchworm or millipede
but no one ever sees the difference between a monarch and a moth
Mom said your tantrums could be mistaken for mood swings
Your sleep patterns are not insomnia, but school-related stress
You get extra time on tests, but they were never designed to assess your kind of intelligence.

Because you are orange like a clockwork
One that can be fucked up and brilliant at the same time
Maybe that’s why I think you’re brilliant

Bipolar Disorder is less like a coin, it’s less like two-face,
more like the middle of a traffic light at two a.m.
it is less stop-and-go, more like Slow,
like, sometimes… like, maybe?

I noticed your prescription bottles
And prescription glasses are both autumn orange.

I wonder if it’s difficult to discern
which one changes the way you see the world
and which one changes the way you see yourself.

By Andrew Warner

27. In the Company of Women – such a great love and friendship poem

Make me laugh over coffee,
make it a double, make it frothy
so it seethes in our delight.
Make my cup overflow
with your small happiness.
I want to hoot and snort and cackle and chuckle.
Let your laughter fill me like a bell.
Let me listen to your ringing and singing
as Billie Holiday croons above our heads.
Sorry, the blues are nowhere to be found.
Not tonight. Not here.
No makeup. No tears.
Only contours. Only curves.
Each sip takes back a pound,
each dry-roasted swirl takes our soul.
Can I have a refill, just one more?
Let the bitterness sink to the bottom of our lives.
Let us take this joy to go.

By January Gill O’Neil

Women laughing on a couch

28. I Want To Apologize

i want to apologize to all the women i have called beautiful
before i’ve called them intelligent or brave
i am sorry i made it sound as though
something as simple as what you’re born with
is all you have to be proud of
when you have broken mountains with your wit
from now on i will say things like
you are resilient, or you are extraordinary
not because i don’t think you’re beautiful
but because i need you to know
you are more than that”

By Rupi Kaur

29. Dog Music

Amongst dogs are listeners and singers.
My big dog sang with me so purely,
puckering her ruffled lips into an O,
beginning with small, swallowing sounds
like Coltrane musing, then rising to power
and resonance, gulping air to continue—
her passion and sense of flawless form—
singing not with me, but for the art of dogs.
We joined in many fine songs—”Stardust,”
“Naima,” “The Trout,” “My Rosary,” “Perdido.”
She was a great master and died young,
leaving me with unrelieved grief,
her talents known to only a few.

Now I have a small dog who does not sing,
but listens with discernment, requiring
skill and spirit in my falsetto voice.
I sing her name and words of love
andante, con brio, vivace, adagio.
Sometimes she is so moved she turns
to place a paw across her snout,
closes her eyes, sighing like a girl
I held and danced with years ago.

But I am a pretender to dog music.
The true strains rise only from
the rich, red chambers of a canine heart,
these melodies best when the moon is up,
listeners and singers together or
apart, beyond friendship and anger,
far from any human imposter—
ballads of long nights lifting
to starlight, songs of bones, turds,
conquests, hunts, smells, rankings,
things settled long before our birth.

By Paul Zimmer

30. The Walrus And The Carpenter

“The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun.”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,’
They said, it would be grand!’

If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
That they could get it clear?’
I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.’

But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’

But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
The night is fine,’ the Walrus said.
Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I’ve had to ask you twice!’

It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
The butter’s spread too thick!’

I weep for you,’ the Walrus said:
I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,
You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.”

By Lewis Carroll

31. My First Best Friend

My first best friend is Awful Ann—
she socked me in the eye.
My second best is Sneaky Sam—
he tried to swipe my pie.
My third best friend is Max the Rat—
he trampled on my toes.
My fourth best friend is Nasty Nell—
She almost broke my nose.

My fifth best friend is Ted the Toad—
he kicked me in the knee.
My sixth best friend is Grumpy Gail—
she’s always mean to me.
My seventh best is Monster Moe—
he often plays too rough.
That’s all the friends I’ve got right now—
I think I’ve got enough.

By Jack Prelutsky

The hardest part about friendships is that it’s natural for them to come and go. But as you hold your people with an open hand, value and love them while they’re in your life for this season. Let them know how much they mean to you with these love and friendship poem ideas while you’re doing life together, and making memories that will last a lifetime!

If this is what you hold dear, these love and friendship poems will express that to your people.

If you’re hosting a dinner party or have some friends with birthdays coming up, using these as place markers at dinner or a tag on a gift are great and easy ways to slip them a good poem. Send them as greeting cards or shoot over a text out of the blue for a sweet surprise that shows your friends how you love them.

Here are some goodnight poems for your friends to end the night with.

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