Treasure Island

Matthias Pantaleon

(August 24,1984 / Oronija Island, Nigeria)

Kingsley


The saddest part of life is to
Bury your friends before you’re
Old enough to know what it means
For someone to die

Kingsley was a friend,
Nay our friend;
He was a friend you would
Be proud to introduce to friends

A friend who keeps
His friends as friends,
And foes as future friends;
He was a friend of friends.

One day, he left without goodbye;
The Kingsley we knew
Will never leave his friends
Without a loud goodbye!

He was a delight,
A light too bright for dead to eclipse:
He makes us laugh;
Now he made us sad,
Then we cry and wail knowing
That we’ll never see him again!

Submitted: Wednesday, April 03, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Topic(s): love

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Kingsley by Matthias Pantaleon )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. La serpiente que divide el mundo, Train .., Virgil Suárez
  2. The Myth of the Fabulous Sinkhole Island, Virgil Suárez
  3. In The House of White Light, Virgil Suárez
  4. AND IT WAS WRITTEN, Stephen Karnaghan
  5. Legacy, Babatunde Aremu
  6. Prayer by the Fire, Mark R. Elias
  7. Race for flowers, Somanathan Iyer
  8. At the Pulpit, Mark R. Elias
  9. Pulling force, Somanathan Iyer
  10. Leo, Virgil Suárez

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]