Are you looking for loyalty poems and steadfast stories? Look no more. These are the best you will find!
“As an artist your first loyalty is to your art. Unless this is the case, you’re going to be a second-rate artist.”
Forsaken Loyalty, a poem
by Wonda Pharr
You never understood my loyalty;
Instead, you took it to be modesty;
I’ve always asked why you cheated,
But all the answers just leave me defeated.
Back then I was always a ball of anxiety,
But no matter what, I always gave you my priority;
How could I know that you were so conceited,
When all along you made me feel so completed.
You didn’t have a clue about my loyalty,
You must have thought it was just poetry,
And so you let me get so utterly mistreated,
When here I thought that I would never be unseated.
You gave me not a shred of honesty,
And so you lost ever bit of my loyalty.
Like sweat from me you’ve been secreted,
And now it’s time for you to be deleted.
Boundless Loyalty, a story
by Charlie Tann
When he died, she was present at the funeral, and she cried. And then it was time to go home. But she didn’t go home, she steadfastly stayed. It was loyalty, and it was love.
The others called to her. They even offered her things. They said, “you can’t stay here. This isn’t a place for anyone to be.” But she stayed anyway, her loyalty unshaken.
It was summer, and the night was warm. She slept next to the grave. The next morning a friend brought her something to eat, and she ate it up hungrily. “You can’t stay. I know your loyal, and I know you loved him, but now it’s time to go home.”
Her loyalty was unwavering. She stayed the week. At first friends would bring food, and things that she needed. But as time wore on, they came less and less. But the cemetery caretaker was a kind old man, and he respected her loyalty. If she wanted to sleep by the grave, he respected that. He started to bring her food, and he even cleaned up after her.
Of course, there were funerals to be held and more people to be buried. Everyone wondered, who was she, and why was she there—and the cemetery caretaker would tell them. “It’s loyalty,” he would say, “and love.”
Finally, she too grew old and died, even before the caretaker did. It had been arranged that she be buried next to her master. And on the tombstone, it was written, “Lays here a dog of boundless loyalty next to the master she served in life and in death.”
Defining Loyalty, a poem
by Amanda Lynn
Loyalty is the big thing
that aches the most.
Loyalty is telling someone
when they are wrong,
but then supporting their decision anyway.
Loyalty is believing in someone
even when no one else does.
Loyalty is taking someone’s hand
just before they leap off the cliff.
Loyalty stays the same,
whether someone wins, loses or draws.
Loyalty is opening the door for someone
and letting them inside—
time and time again, even when it hurts.
Loyalty is the courage
to stay by someone’s side,
even when everyone else has run.
Loyalty is losing everything,
except for that which you hold most dear.
Loyalty is believing,
it’s faith in another human
and there is nothing more risky
and there is nothing more worthwhile.
Oath of Loyalty, a story
by Ivan Edge
Loyalty was now a test. If you wanted to be a citizen it was as simple as that. Well, he wanted to be a citizen, so he took the test.
They asked him, “do you want your children and grandchildren to be citizens?”
He really didn’t know. What could that have to do with his loyalty? Shouldn’t he be loyal to his own children and let them choose? But it didn’t matter, he simply said, “yes, of course.”
Then they asked him, “and do you promise to live among all of us, and not associate with only people from your own ethnic group?”
Again, what did this have to do with loyalty? Shouldn’t he be loyal to his own people, his brothers and sisters? But he wanted to be a citizen, so he answered, “yes, of course.”
Then they asked him, “and will you swear your allegiance to our flag and to all that it represents?”
This he thought was the queerest of their questions. It was a vulgar kind of loyalty. How could anyone be loyal to a flag—a flag could represent whatever anyone said it represented. But he wanted his citizenship, so again, he said, “yes, of course.”
It occurred to him that he must possessed a queer kind of loyalty after all, because he’d steadfastly lied to each and everyone of their questions in order to get his citizenship. If that wasn’t loyalty, then what was?
Her Loyalty, a poem
by Dustin Down
She came to me yesterday,
as a vision, as a dream,
as something I couldn’t quite express
ever in words.
She told me things.
They were just whispers in the dark
about love, about faith,
about the nature of the universe.
There were even secrets about myself
that she’d learned about me,
even though I’d never told her.
She told me about loyalty.
Loyalty, she said,
is what makes the world go ’round.
And her loyalty for me, she said,
was entirely unbound.
She told me so many things
that I wanted to get angry.
I wanted to shout at her,
to make her go away,
because the pain had grown
so wide and so deep,
that I was sure
I could never let go of it.
But she took my hand,
and she smiled up at my face;
she lay her head on my chest,
and breathed out softly,
her breath, a fragrance..
I forgive you for everything,
she said, I told you, it’s loyalty.
A thousand voices collided around
inside my empty head.
I knew what I had done,
and I knew that it had been wrong—
and yet here she still was,
by my side, whispering to me,
and all at once, I understood,
just what it all meant—
her utter and devoted
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