Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Nostalgia Ode Poems | Ode Poems About Nostalgia

These Nostalgia Ode poems are examples of Ode poems about Nostalgia. These are the best examples of Nostalgia Ode poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Ode |

' The Face Of Love '

Will I Recognize… The Face Of Love?
Or the Wonderful, Bedazzled Appearance of:
A Moon-kist Meadow, Hushed and Dark
A Solitary Silhouette, this Beauty Mark,
Windswept Grasses, like a Babe’s Soft Lashes
Rippling across Earth, that’s smooth as a Cheek.
In the Hushed and Flowery Scented Air…
Your Face of Love Materializes, Silvery, Full
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.

From the Face of Love … Will I Withdraw?
The Face of Love without Any Flaw;
As a Canopy of Clouds with the Splendor of Sunbeams
Piercing past the fluffy powder of Heaven, to Radiate Gleams
A Classical Cameo-Sculpture, Perfect Profile Structure
Yea… in the Bright Beacons, I see Your Smile
In the Illumed, Clear Sky, ‘Your Face’
Can Love’s Face be Touched … Attainable?
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.

The Face of Love … I Have Visualized,
Potent, Breathtaking, The Vision Rised;
From a Sunlit Lake, Winking as Would Diamonds.
Your Face of Love, Emerging from Far Beyond
The Depths of the Lake, as My Heart Quaked,
because of the Wavering Portrait’s Peace
because of Water-Color Caresses.
That Face of Love, was so Tangible.
The Face of Love … so Unforgettable

The Face of Love … has Gazed Upon
Dreams of Mine, the World’s Not Known
… Out of the Woodland’s Emerald Mist
With Drops of Dew, Love’s Face Kissed
The Framing Boughs; My Relaxed Brow.
Floating… Breathing out the Mist of Morn Light
That I may Sketch Your Face of Love, in Life.
The Face … More Handsome, than Sons of the Womb, is Possible…
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable

(For A Medieval-Tongued Poet, I Found Here at The Soup...
          Ismael Nieves, this one's for you Kiddo

                                 Mistress MoonBee

Details | Ode |

Because They Play the Game

Dedicated to every young man bestowed the honor of wearing 
the glorious Oklahoma Sooners' Crimson & Cream 


Over sixty years, boy and man, I have been a Sooners fan;
And always hoped to be among the truest in the stands.
And while I don’t remember all the Players’ names,
They’re my Heroes, each and every one, because they play the game.
When they’re on the field of battle, my Sooners surely give their all;
And when they’re on the sidelines, just waiting for a Coach’s call;
Visions of Glory must be dancing in their heads;
The Glory of the moment and our cheers, the Glory of playing for
   the mighty Big Red.

And for those Sooners who rarely played, whose names were 
   known only by a few,
Make no mistake my friend, each of them is my Hero too.
Like Soldiers waiting in the ranks, but never called to fight,
They ‘re ready and they’re willing, their spirit and their sacrifice
   add to Big Red’s might.

I stand in awe of Sooner Magic.  No, I never doubt it.
My Sooners could have never won so many Championships without it.
But don’t misunderstand when I say Sooner Magic won those games;
It was Sooners players who, once again, rose to the occasion and
   glorified the name.

Sixty years of college football and my Sooners have won the most.
Their fierce pride and performance inspire this simple toast:
“My Sooners Team goes on and on, different faces, different names;
But my Heroes, Each and Every one, for win or lose…
                                 They play the game.

Details | Ode |

Ode To Harmony and Serenity

From an inception lofty,
 high and above,
We were sent all,
 not a single one excepted, 

We were never on earth, 
we knew then how to love,
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
When to sow?

Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where to sow?

Down is the show, 
the law, 
the structure 
and road.

Down is the coward, 
the knave, 
the brigand, 
and the bad.

Down to earth, 
all of them 
and no less;

The way is descending, 
Where then to go?
We want ours to be ascending, 
ascending as a lark's.

Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?
Our eyes are searching for you, 
filled with tears;

Our hearts are devoid of warmth, 
fraught with layers.
where are they? 
making prayers;

But when winter comes, 
when winter comes, 
no fears.
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?
Harmony and serenity, 
we are reaping the harvest;
Is it ripe? 
Is it fine? 
This harvest?

From now on, 
nothing would ever be the same.
From now on, 
everything is truthful. 
Not a body of lies.
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?

"And if the past is passed, 
why moralize upon it?"
No one returned, 
no one ascended. 
Where is Jesus?
The Giants are gone. 
But justice, 
has it been done?
No need to weep. 
No need to sigh deep. 
Bright is the sun?
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?

From now on, 
nothing would ever be the same. 
Nowhere are you to be found 
Harmony and serenity.
Unless you are not within, 
you are then pity?
Being your slave, 
no other way but to pray and rise.

Chokri Omri

Details | Ode |

The River Emerald

No matter how much I try 
I always look back 
At least once a day or may be less or may be more
Oh that allure 
The river Emerald 
The intense green
Reminds me of something I have seen
No more I ask myself why
Obsessed with the infatuation
Pain in motion 
I picture your face 
I lean to kiss 
The thin air 
Melancholic grim
The river I once have seen
Emerald Green

Details | Ode |

Ode to a friend

Socially retarded and somewhat aloof I never knew what a true friendship was.
Not knowing how to play well with others growing into a young man.
I was 18 years old, washing dishes in that Chinese Restaurant, House of Lypan.
A dude came along, pretty tall and good looking as the girls gave chase.
Giggling and fluttering their eyes, I always wished to be as cool as you, just a taste. 
Then one day, on a visit to see the girls; you stopped in my presence and said, 
“I want to hang with you! What time do you get off work?”
I was baffled, befuddled and a little standoffish,
 for no one ever talked to me, unless to get dishes.
As I remember those many Friday nights, 
beers and tacos, everything was going to be all right.
 Lyrics of Rush and Journey, you knew every word, singing along in your V.W. bug 
like a bird. 
By summer’s end of that infamous summer, a genuine friend I had found; 
but alas, it was over what a bummer. 
I moved away, but came back that fall, our friendship flourished once more.
But as most friendships do, our ways dearly departed. Many years would pass until 
we’d cross each other’s lives again.
This chance quite by fortune, as you knocked on my door one New Year’s Eve’ it 
was ’95 I believe.
That night was a big one; deciding to end this journey called life, too much pain for 
this young man to carry; 
Two kinds of ‘candy’ to help ease the transition
 from mortal to death; a bottle of Jack, for some extra kick.
 I had a loaded 45 gun to help do the deed.
Then came your knock, was about 2 minutes to ‘celebration time’ for they 
say ‘midnight is the bewitching hour.”
I thought to myself, ‘who could this be?’ for I had no more friends, no career or 
family. And yet as if an Angel, you were knocking on my door! I hid what I had, 
ashamed and not wanting a friend to know how much pain I was in. I opened the 
door to those familiar words, ““I want to hang with you! What time you get off 
work?” I remember thinking, "how long has been since I grinned?"
If just for one moment, when you stand before God, all your sins are erased, and a 
moment of cause 
as God says with a Joyous loud voice…”Wait a minute Rick, what’s this? Well I’ll be, 
you’re better than most I can clearly see. I was just perusing over your life, you 
didn’t mention this… but you saved a life!” 
“Ah shucks it was nothin’, just a friend being a friend...I’m sure he’d of done the 
same, if the tables were turned.” And that is why I will and have always called you 

Details | Ode |

Ode to an acre of land and the building that stands there

Tall and pure oasis 
So much has changed
You remain constant and lovely 
Gentle, morning green grass
Breaks like waves, laps at the shores
Of white, gray, and yellow stones
Towering above me, silent and sure 
Chiseled marble, granite spires, oak
Wrought iron, your scent is old 
A familiar volume I keep close to me
The reflections in your pools
Still glass, not a leaf disturbs 
Irises cling to your walls 
The distance beyond you sways 
Spreading lazily into shade trees 
Sun-tinted pastures and weathered fences 
I walk with reverence, still, after so long
Your ground is my sanctuary
It houses my past 
I am a child forever in front of you

Details | Ode |

Waking up is Dangerous Business

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Killing time, wash the dishes. 
Open the bottle, swallow silence, 
Brainwash the kids, quell defiance. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Break them down, impose the dogmatic
Walk away, consider it emphatic. 
Instill false virtues, pass the world into the hands of the meek. 
Destroy opposition, leave the whole world weak. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Contemplative kids end up in ditches
Passive aggressive logical corruption
Chop the garbage fine, for easy consumption

Or maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s just me..

Details | Ode |

Ode To the Five and Ten


It was old fashioned shopping,....floors were warm planks of wood Where footsteps sounded hallow, and the walls were lined with goods A “5 and 10” cent heaven, … was the friendly Woolworth's Store One would always be surprised, what revolved behind that door How quickly flew the hours of a summer afternoon, to fritter through the clutter, that lay in waiting there Time would disappear upon a dime, with a sweeping of the eyes like the feather dusting of the racks on the shelves of all the years One could hear the clink of metal that nourished the till Where children holding a mother’s hand, could be rewarded for keeping still Little hands, restrained, would tire, leaning over a heart’s desire While a mother would conspire with the clerk of the day For there a child would stand in mute dismay, An indecisive millionaire, a fight of tooth and nail despair With fifty ways they might disburse two whole nickels in a purse A bit of this and a bit that, a stack of crayons, a pair of socks, Some satin ribbons, a new array of small barrettes, to dress the locks Cases of candy, a licorice whip, eyes embracing one after another… Laces or vases, sissors or needles, color climbing color The stacked up bolts of ginghams, worsteds, chintz and serges Trays of trinkets, and souveniers, ‘Evening in Paris’, the bottle was gorgeous All of these things, under a dollar, even a collar for all the pooches To know how it was to sit on a stool, after school Order a sandwich, and sip sodas, always cool and sublime This was how Woolworth’s….a store of the past Would build a memory to last and last….., Forever in time, for just a nickel or a dime... much more could one ask? ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` In Honor of Nancy Jones' Contest: "A Toothful Ode"

Details | Ode |

Remembering Belle

She was a devoted ole gal always at her best
so many days I cried hanging off her chest     
down to the lake in the hot summertime
we would cool her off and swing on a vine

Every morning at five am here came Belle, now my friend
and again at six pm there Belle was ready to work again
years passed and Belle became a part of our family
we worked, we played, and we milked twice a day

Half my life she was one of my dear friends
I greeted her in summer with warm sun burnt skin
and in winter I spent my time warming them
when Belle died I can't say things were ever the same again

Belle had become more than a cow in a pen, who gave us milk
she became a babysitter, a circus act, part of the swim team, for the neighborhood
but most of all Belle had become a lonely teen's dear friend

Details | Ode |

An Ode To Youth

I remember when I was young and fair
Slim long legs and soft black hair
My winsome smile and dark green eyes
Caused many a suitor to agonize
When turned away…rejected….forlorn
Wishing he had never been born!
I was always the Queen at any ball
Captivating one and all!

But youth is fleeting…beauty a sham
Just a façade…not who I am
The years fly by…beauty fades
Gone are suitors and accolades
Long in the tooth now…wrinkles persist
This is the world in which I exist
Winter is here…my Springs have flown
I sit here lonely and on my own

In life’s twilight before the sun has set
My thoughts turn to youth and the little coquette
I used to be when youth was King
Anticipating what each day would bring
Dark hair flowing… dancing the night away
Thinking life would always be that way
Oh bird of youth…I miss your song
But in the hush at evensong
I sense that I can hear it still
And in my heart…I always will!

Copyright2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)