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Sad Nostalgia Poems | Sad Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Details | Free verse | |

You Caught The Wind

I remember you, from when there was a spring When the seasons were ripe, with verdant green Our nimble feet danced in the wind and on the brink of everything Not a furrow in the brow of youth We borrowed life for just awhile We tapped our shoes, on a promised stage Where carefree laughter was the rage that filled our age with endless miles We danced and twirled a twin ballet just you and me on summer's waves Two pirouettes, in mode of curls of blossoms, frilled, and tender leaves unfurled in winds, we found a way to soar our wings, above the world We knew not yet of death or dying or of regret, or cause for crying But, something frowned upon the season You caught the wind, and without reason A colder wind that kept you flying far beyond my eyes could see And to the other side you disappeared beyond my words beyond my tears Now here alone I touch the day and taste the night remembering I will walk alone, in autumn sun And lay myself on dying leaves I think of you and think of then I feel the wind against my face that sweeps me to a distant place where I recall what time erased I'm closer now... to hear the sound The whisper of the seasons calling Above the trees, the sky is blue I think of you, and feel the breeze And all the while, the leaves must fall
.......................................................................................................


Details | Shape | |

Spring Bud

                                
                                 
                                  
                                 
                                
                                 My 
                               breath
                          shivers under  
                       a rug of loneliness,
                    a sleepy heart huddles
                   against such memories 
                 of togetherness and not of 
               goodbyes, hating to disperse 
               the fiery rhymes of your lips, 
                as well as the warmth of its 
                 sweat...tastes like red wine, 
                   then it beats...and beats
                     gently, as it envisions
                          you, in an early
                                misty
                                   s
                                  p
                                r
                               i
                              n
                            g






Details | Ballad | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Details | Romanticism | |

A Rose In The Heather.

So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,

So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,

Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,

Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of 
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing, 
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,     
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.


Details | Senryu | |

carved on a willow

carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach


Details | I do not know? | |

Anger Pain and Dramatic Stress

Anger, pain and dramatic stress 
The 3 things that I possess
Me, Reggie is okay at times
I sometimes choose to confide in my rhymes
I express my feelings through a pen
Just like some women get satisfaction through men.
This isn’t a poem because this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast, just too fast to be caught.
I hate being stressed
Just like I hate being possessed
I don’t mean to sound evil and mean
But I am different from the other people you have seen.
This is not a poem…this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast that they can’t be caught.
I have it good to some…others have it good to me
Some don’t realize how hard it is to be
A poet…it’s hard writin’ poetry with a lot of feeling
You feel forced to write something appealing
You break down cause cus’ you feel an obligation
To write good poetry that there breaks your concentration
I found a solution that my mind’s fighting
Maybe I should stop all the poetry and all the writing
These are fast ideas too fast to be caught
This isn’t a poem this is just a thought


Details | Imagism | |

Between Shades

“Alive,” she said,
 “and becoming such a beautifully-
painted picture.”

Where-in you walk wispy
(She said)
through the moon’s light
shinning on the branches
of leafless trees.

Then tomorrow shakes his tired head,
halfway into Autumn’s-
dead middle;
and you stand shaded and colored
(She said)
by the fiery skies.

While down among your feet
the wilted flowers 
wake like a carnival 
and encircle you
(She said)
with forgotten happiness.

And on you trod shyly
into forests of yes and no.
Where all happiness is lost,
and the flowers forget-
to grow.

“Alive,” she said.


Details | Verse | |

Periphery

On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.

Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.

Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.

No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.


Details | Free verse | |

How I Danced!

The night is cold, awaiting the early light of dawn
My body shivers, my feet like ice, I long for sleep but it does not come 
Like so many lonely hours in the darkness
The ache of my bones so cruel and relentless

Tears on my pillow, I once again slip from the warm covers
Leaving the placid breath beside me, never knowing I’ve gone
I would give so much to have the peace of slumber
The chance to dream of an earlier life, one that is gone now

Where I danced with the clouds on a warm spring day
Ran in the woods chasing butterflies or a humming bird 
The gentle breeze brushing against my skin
My soul free to be who I am, without the pain of this withering shell

Some nights I long for an end to this misery
Life has dealt such a difficult challenge
But more often, I sit in the dim light of the morning
Remembering my youth and the freedom that it gave

How I laughed in its face, knowing I would always be young
That I would always be ready to take on the world unencumbered
How naïve…and how unappreciative of the wonders of my youthful body
Pushing the limits of this fragile home to my soul, never fearing an end to my 
flight

But the dawn comes, and I bravely go on to face another day
Determined to make it the best possible
Although this life, even with it’s wicked edge, so unexpected
Arrived before I was ready to give up my wonderful dance of freedom

I rub my twisted joints, warming them near the fire
Knowing that, even through the pain there is hope
For my mind is sharp, my wit is clever 
And I may yet find joys in the brightness and warmth of this new sun

For I can still hear the birds sing their happy tunes
Watch the grandchildren’s innocent play, their melodic giggles of joy
And remember how it was not so long ago…
And how I danced! 


Details | I do not know? | |

Condemnation

One will never understand
the strength of desire and passion
that the slightest touch of his hand
would force me into submission.

Walking in the darkness
hiding behind closed doors
living with the sadness
that this love could last no more.

I yearned to scream out loud
that I loved him with all my heart
but forbidden loves stay underground
I guess we knew that right from the start.

In our own world we would live
together, forever more
me, I had my life to give
but could we beat this mental war.

The day had come to say goodbye
but for me it came too soon
as deep inside I wanted to die
my heart was out of tune.

So here I sit and long for the past
waiting to feel free
but still my life is overcast
so I live within the memory.


Details | Haiku | |

buried secrets

where the seagull dies
stringless origami cries
loneliness of soul

koi fish suffocate
colors fade in Bonsai trees
island in distress

words not understood
shadows grin tricks on rice walls
tsunamis in eyes

geisha of the world
love is lost in illusions
freedom is her dream

men with cold fingers
whither blossom of her spring
harakiri end

in the seagull's grave
origami secrets kept
chicks learn how to fly
 
www.scripca.com


Details | Narrative | |

Alone in a Hospital Room - An Alzheimer's Song

Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Honey? 
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…



*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)


Details | Rhyme | |

The Park -- Part Two

(Please read The Park -- Part One first ...
This is a continuation from Part One, due to space limitations)

Yes, kids at play are bold and wise
with flashing smiles and knowing eyes.
Children bore easily with grown up prattle;
their thoughts turn to cake and to toys that rattle.
They know that Belles and Bills tell lies.
Time is but a birthday gift or new surprise;
more games to play; a windy day for a kite one flies;
coins that shine; toys that squeak;
a trip to the zoo at the end of each week.
But Belles and Bills persist in their story.
Some even mention forgotten glory.
Children go home to eat, to sleep.
Belles and Bills their vigils keep;
falling leaves and darkening sky
shows them their truth and the children's lie.
Nothing is forever; all things die.
Then, Belles and Bills go back to flats,
to wait -- to wait till morning comes.
They listen to the rustling rats
and slowly sip their gins or rums.
Eyes are glazed; minds are dazed.
The atmosphere grows dim and hazed.
They will await, once more, the sun's first ray --
the birth, in the park, of another day.
Before they leave, they look all around,
surveying the world to which they're bound;
then, they shuffle away, with airs of sadness
at being, always, on the verge of madness.
The echo of an unheard bark
reverberates throughout the park.
Fallen leaves and darkened sky
confirm the truth.  Children lie.


Details | Sonnet | |

Requiem

Released and slowly drifting to the earth,
the leaf departs her tree in mournful grace;
though both will live to see another birth,
none same will be returning in her place.
We meet as always in the space between
the branch's bud and parting leaf stem's end;
a tearful eye, a tugging force unseen
does will the laws reverse, gravity bend.
Enhanced though was the nearly naked tree
by springtime's bloom, her fallen trembling love - 
released to serve another destiny - 
in turn, will be the better than above.

Leaf falls to rest, and in her fading sigh,
she breathes to tree her final sad goodbye.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Glutton

This's the world of dreams  and 
reveries
Where I think ev'ry that reels,
After a thousands times,
would as same beliefs things 
besought me,
Is it a mere dream? 


Details | Narrative | |

Chinese Scrolls

Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.


Details | Ballad | |

Silent House

The house stands mute, broken by years...
Windows stare through jagged glass.
Empty as the eyes of death.
Silent void...echoing joy..patient tears,
reach out in memory each time I pass
the gaping door which has no breath.
 
A rusted lamp-post leans toward Earth...
listening for approaching sound,
to light the darkness once more.
Quiet hush...resounding mirth,
touch my step upon the ground,
and beckon me in, to the shattered house.
 
Crushed boards once held dancing feet...
laughter clings to crumbled stones,
and tears strain the silent rooms.
Scattered remnants of life replete,
lie still as whitened desert bones,
and words spoken...here entombed.
 
I gaze upon torn and tattered walls...
Time pauses, and whispers soft to me
of life blossomed rich in moments gone.
Of a woman whose memory recalls
the beauty of love...and eternity...
mirrored in a rose upon the lawn.
 
House so sad, your youth abounds,
neath fallen grace, and buried sounds.
I hear your song in distant night,
and stand before your silent sight.
 


Details | Free verse | |

Emotional Turbulence

The voices grow louder, Intensifying with emotion, anger lining every aggressive word. My insides squeeze tighter as the vitriol poisons my mind, How does such hostility exist? As the sound of hatred deepens, The feelings strengthen their grip, like a vice, So tight, I can no longer breathe All the negative emotions I have ever felt, fill me, Threatening to overflow. So long have they been banished… Enough. No more! My mouth opens, An earsplitting scream of pain and suffering shatters the silence, Sobs of sorrow and grief wrack my body, Murderous shrieks of anger and hate, Wretched cries of self-pity and self-loathing, Poison the air. Now, free of these emotions. But the monster still exists Within the dark depths of my mind.


Details | Free verse | |

Eyes

Her delicate silhouette still lingers in my eyes, 
closer than these arms can embrace; haunting me. 
I breathe her in within the lull of a zephyr, 
lilac and roses filling the air; forever staining my memory.
Life found her defenseless, silenced by a veil of darkness; 
faith clutched tight within her hand,
as esoteric dreams are shattered beneath the rages of a soulless hand.
Frail she emerged, soul hidden, draped in shades of gray.

Sweet serenity severed tragically; incarcerated reality. 
Her taunting whispers bleed my heart,
no peace for the buried thoughts inside;
for innocence was laid to rest before dying, 
earthbound, intimately weaving in and out through me.
No more saline tears to sate these eyes,
just an expressionless specter in human disguise.
She wore candy apple red the day she left; bright eyes that smiled.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE RAIN by Anna Lo P

"As I watch the blue skies
 Suddenly turned into gray
 Darkness easily surrounds 
 Their clouds, covered in haze.

 The rain will fall again, I say
 A nature's moment I dismay
 Raindrops will soon touch the ground
 The sad feeling, again I'll be hound.

 Splattering rain, the sound that haunts
 Sweet and sad memories of the man
 Taunting me to remember once again
 The love once lost, never be back again

 Every drop of rain that falls, I pain
 Each drop it falls, my heart is in vain
 "Try to listen" to the rain, he once said
 'Tis like a last goodbye, could not hear I said. 

 The sound of the crying heart, I still hear
 The sound of a weeping soul, I can hear
 The silent tears that they weep,
 The silent scream that echos so deep.

 Listen to every drop of rain
 To it's agony, vain, pain, 
 Listen to the rain as it falls, maybe
 There is your love, every drop after all...xoxo


Details | Limerick | |

The Broken Vase Of Love

Is never a crime so earn me awhole. 
For all whom thoughts were crack in noon,
And still do not think is right left being dumb.
Would in pre-nuptial undertaken sauntered, when lifted'd had  imagined what the world is of its own. If it's a wistful pan of several host or A spiteful mine of volcanic tusks?


Details | Free verse | |

Train, Alone

I wail lonely
in your distances
as endless trestles travel I

Know

I was here I was
present
on your horizons,
present in your town

Come, ride with me
Come, keep me 
from obsolescence, keep me
alive

Without you
Within me
I am meaningless,
blind

For how can I see, and, yes,
Who can I show,

If  not you... if not you... if not you 


Details | Free verse | |

Shattered

Looking out a rainy window,
Seeing places that seem strange,
Makes you think of old and new, 
Shattered dreams, a glimpse of change,
All away and all distorted,
In the once so hopeful heart,
All beneath what you have planned,
If a plan is what you've got.
Many try to comprehend,
Why trouble just comes their way;
Sadly they find in the end
That they couldn't have a say
And they're wrong for thinking so
But when sadness flies to you,
There isn't much you can do... 

Is there?

Maybe lie to you and others,
That we are a happy kind,
Just that sometimes we are clouded
By the way our lives entwine.


Details | Free verse | |

In the Weeping Willow's path

I will never return,
Not even when the willows grow.
Not even when a distant bird
Sings my soul’s departure.
I’ll be alongside the river,
Tracing the few years of my love.
I gave my soul to this ancient stream,
Where the willows plot in silence.
They want to take my core
And carry it over
The fields, the skies, 
Across my mind.
And I shall let my darling tree
Snatch my heart and take it far,
For no one else to 
Grab it all over again.

I’ll endure the Willow’s magic
And contain my spirit
Within her bark, within her leaves,
Releasing my poison into the water.
She’ll guide my spirit
Into the Summerland,
Where I’ll rest by the
White Willow’s side.
Then I’ll be the child of nature,
Daughter of the Weeping ones,
Resting my branches 
By the river, on a rainy evening.

And I shall weep
Every time you will,
And wipe your tears 
With my leafy fingers.
I’ll be your undying guardian
And your oldest friend,
Enchanting you in the land of dreams.
I’ll be the willow on your bedside. 


© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila


Details | Bio | |

I Close My Eyes

I close my eyes
And back home I am
Looking out those
Century old windows
My inner tears
Would burst a dam

I remember every crack 
In those walls,
Every floor board
Prone to creak
But the happiness
I had there,
Is something I can
now but seek...

Home of fifty years
Saw my tears and my joy
From infancy to adulthood
And the blessed life I'd had there
Since I was but a boy

A place where several
Family members had died
In the old fashioned way
And all those tears I cried...

Not in some remote hospital,
But where they wanted to be
And I'd suely love to die there,
If it was up to me..

But, it was my destiny
To come here, 
In this desolate place
Certainly I'm not that happy
But it's something I must face

I made a mistake,
I should have died there
Where I had lived so happily
And now, I barely care,
What becomes of me
My life is over
Save but a bit of love,
Still directed at me
And each day I wonder,
What do these people see in me?


Details | Rhyme | |

AFRICA

Plagued with an unimaginable measure of beauty
She sits somewhere between the Indian and the Atlantic
Her history boasts of nothing but debauched slavery
Having served leaders who were very autocratic
 
She boasts of a vast expanse of unexploited vegetation
An even greater magnitude of untapped mineral resources
Yet her people reside in abject deprivation
As they look beyond their motherland to external sources
 
Famine, drought and diseases are her nemesis
Her leaders never seem to be sensitive to her plight
Amassing wealth for themselves and families
Ignoring the very reason for their current might
 
Oh Africa my motherland
Bursting with glory and heavenly blessings
May the good Lord stretch forth His hand
To bless thee with leaders worthy of your consecrations


Details | Free verse | |

Why do I bother ?

                             Why do I bother waking up
                            when everydays the same 
                              life has no purpose
                             while we are estranged
                              
                            Why do I bother going to sleep 
                            when all I have is nightmares
                                 
                             Why do I bother breathing 
                        when  I just end up gasping for air
                       
                              Why do I bother eating
                               when all I want is you
                              
                               Why do I bother bathing
                             When everything feels so dirty
                                   
                         Why do I bother talking
                       when I just feel like screaming

                              Why do I bother living 
                             When i feel like im dying
                              

                                By,Jessica Bowie
                        


Details | I do not know? | |

Living today

Where are the secrets, the faith and the passion?
Money and business are now in the fashion.

There is no romance, there is no love,
there are no bird songs in the skies above.
There is no green grass, and forests and flowers,
only shriveling deserts and pale fading colors.

Cables and wires are strangling us tight,
smog hides the stars, you can't see them at night.
There is much science, but not many wisdom,
too much revolutions, but not enough freedom.

Wise man, and prophets and heroes are vanishing,
everything good is perished and banishing.
Dragons, elfs, fairies are facing extinction
even kids don't want to read that old fiction.

Undiscovered lands are no longer remaining
from adventures and brave feats everyone is abstaining.
There is no justice and no human rights,
no satisfaction, only body delights.

Compassion and virtue are not common today
should be greedy and shameless if you want to stay.
There is no hope and no joy, you can find only sadness
in these poor human souls, lost in the madness.

God stays in darkness, forgotten and blind,
He's no longer able to control human mind.
There isn't much left you now could believe,
only in dreams you can find some relief.


Details | Free verse | |

fake smiles and lies

I have tried,
For months I have tried,
to let  go of your haunting memory.
I can’t.
Behind every fake smile I give,
I blindly hope I give an aura,
of being happy.
I am not.
I fall asleep at night,
only to find you haunting my dreams.
The life I wanted to have,
the love I needed,
it’s all slipping so far away.
I heard about you and her.
I was engulfed with sadness.
I was supposed to be me,
not her.
There is no one to blame,
no one to accept this burden.
I bury  it deep inside,
hidden  behind,
fake smiles,
and  lies.


Details | I do not know? | |

Guignol

The musty lights corrupt the stage
Twisting the form of the heavy curtains
Framed by the stolen shadows of cherubs
A delicate music box whispers into the guilded room
A faint perfume of smoldering limes bitter the air
This night could be Prague, Vienna...
Then I conquer the stage, arise and fulfill the lights
Only to again to have my dignity murdered infront of me
Adressing a hollow room
The only half-sound, glowering laughter in my mind
The meadow of poppy-red seats stare through the dark
The lights sharpen from their soft glow
And regroup as piercing arrows
Stripping me down
Back to my soul
I questioned why the others left 
	(and they question why I stay)
Neither are sure if it's through choice, or truth
Living in this dead theatre