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ABC Nostalgia Poems | ABC Poems About Nostalgia

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

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New Year

Years past unfold
Seems just yesterdays 
Tomorrow will be New Year
Streams of thoughts never change.


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A Shady Tree

I know its the summer time because of how naturally 
Your beauty compliments the caress of a summer breeze
As I watch the world from beneath a shady tree
I take in the delightful comfort of everything I see
But in the same breath I am holding up my hands
Lord will you please give me back the things I no longer have
They are even more a part of me now that they are gone 
As the sun falls below where the horizon is still holding on
Somewhere between the falling light and a star lit night
Is a dream that last forever and will never say goodbye
As the wind gently blows through the brush and shakes the leaves
It begins to hum a melody that I want to sing
At that very moment I smile for all the joy I have
Its so uplifting for me to see melancholy dance
Soon the morning sun will rise and capture my eyes
As I watch the hand of God paint a brand new sky
With every stroke of color I swallow all my pride
And I find a new place to dream of endless times
If I should ever get to the place I left my broken heart
Only then will I believe this brand new day will start
Again Im reminded of why my heart beats so restlessly
Only the speed of thought and my soul beneath this tree


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Treasure Trove

After working day long, was relaxing mind and soul With a beautiful song.

 gazing around,my eyes caught the  glimpse Of a bright colored book.

It was my diary ,a vault of wonderful memories Of good and bad.

 Sweet music  was being played in the heart,when i saw  one unfinished poem looking 

Sadly at me,saying ,give me a beautiful ending.
      
A poem,which is treasure trove  of unsaid feelings ,but still hold so strong in the heart.

 The poem got its beautiful end,and feelings still linger in the heart,even when the 
person goes away from us.

Its not that feelings are dead and Heart had dried up,they blossom like a flower

every time whenever they Cross our minds and make us relish  those wonderful moments.

Tears rolled down my cheeks Of content and happiness.



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The Best of Times

We have lived 
In the best of times
Where music was clean
And poetry rhymes.

Where a girl could walk
The streets all alone
Without the safety
Of a 911 phone.

Where decency led
And civility was the rule
No one suffered
The acts of the fool.

When it was okay
To let out a howl
At the precision proficiency
Of Frank Sinatra and Eleanor Powell.

Sad that such things
Now bring on a yawn.
Such times of enjoyment
So innocent and gone.

by E. Marshall Evans


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NOSTALGIA

I wish the days would come back,
I wish the moment would come back,
I wish the past would clash with the future,
I wish it didn't seem like a dream,
I wish history could repeat itself……..
The future seems so depressing, so uncertain…….
Sometime I wake up wishing it was all just a nightmare…….
Wishing you were still here…..
I don’t like how the future looks,
Although I don’t know what the future will hold….
But somehow,
I know that things will be the same.
And I know for a fact that I will never be the same.
I wish I could rewind time & replay every moment spend with you.
This feeling of nostalgia is sometimes too much to bear, 
because I miss you so much……
sometimes I see you right here beside me,
teasing & mocking me like you always do,
sharing the dark secrets you hold within,
laughing at jokes which were not funny……..
and then I wake up realizing it wasn't real.


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NOSTALGIA

NOSTALGIA

When the yellow sun reflects rosy hue on the east,
It will find me awake and waiting,
For I must go home this time!
All I require is an eighty-passenger engine to roar me through,
And when I feel engulfed in the ever whirling dust,
I will know I have arrived!

When I hear the howling wind,
The shouting of cunning jackals in the veldt,
Women’s lullaby that shatters the silence of the field,
The chanting of the cuckoo birds in the field,
The sight of sheep as they descend steep slopes,
I will know I have arrived.

When I hear the cracking of a whip in October,
The bellowing of bulls as they hoof out dust,
The roaring of tractors, the boom of thunder,
The barking of dogs, the snow that powders me white,
And the sight of an eagle that takes a flight,
I will know I have arrived.

The sight of our yellow bricks house,
The lowly mowed green, green grass of home,
The big, big strawberry tree I used to play under,
The smell of the slowly home brewed beer
In the over brimming tall glasses,
Tell me that I have arrived.

Across the river bridge, down—down the dusty road,
Under the twilight, water mirrors a shaky sky,
All has changed since I left home long time ago,
There runs my sweet Mary and children,
And to meet me is my pappa and mamma,
Slowly moving in walking canes,
And I am glad to be home again!


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THE WILDWEED

I was many in the field But had to know what's beyond the hill. Didn't know the cost was my roots.


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ME(by kimmy holmes, my daughter)

yOU KnoW YOU're PRETTY
YoUR SAFE fROM ME
yOU WATCH THE nEWS
iT KEEPS yOU fREE

yOUR'E sO MUCH     better
THAN i COULD hOPE TO BE
i MAKES ME quiet
Not so mucH ME

I think i MIIGHT BE MAD
you tell me I might be sad
scREW Y oU MY LoVE
I am ready
 
TO BE GLAd


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The punishment of the Paradise

I saw my dream fly away like a bird that escaped my body.

It is dificult to touch something that can fly like a bird because dreams are born to 
live free in the mind, as the birds to the skies.

You can see the dreams, but from the moment that you try to touch them they 
disappear...just as the water disappears in the desert if you go close.

Don't try to taste the apple of paradise.
See it but don't touch it.

Because the dreams keep all the secrets and the magic of our lost paradise.


Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


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RAMABIFI HILLS

RAMABIFI HILLS

I hear distant drums sounding loud,
I hear trumpets echoing tonight,
Oh, I can hear their warm and quiet conversations,
I guess they are on the way to Ramabifi Hills!

It is a clear and loud call we cannot deny,
And when skimming silently in the starry skies tonight,
We will see that we are not alone in the night set ablaze,
Please come with me and share this wonderful view!

Look up there, the clear moon is riding high in the sky,
As it journeys slowly through the good heavens!
This brings to the end, the darkness of the long lonely nights,
Come let’s soar high up and play amongst the stars!

Are you asking me about the songs of Spring?
Listen, Ramabifi Hills have them too!
The small birds are chanting merrily from the dense tangled branches,
More clearer than man-made music could bear!

I see you and I silhouetted together against the bright moonlight,
Yes, every single breath you take is mine!
Oh, I can feel every beat of your heart!
I woke up and looked around . . . yes . . . , I was only dreaming!


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pigeons,pigeons

your heart is avowed by nostalgic pigeons 
pigeons that you did away with stones

shabnamshirvani


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when a woman leaves a girl

after all,a woman's mistakes are different from a girl's
they are etched by fire on stone
they are in fact considered traits, not just errors
and now you're so alone
when you were 14 they all said how much potential you had
now you hit 19 or 20, and you're just considered bad
if you were a troubled kid, things were different than most for you
and i don't mean GETTING in trouble,although for some,it's that too
but depression is so very real,they just have no idea
and looking in the mirror to feel,you must skip your next meal
you are never good enough,and always fall just short of pretty
although you are considered smart and extremley funny and witty
they way that you percieve yourself,is different than what others see
at least that's what i have been told,do you agree with me?
but why is it that when your younger,people just want to help
but once you reach 19 or 20,your just dealt the cards your dealt
i don't feel any different inside,i can tell you that for certian
the older i get,the less they care,i hide behind a curtain
i'm still a kid at 21,at 22 as well..
im still a child in alot of ways,living in an emotional hell
where did all the helping hands go,the ones that were there before
i blame myself for not taking that help and will forever more
because now apparently,it's too late,nobody cares about me
i am not a cute little girl,just a woman who needs to be free
i ask of you,human to human,the next time you want to judge
pray for patience if you need to,ask for help from above
but something tells me im not alone,there are others who experienced this
there are others out there that need help so badly,please don't miss
don't miss their smiles,that are still so young,even though they look so grown
at 21 we are not adults,and pretending we are makes us feel alone
maybe i AM alone in this feeling,i have no idea
but what i do know,for sure i feel...this is very real.


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White Moments in Time

White days
White nights
White alabaster arms and legs
White crimson lights-

Oh, what seamless nights-
White moments in time
White memories - yours and mine,
White love, white hate
White demise-
of a inkling of what's left
of our white/hot passion
upon white silken sheets...
Only that is not what made our love complete-


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Fourteen Catfish

        Fourteen Catfish
Fourteen catfish swimin along
one was caught cause he went wrong
thriteen catfish swimin all night
two got hooked before daylight
eleven catfish in the brook
seven fell for the fisherman's hook
four big catfish sniffin bait
three of them just couldn't wait
one fat catfish all alone
got no girlfriend of his own.
      © ron wilson


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Hazy

Hazy memories float through my mind
reminds me of when i abused drugs
rolling around sanctified
waiting for the time to rise
upon this concaving conception

round cloning thought comes again
no wonder i stay distracted 
puzzling pieces never to fit
yet hazy memories float 
waiting to be extracted

buoyantly my sanity bobbing
in a sea of neutrality named my psyche
someday to catch through peaceful waves
memories that are my life
                         M.K.


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A Love frozen in Time

An old picture I hold in my hand.
It’s me and you and our love…frozen in time.
A silent witness, after many years, of a great love that no longer exists.

I ask myself, where is all this great love now? 
Where are you now? 

Don't ask me if was the truth when I told that I loved you.
Yes, I am sure that I loved you.
But if you saw me now, you would see another person.
It's no longer the man who told you that.
It was me many years ago.
Now that man doesn't exist anymore.
That man changed, as everything changes in this world.

The universe is a big recycling machine; nothing remains the same forever.
How many “frozen in time” moments in my life...
I see my face in the mirror and my face in the pictures.
Oh yes, it must be many moments; 
every one different from the other.
Every picture with a story to tell, 
a story to remind oneself of something for a moment; 
something big or small, good or bad, important or not.

This picture speaks for an immense love written in my heart.

A great love…frozen in time. 
 

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


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The road of the moon

I know, 
you have to go.
But remember
wherever you go, 
every night the moon will comes behind you
and i will follow that.
I will get the road of the moon.

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


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The glass of my life

I see you through the glass of my life 
When I breathe, 
the glass fogs up and I loose you 
If I don't breathe, I die, 
But it's worth seeing you!

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


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lost in space

lost in spACE
IN time and love
around it waste
all that i have
 
out there i go
as i tumble and dive
for this star i know
 
that keeps me alive
 
but, never so kind
not a breath of air
as my life unwind
i saw despair
 
in this dark eclipse
where my life i waste
just for a glimpse
once again of her face...

www.thinktok.blogger.com


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Part I-THE ESCAPE OF A ROOSTER NAMED HARBOR

A handsome rooster with red-breasted feathers, soft and lustrous,
and a head covered with golden plumage,
was too unhappy to sing about his age,
so he embarked on a long journey, sadly departing from his friends.  


Thousands of miles over farms, vallies, villages and cities he flew,
seeking with all his strength an urban, bustling place...
to terminate that monotony, which made him too blue
and disunite himself from an ordinary life which implied bondage.


And roaring over majestic mountains, rolling hills and cities with skyscrapers,
he encountered suspicious and envious eagles that
challenged him with their vicious shrills, but he displayed no apparent rage...
still diving into luminous and transparent clouds.  


The unhappy roosted had not rested for three long days,
and exhausted of flying, he decided to take a brief break by a bubbling stream;
his dry,wind-whipped eyes started to roll and he fell asleep...
and trancing and tossing, he rolled downhill into an harbor of sailing ships.


The well-rested rooster woke up around noon, finding himself in the lap
of a gorgeous boy and he was telling his mom kndly,
" I want this rooster, he can keep the lonesome and quite parrot  company."
And she replied, "It's a not a pet, my son!" she explained.


Mothers always try to please their kids, and sometimes spoil them,
not according to their customs and bekiefs...fathers are much stricter than them.
"I'll take care of him and I'll feed him, and soon he'll be living on our ranch home."
"From now on, his name will be Harbor: the lovely place where I found him."


The gentle boy kept his promise and Harbor became family,
and the untalkative parrot tought that Harbor to say the same and exact words he said,
and as days went by, nobody knew how he could utter them humanly;
and how did they find out that Harbor was smater than any other rooster or even bird?


They actually heard them in a challenging conversation who could find a perfect mate
in the shortest time and the shrewd parrot would surely be a winner,
but to his surprise, Harbor, with his accumulated widdsom, sought in a nearby, sunny farm,
where chickens were raised and transported on an old air conditioner freighter.


Harbor looked around, and he didn't seem to like any chicks he saw;
was he about to give up on his search? Suddenly not! He trotted past the noisy barn,
and to his bewilderment, he spotted a beautiful chick on the grass below...
and gallantly accosted her, and with a chat, he started a romantic affair by keeping her warm.


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American Music

American Bandstand caused dance explosions
fearful grandparents held investigations
jailed killers loved music 
nothing on plastic
quitters reverse strategies
underlining victories
wishing X 
youngsters’ zest



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The Night and Her Ways/Lost Under The Sun

there is a moon,
shining all alone
under all seas looming side to cloud
fall in our night and wait for the one who makes
slip in the prowl
the beasts hold night at growl
howling their sorrows
move midnight forever is tomorrow
come to our dark we run deep in the dusk
trust your lost soul while wait here for the sun

trust your yearning haven safely break
grey sky a-standing
standing far astray

lost under the sun
lost under the sun
lost under the sun 
lost under the sun

there is a place
marble floor and blue
there is a space 
that was meant for what was you
summer now white a different sort of lone
cold in our skin deeps
looking towards our glow

lost under the sun
lost under the sun
lost under the sun
lost under the sun


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Memories Among the Ruins

                                            " Memories Among the Ruins "



                                                  Yesterday I visited home

                                               and was greeted only by memories

                                                 Gone were the familar houses 

                                               left were crumbled ruins beyond the trees

                                              

                                                  No longer did children play

                                                bringing laughtor to this place

                                                    our swing lay broken on the ground

                                                now rotton lumber gone to waste



                                                     Each of us grew up here

                                               leaving a part of us behind

                                                     Sadly I stood there wishing

                                               for a child I can never again find



                                                       I saw many things amid the ruins

                                                though all had been gone many years

                                                       There were no more ballgames

                                                 or happy childish  cheers



                                                        Animals that were once our friends

                                                  are burried beneath an old oak

                                                         Once speacial toys have long been gone

                                                   just as Kenneths darn billy goat



                                                          Strangley I could hear faint calls

                                                   of Moma calling us to eat

                                                           But I knew it was only

                                                    my imagination caused by the heat



                                                            I can not restore yesterday

                                                      nor the child I once was    

                                                            I can only drift back occasionally    

                                                       as I am sure most of us does






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PaperBoats on RainyDays

spontaneous happiness bloats my mind
with floating boats made of sheets of pine
they smiled,
they laughed,
all while they swam,
but they only swim in my mind, never to swim again.

spontaneous happiness bloats my life
bleeding through all crevices, piercing like a knife
piercing dark days and bringing better ones to light
they've cried,
they've hurt,
all while they've lost,
but spontaneous happiness has no cost.

spontaneous happiness , my unattainable dream
to float on paper boats down an artificial stream
to float with an army of endless smiles
would someone dream with me for awhile?


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Another Season

                    I heard the mist of autumn as it whispered to the sun
               'tis time to paint the summer,another season has begun
                    Then The Author of the universe,like thunder here below
               announced to summer's ember,it's time for you to go
                     Set the trees ablaze with color,another season has begun
                and blend them with the heavens beneath the midnight sun
                      Whatever be the reasons,within each heart we know
                 as like the mighty rivers,all life through time must flow
                       Then I heard the fading summer,as it whispered to the sun
                  my yesterdays have passed away,another season has begun!
                                                                                                       Diesel Dan


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Moon At Noon!

I was lying leisurely on my back
on mid-morn Monday of May second
My gaze and glance heavenbound
The cloud forming into mountainous sheet, i observed
And disintegrating, like surf they dissolved
Disintegrated but in characters so hieroglyphics
Like Michelangelo's renaissance sculptural acrobatics
Through it i  had a permitted view
Of the noon by its arc in lieu
Of its fullnes, without its alluring presence
Stripped of its illumining essence
Appeared grey, blue and off-white
Stood plainly and passively tight
Like a lone spectator in an arena
So, the moon at noon seen but no sooner
Gone, like a spy that was almost unmasked
In consipracy by the uniting cloud concealed



This poem intends to capture a moment of passing day in time in rhyme for 
posterity, May 22nd 2005. 


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THE OVEN ROASTED GOBBLER

Thanksgiving Day has arrived 
in the nippy month of November,
and the dining room is in a festive mood;
Holiday music is softly playing in the living room...
the aromatic smell of the oven roasted gobbler
spreads to each room, to make everyone drool
for a taste  of this delicacy in the late afternoon,      
I bet all of them would!    


Yesterday morning I went to the local supermarket,
and looked for the youngest and fattest turkey,
the one which is tender and moist...a turkey guests love to eat;
and when I spotted the best one, I hurled it into my shopping cart,
and went straight to the cashier acting a little crazy,
knocking down piles of canned food all over the floor,
and making all the customers scream!
Somebody next to me yelled,
" Young man, be careful...look out!" 
Over there...another pile of tomato sauce jars
fell and the breaking glass sounded
worse than a quake hitting this quite town!
Embarrassed, and somewhat hilarious for the unexpected mess,
I rushed out with my heavy shopping bag...trudging like a hunchback!


The oven roasted gobbler steams on the table deplete
with lots of Holiday treats: eggnog, apple cider,
cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, roasted chestnuts
and a set of red candles to match the glossy plates;
O gobbler so perfectly cooked, you're ready for the sharp knife,
and be cut by the volunteer who will say, "Grace!"
O gobbler so tasty and young, wouldn't you love
to come back to life...and poke everyone with your beak?


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Darkness of Life

After being chary during every forthcoming gesticulation, her interesting kaleidoscope 
laughter, meticulously neurotically overzealous pleasantness, quickly restored 
suppressed...trembling; undeniably victorious wrinkled Xanthippe yelled zealously.

© January 2, 2012
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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i went to the park

you  were there  i  turned  around  and  tryed  to   walk  away.
the  littlle   boy  i  was   babysitting  wanted to  go on  the  swings.
so  i  covered  my   face  when  when  we   got  there  you  noticed me
you  walked  over to  me  and  said  i  know  you  from   work.i  tryed  to tell  him  i   
only  said   you'r  ugly  because  I  was  tricked   by  the  girl  that  does  not  like  
me. dressed  up  as  me  and  walked  over  to  you  and  said  you  were  ugly.


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Across The Internet

Words spinning in my head
forming a sentence
not what I would like to say
because I should be pleasant
and down to earth
not  to get my feathers 
in a ruffle
and certainly not to start 
a scuffle 
and yet not  to repress 
those thoughts 
just beat around the bush 
and duck the next shot
always keeping the proper manner 
doing what i do 
i've got poetic cander
and my words will be immortalized
across the internet 
as i await the next on-set
you'll be reading about the last 
around the world 
they thought was flat
and that folks is where it's at............................................


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My Rome maudlin No More

my eyes have seen the Glory, the glory evermore
la de fa et for ever more, Bellet ever more cry no
more our amorous our love, we are not Rome but
ya yet you will stand for ever more, Stand ever more
Rustic their way for evermore one mans waste creators
treasure, Muluct never, My bellet afa eta love for ever
more, my the seas for ever more track 15 musical soup
Rond de jambe en delors 4 times asseble (devnt )
or track 1 to 4 to   begining 3 times Fouette movements
may be don by spring perf instead of a releve'
doublework developpe a la seconde devant attituant 
fouette to attitude derriete promenade finishing in arabesque pen
ebee


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JUST SO NOSTOLGIC

SO NOSTALGIC

its just so nostolgic
i can barly stand it

to dream of the life i could of had
if i  would of stayed in stead of walk another way

the stories that i would of stared in
the lives of the people that i would be involved with
would i have meet a dream
or would i haved lived a late nightmare


cud i have just walked by sorrows door
instead of walkin in and sitting down with him

would i really be me as the picture is shown
or conform to society as a modern day dre clone

but the possible past is as only a false image of a play that will never have an audience

my mind so caught in this
its hard to be realistic
but people narrate from behind and think everything is basic
i promised my soul i would never be a statistic
this feeling so nostolgic

but the past was written on to star in the future
 it still taunts me to look back to that untold story

its
just
so nostolgic


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Empty room

Hello loneliness, my friend,
I want to speak with you again.

Please let me see her shadow
Let me hear her voice
Let me feel her touch

Feed me to my dream when I close my eyes
The darkness wants me back.

Let me carry her odor to my existence,
Let me burn within her warm.

Fly me to the skies after I will sleep
The morning star wants me back.

Let me close my midnight eyes forevermore,
Let me carry her shape to eternity.

Feed me to my dream
Take me back where I belong.

An empty room without you
Leaves me empty in my soul.

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved


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Cool Millions

So you  won a cool five million
Friends and family come out of the woodwork, even from the pavilion
You claim your life won't change
You distant yourself, become estranged
Fifty dollar tips for a ten dollar meal
You get a flat tire, so you buy a new set of wheels
You go from a two bedroom home
To an eighteen bedroom party zone
The honeys that used to spit on you
Now they treat you like a Guru
Sylvia said you couldn't buy her love
Now in your arms, you have your Snow White Dove
The purity from her was never there
She threatens to leave, you no longer care
Cocaine and speed are always on your menu
Parents of a minor female threaten to sue
You settle out of court, all your money you have blown
Now you are the Jester, no longer the King of your throne
So now it's back to skid row
You are back to living under the bridge as a troll


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there

Mom?
Love you
always so forgiving
i smoke
I think
I am my own person
Dad... he tried
But he didn't try like you
Mom, i'm gettin old
I'm gettin like you
I AM you
So, I'll make it.


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Pretty

I look in the mirror
I can except what I see
I'm still ok enough
but I'm older
not so pretty
I'm just barely me

I must be vain
but I have to be pretty
Don't I?
I'm kinda smart
But that's not worked for me
in the past

I swear to you
I don't know
what to do

I know your gonna hate me
my complaining
my looks are waning

I'm uncomfortble
haven't learned how to be
My brains. My opinions
ME


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BLACKENED CROZIER

Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.

Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.

Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.

Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.


 
SATISH VERMA


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CLAUSES

Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.

Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.

The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.

Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.

Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.

I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.


SATISH VERMA


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Love in the Hallway

So I'm slithering along the hallway
and all the lights are out
I come upon Mom and Friend
ignoring the man that shouts
He bangs upon the door
he begs, he implores
we stiflle our laughter
he hears, he begs more
I'm certain I shouldn't be a witness to these events
as a child nearly adult, I'm hard to convince
Hell no, I'm not going back to bed
I need to know why he's out of his head
Mama and Friend can barely contain
their fear and glee for this man's pain
I am breathless, enthralled at  "Their " power
to rob a man of what he thinks of "His" power
then Friend departs with Mr. Pain on his plane, so regal
she soon calls to report he's illegal
finally she returns to her kids, to us, her dogs
I was skulking around when she told mom 
"Thank God".


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IN THE WORDS OF A GULL

The beach below....
The way the wind does blow
The sea....
A sparkling jewel of blue
All for me....


How the sun rose...
Magically everyday
Full of colour and light...
Pure screech of delight...
Things I can see
Far below....
Where I can play

Everyday...
Something new
Far below...
A jewel of blue
The sea, that I love so...
The sea....
Where I play

The wind blew...
Carried me high...
Pure screech of delight...
Above a sea...
A jewel of blue
That reflected the sun's light

The day passes so swiftly...
Darkening sight
Coming of the night...
I must return to ground...
Rest,hear that sea sound
Wait patiently for the return,
of the light

A sea....
Sparkling so blue
The beach below...
Fill my heart so
The wind can blow
All for me...
On a day,
enlightened too...

The sun....
Rose for me....
Full of colour...
Full of light...
So I could fly....
On another day

Upon a silvered wings,
polished by the sun
The day.....
Made for fun
What it can bring
For me....
Upon a sparkling sea


Details | ABC | |

Hopefuls

I sleep and travel in my car
Along the way I make my pay by nightly gigs in bars
One dream, one vision burns in my mind
That one day will be my turn for a contract to sign
There is fame and fortune doing what I do best
To me every bar or whole in the wall is another concert, must give it all nothing 
less
Forget the idea of me being a wannabe, I am not a dime a dozen
I have no hook ups, I am nobody's cousin
Music and song come from within
It is the true beauty that lies below the skin
I hear there is American Idol auditions in the next town
All the hype, glitter, lights and sounds
The line is a mile long
Everyone wanting to finish their unfinished song
This is their therapy, a way to cleanse their souls
So much untapped talent here, they are all hopefuls
Excitement, nervousness, tension in the air
Becoming a big star is a dream we all share


Details | ABC | |

Nice guys finsh last.

 Put your best foot forward, turn the other check, be the bigger person, do to 
others, for get the past,
 You do what is right, step away from what is wrong, you live in peace, humble 
your self hard times will pass,
  The seven deadly sins you put to rest, lift others as you fall, pride, self 
worth,degnaty your brothers keeper gets old fast.
  born to clim the endless wall of dispair, hoping, beleaving, thinking, some day 
all the pain, worry, grey ski's, and the supporting cast,
  All will subside you too will live as you deserve to live, I washed my sins, turned 
the next page, turned the black hour glass,
  Looked down at the wicked as I climbed higher and higher to reach happiness 
only to find I have no grasp,
  Every dog will have his day, every cloud has a silver lining, for every good deed 
your found in the trash,
  I want to do whats right, what is the moral thing to do, the humanitary thing to do, 
yet I still have the disrespected rash,
  This game of life I played as a player, both evil and blessed only to find the 
sinners live and the saints crash,
  Look  me in the eye look and see I'm confussed, lost for it seems the more 
good I do grows the burdens mass,
  I've kissed the lips of an angel, listened to the black rivers sass,
Walked on water, rose in fire, divied in lust, and grew from the ash,
  And when I look at it all I see no matter what is done, no matter how much you 
do nice guys finsh last.