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Nostalgia Social Poems | Social Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Details | Rhyme |

THEY DON’T BITE LIKE THEY USED TO

He sat there in his fav'rite chair, a blanket 'cross his lap 
And covering his snow white hair was his old fishing cap. 
I knew he could not talk to me since suffering the stroke, 
But still I sensed he could relate to ev'ry word I spoke. 
"I went and wet a line today ... down where you caught that cod. 
The biggest one you'd landed yet and though it was my rod 
I reckon he was yours all right ... but cod are far and few.  
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
"The algae's building up again and stuffing up the creeks, 
Though at long last we had a fresh, the first in flam’in weeks. 
Pulled twenty stinking euros in, along with one old dew, 
But they had sores all over them, though still that's nothing new. 
The cotton farmers cry, "Absurd!  It can’t be from our spray." 
Perhaps the fish have just got aids from turning flam'in gay. 
Its getting pretty sad all right, but what can one bloke do.   
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
"McDonalds seems to be the go and good old KFC 
And eating yellow-belly is a flam'in rarity.   
Your grandson won't go fishing as he says it's just for nerds 
And when I take the missus we just end up having words. 
I really miss our fishing trips, your company was swell 
And by the mist there in your eyes you miss them dad as well. 
I heard you sold your tinny mate, your outboard motor too.  
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
They're introducing fingerlings and giving that a shot, 
But duckweed takes the oxygen which kills the flam'in lot. 
The droughts have had their toll as well and one thing that's for sure; 
I can't see in the future dad a remedy or cure. 
So mum's ducked down to Salty's mate and I would dare a punt 
She'll come back with a feed of fish before you say Rex Hunt. 
I guess we'll have to wash it down with some of your home brew. 
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 


Details | Quatrain |

The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



Details | I do not know? |

Tishmandu

Tishmandu
 
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
 
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
 
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
 
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
 
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth 
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
 
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
 
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
 
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
 
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
 
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame

As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
 
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
 
RAMA, Ink


Details | Verse |

Apollo

I never meant that much to you,
   Though from Olympus' heights you came;
Yet I gave you my mortal love,
   While you played your immortal game.

Although my heart I freely gave,
   I never meant that much to you;
You wooed me with your golden harp
   On fragrant grass 'neath skies of blue --

And when you scaled the heights once more,
   Did you think I would slowly die?
I never meant that much to you --
   So why do you now shake and sigh?

Oh, how the golden god has changed!
   Your sun-kissed hair has lost its hue;
And I have wed a mortal man --
   I never meant that much to you.


Details | Light Poetry |

FLIRTY DANCING

valse,valet a,highland fling
viola,fiddle,music string;
minuet,pavane rondeau
tripping lightly to & fro.

flirty dancing,fancy free
quick-step and ladies excuse-me;
fox trot and last waltz slow,
holding close,as passions grow.


Details | Personification |

HipHop Is dead

Hip-Hop is dead
I can’t feel the throb, the devotion, the dedication
I wear all black
Black stilettos, black cut dress, aimed real low
Seductive but simple, I know my place
Beside the King, my sweet deceased Revolutionist 
Rap’s number one supporter, holding the casket with a broken
           S I G H
Someone plays, a radio, across the way
Slick beats drip past the ears to slime the brain
Wet and easy manipulated clay
Media displays wealth and misogyny
50 million dollar chains  
Females addicted to being slapped around
Like China Dolls in half-made    Cl    o   thes
Pose, Shawty and let this crunk beat fill your hips
Purse your lips, Mami, and I’ll let you
Be my accessory
Remember when the revolution was a evolution of the mind
Freestyles match drums in intensity
When freestyles were uncontrolled like the wild brown skin he was in
I felt, loved, Hip-hop in my veins
Let him be the catalyst  for the beating of my heart
I was so in love with his swagger, his love of himself and his people
Hat tipped real       low      to hide the pain

Beat real tight to stop the taint
Of failure and to rise like the dust after a stampede
I’d take Hip-Hop to bed every night
Let him rise and fall like the heaving of my chest
It was so hot I could barely breathe for the intensity overcoming me
The pounding of intellect in my throat
Stroked me from head to toe
And Rocked my ghetto loving soul
And he said things I’ve waited my whole life to hear
play sweetly in my ear
Dreaming of dreams too big
To let fade away
He grew shallow, loving women with hollow heads and thick thighs
Low rides and forgetting what he left at home
Long nights and overtime left me alone
Released hundreds of  artists
Torn between money and the spoken word
His best friends tried to revive what was inside, too late the damage took over
50 Cent arrived with Lil’s, and Young’s and a mess of southern heat
I was there when the light left his eyes
After Dr.Dre’s Chronic
Hip-Hop was Dead 


Details | Verse |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Free verse |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Senryu |

Playground

Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!

Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Frowns exchange 


Details | I do not know? |

South African Freedom Day

freedom day 
(april the 27th 1994)


far too many brave compatriots died

and

flooding rivers of tears were cried

far too many families ripped apart

with

daggers cutting into their heart

the pain is felt still deep today
on this glorious sun-splashed South African Freedom Day

as we pause and remember those who do not remain with us anymore

as we appreciate the fruits that their sacrifice and struggle bore

far too many to count and to name

but we honour them all while we keep burning that eternal flame

...Oliver Reginald Tambo
...Chris Hani
...Solomon Mahlangu
...Prakash Napier
...Yusuf Akhalwaya
...Matthew Goniwe
...Neil Aggett
,,,Ahmed Timol
...Vuyisile Mini
...Hector Peterson
...Babla Saloojee
...Bram Fischer
...Dulcie September
...Sparrow Mkonto

just a few, but so many still nameless

who were brutally cut down
by a racist system that was merciless, and cruelly shameless

we honour you, today
but we remember you each and every day

when we breathe in the air of the freedom that you craved

as we walk the roads of a wounded but healing country that you saved

from itself, for the hate and racism and hushed prejudice of race and gender and religion and sexual persuasion and caste and creed

that you so valiantly fought against, is still with us, as it on fear and ignorance does feed

the odour of racism and hate
of white and black and jew and muslim and hindu and catholic and yellow and brown

is a living parasite that lives and thrives all across this beautiful world, from cities and villages and hamlets, to the smallest rural town

it may become a mark of shame upon us all 

so we have to, today, struggle against and boldly fight

for the sacrifices of the many can never be cheapened, by the polite dinner-table murmurs of hate, try as hard as they might

for if we as a nation, 
a country 
a world 
a people 

one people

are to truly step out of the lashing cold painful rain

we have to continue your struggle

so that your supreme sacrifices may not have been in vain...

and so we say 

'hamba kahle, comrades'

to you who laid your young lives down and slipped away

so that we who remain may in the sunlight and out of the rain live and breathe and stay

in a country, and in a world
where religion and gender and sexual-persuasion and all colourful hues

may mingle and love and laugh and cry together on the sun-filled avenues

so thank you, comrades, for showing us a better path that we must embark on as we shuffle onwards into a brighter tomorrow

away from the hurt of the past, and away from the tears and away from all the sorrow

for the true freedom that we seek now, is the freedom from our own racism, our own prejudices, our own sexism, our own petty hates and bottled-up anger

for therein, lies the fight ahead

for therein, lies the real and growing danger.
Aluta Continua!
Amandla Ngawethu!

The Struggle Continues...


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