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Elegy Nostalgia Poems | Elegy Poems About Nostalgia

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Details | Elegy | |

Tragedy


The field is wet with sunshine,
Ripe grasses green and high;
With a reaper in the meadow,
And a bird flies in the sky.

There's a nest with little babies,
With three beaks opened wide;
A reaper's in the meadow,
And a song hangs in the sky.

The meadow's ripe with summer,
And a tragedy passes by;
With a scythe in the meadow,
And a song up in the sky.


Details | Elegy | |

If I Could

If I could wipe away the stars
I’d paint them in a row
And count them one by one
Then maybe I could live forever
But that would be a grand endeavour.

If I could wash the ocean floor
I would tie my hair up with seaweed
And I would ask the crab to dance
And his steps would be so fine
But that would be too divine.

If I could ask the skies to hear me
They’d guide me where to go
They’d show me the directions
In the clouds above the road.

If I could sing a song without words
I’d find you there in the shadows
Where the silence lives between octaves
And I would always sing on key
But that would be an impossibility.

If I could create time in an instant
I’d stop the clock when you called me
And the plane wouldn’t have to fly
It would sit and wait to be saved
But instead I cry at your grave.


Details | Elegy | |

Where are you

You flourished and blurred
like a spark on wind

Gracefully and quickly like a frightened hind
in pursuit of light

You harvested through bushy meadows
taken by blight

In struggle with plight
had you lost your might

And gave out
although never you gave up.

Where are you?
For you must be still there.

For I still can feel you
somewhere in the air.


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

Aging

When I am bent with the vintage of the years
A stick-man having lived my dissipation through
I will be as the bough of an ancient tree.
What once was a twig
Will resemble a branch of an Old Sequoia.
I will stand tall and straight if only in my mind
My grandfather's mole in mind and the wreckage of
Years past covered with moss and tears and blessedly 
Forgotten.
Like the plans of other mice and men 
My plans have gone 
Astray - and 
I have rejoiced in the most mundane.


Details | Elegy | |

MONOLITH

monolith wrapped
with blackish aura
now old lion has
lost it's strength 
wiggles under the
iron gossamer
sometimes yelps
yawns and sighs 
waiting in labyrinth
for macabre end




For P.D'S contest


Details | Elegy | |

Cakewalk

October held 10 family birthdays
all between 4 houses on Troy Street.
Each night after dinner we
set out on our walk for cake.
Aunt Lory’s house was rum
Aunt Josies, buttercream frosted white,
and Aunt Lu’s lemon, bright yellow, rich and moist
could made her St. Joseph’s statue drool.

We’d gather around the birthday boy perched on a chair, 
while us cousins stood, shoulder to shoulder,
eagerly waiting for the last note of the song to be sung.
I stood eye level to the burning numbered candles,
mesmerized by their melting wax dripping 
down the sides like sap from a tree.
Their light, drunk on sugar, danced wildly 
across our hungry faces.

Then with one large blow the room went black.
In those few seconds Darkness, like eternity
steals all their faces from my sight.
The room frozen, suspended precariously between
feast and fear, grief and gratitude, love and loss.
Lights return to applause as the knife cuts deep into the center.
Wishes like prayers are sent rising as curls of smoke
through a chimney, up, up to places far away.

Paper plates of sugar splendor are passed down and devoured.
We didn’t realize then, just silly girls with frost covered lips,
how everything of importance in this world fit at the end of that fork. 
With full bellies our good-byes are said on porch lite steps.
And the moon, like a lantern, radiant in the Autumn sky
illuminates our way home till our next walk,
Aunt Mary’s luscious chocolate layer cake.


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Grandma

Your spirit flew to life beyond the vail.
Those aged bones were what you left behind.
Though love remained with memory and tale.
A royal heart like yours is hard to find.

Ó November 16, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen


Details | Rhyme | |

Elegy for a Twinkie

No more Twinkies, no more Yodels;
Say farewell to Sno Balls, too.
Ring Dings soon will be extinct
And Devil Dogs, as well, are through.

Plus you’ll have to wonder where
Your fluffy white bread went because
If Wonder was the brand you bought,
This news I bring will give you pause:

For Hostess brands (and Drakes as well)
Have closed their doors, declared defeat;
But oh, those squiggle cupcakes! They,
In childhood days, were such a treat!

Hostess cakes are front and center
When I’m sweetly reminiscing.
I feel bad for kids today
And all those Twinkies they’ll be missing!


Details | Elegy | |

Toonami I Miss You So

Once, something we took for granted
Now gone, forever to be mourned.
My source of awesome anime has been transplanted.
Cartoon Network, you face an enemy scorned!

-----Note-----
Though it's been so long I still miss it. RIP Tom.


Details | Elegy | |

My Kashmir Burns (Part 1)

I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. News of another massacre darkens my eyes
Winds are thirsty there. They continue to taste the young blood.
I groom myself with exquisite things,
Sipping ice tea in ac room, I comfort myself
And Kashmir burns. Kashmir set ablaze

I can smell the warm blood of beaten corpse
Where from winds bought this smell. Somewhere Karbala reborn.
Mosques are being slammed
There windows stoned. And the black boots leave their footprints on Mimber
Even God judges on evidence
There is one Imaam left now; he hides her daughters in his shadow
A blunt knife in his hands; soon he will sacrifice them to keep their innocence
Kashmir is burning. Kashmir is bleeding
And I write.

Army jeep chases the tracks. To find the associated bodies
They are alive now. Soon they will be dead
From Patan to Sopor, And in narrow passages of nostalgic downtown
Ghosts of curfew
Haunt the houses for young souls.

From the Kupwara cantonments, search lights chase emptiness
Nothing is left now. Search lights can’t see inside the graves
A boy there went missing for two days. His father starts digging his grave.
I put my earphones on and I close my eyes. I sleep
While my Kashmir is ablaze
“It’s me poor farmer’s son. Kupwara’s charm, I feel no pain”.
I see him so alive in my dreams.
He chants songs of Mahjoor from his burnt lips. My hands shiver. He has no finger nails.
I see his smoke tanned skin. Same as that of Khayam’s barbeques
He stands at a distance from me. I can still smell kerosene
“Tell my mother to let her heart become cold. Her heart will not bear my state.
Tell my mother to let her eyes become blind. Her eyes will not withstand my sight.”
I follow him towards his tortured body. He tells me to follow the spilled blood.
His blood has made its own Jhelum. I row on it. Until it gets lost in black boots
The story will turn into legend. I find his body no more.

On the streets silence prevails. Nobody has permission to wail.
Sisters are beatifying coffins while brothers look for stones.
For bullets there will be stones
Kashmir is ablaze. She is wailing in grotesque tones.
In Lal Ded hospital a new born cries: Father register me at cantonment then take me out
Death is recruiting in dozens at a time.
Tomorrow is curfew. Death has no curfew pass.
How they want to identity you. Becomes your identity
People burn up all you identity cards.


Details | Elegy | |

I want to die

I want to die and go home
Life is void and transient
Sorrow and hardship is the pillar of life
Inequality and segregation is
the other name of life
Nothing is in life except mirage golds
that will even mislead me
to miss the eternal home
where things are utopia
and sorrow and agony, you will not taste
But eternal joy that will honey your soul
I want to die and go home
Torment has conscious my nostalgia
I will be happy if I die
For this home is elysian.


Details | Elegy | |

My Kashmir Burns (Part 2)

Another son is dead, until five he lived.
For his long life at Shah-Hamdan he had threads tied
“Shehij ninder yee nai. Gahas Kormakh Khudayas Hawale”, his mother cries.
No news can penetrate across the mountains. Satellites work here no more
My Kashmir burns. And no one knows.
An old woman with torn scarf sits besides fire. While feeding her neighbor’s child
She sighs. Is my son dead or alive? She silently cries.
In Madrasa I hear children reciting Quran. A girl’s come out dragging her feet.
I remember her from somewhere. I remember her seeing naked. 
Oh! God she is the one who was raped.

Nights have turned pitch black. My eyes are losing the habit of sight
Midnight soldier’s set another house ablaze. At least there is some sort of light.
Many letters have been written to God. Postcards posted of those raped girl’s 
But its curfew again. No post office deliver’s the message again.
Death comes from everywhere. Close your windows mother
For bullet respects no womb. It turned Gulistans into tombs.
From the plains the visitors come to visit their God’s
They are our only witnesses but hypocrites at heart.
They say paradise is kaasmir. While my Kashmir is ablaze
They testify against us. Is anybody witnessing this? No one at all
Be witness to at least this. Open up your eyes my Lord!

When paradise is painted with colors of hell, certainly divinity loses its grace
In the news the reporter is beaten. Bamboo sticks are hungry for human blood.
Let Kashmir go to hell. A new promise in their portfolio.
Threads have given up at Dastegeer’s place. Even they are horrified at our fate.
In Maisuma boys are dragged by police. They close their dreams, end their screams
In a police gypsy.
Men shape into monsters when they are given right to anarchy.
The gypsy drives them into the dark cantonments. They will remember this day
Interrogation officer comes. After celebrating his son’s birthday.
The winds from the cantonments bring their news
Burned tires around their necks. Burning stoves near their heads.
The knife tearing up their flesh.
And the boys cry, “We haven’t batted yet. Cricket. We know nothing”.

Death wants children to be headlines
Hunger has affected the heavens as well.
Graves are full. No more space left.
We need land of the plains. For our graves.
In the ac car the bureaucrat goes. The mother’s with search full eyes
Ask about their sons they lost. They drink their tears
And he sips champagne.


Details | Elegy | |

MY STOLEN MAGIC CARD

Blind and numb like death 
dispenser of cudinatis, enemy of 
the masses of mascara! 
Made possible by holy 
wizardry not in white Man's land
but within the enclave of black sentiment!
golden fleece released by mental ingenuity
I fear science! Technology awes me 
in bewildered extremism!
But alas, my magic card is stolen
by the nemesis of unfortunate 
altruism. Two ignoble gentlemen
joined in mischief stole my magic card!
Peddlers of ungodly trade
prodded this ugly  cudgel at
my brow! oh! lola, noblest of 
mankind! my miffed lips hardly 
could utter a word to its detriment!
Oh! thanks, heavens! the card
lacked hole for unholy propitiation
they shall maneuver but the head
lies in the birth of the owner
except death and forceful recovery
can take away the secret number.
Alas naija! Alas my brother!
The trade mark identity has 
been stolen. Whence shall I
go for reimbursement of the 
stolen naira or who shall replace
the golden wallet? I do not 
know! This act does not 
surprise the city of Lagos, the
capital of moral impropriety.
At the end of this three moons,
my loads I shall pack and run
to safety where sanctity and truth
reign. in the north, similar
episode outplayed and the result 
unexpected. But in this Lagos, theft
and perjury escalate.
Alas! Alas! My magic card thy
holy comfort I shall deeply miss
adieu! Sweat rainfall, adieu


Details | Elegy | |

When words mean nothing

How to abate the loathing
When words mean nothing?

There are moments
In human existence

When
Any resistance
against baleful fate
is futile.

When
One is left
with his thoughts
Forsaken 
by all gods

Astonished immensely
by the world vile
which first
gave him birth
and now
devours him
with mirth

Agonizes he
in every spot
on the Earth

Where does his heart belong to
Never will he learn

How to console such a man
When all words would burn?

How to abate the loathing
When words mean nothing?


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

Bloodless On Mother's Day

There is a glare of stray sunlight
daring to reverberate
through spiderwebbed glass I haven't
found energy to fix
in the span of four years.
It is too much of a mirror,
too tangible a thought,
to make new.
It's lithe fingers, thin and bony, 
and mockingly bright,
steal over embossed cardstock that arrives, like clockwork,
in deepest sympathy.
And a thornless bouquet of pastels laden with
Babies Breath
only draws on blood long lost;
nobody seems to comprehend such an allegory,
or lack there of,
so it can't be carried
over the steps.




"Bloodless On Mother's Day"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith


Details | Elegy | |

Time, Love, and Loss

He loves her. 
His love for her never ends. 
“Love is patient, love is kind.” 
The good book says. 
Time..
It is your best friend if you think about it. 
It is also your worst enemy; 
It shows no mercy nor welcomes your white flag. 
The sinister disguise of Death and his pale green horse,
Hung in offices, homes, and churches. 
12:08 pm.. 
Tears paint his face and the rain befriends him. 
12:35 pm.. 
Hugs, kisses, and condolences: 
“Love never dies.” 
“Love lasts for eternity.” 
“She will always live in you.” 
I don’t respond; 
I lack the strength. 
I have crafted up a bronze statue in my heart. 
Forever will my love be for her. 
Forever will I be her keepsake.  
The consequence of love is not a tragedy as I once believed. 
The tragedy is not understanding what love is. 
The tragedy is not being loved. 
My heart is now the way it should be.


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

The Grandfather You'll Never Know

I remember how I cried
The day my father died.
The doctor laid the blame
When he said that cancer came:
Lymph nodes, lungs,
Philosophy of Carl Jung,
Words of explanation
For everything, no blame,
Too late for shame.

The final service was long.
I tried to be strong.
But the stench of red carnations
Can still fill my imagination,
People’s faces,
Words of the Lord’s graces.
Planted in a peaceful lawn,
For the shell of this world is gone,
Yoked into heavenly bliss.
But, when I think of him
There's so much we missed.

I remember how I’ve sighed,
Thinking of my dad with pride.
I’d sit on his knee
My ear to his chest,listening to him hum,
And he’d give me his pennies for free.
He would mow, I’d sweep,
Then we’d have a snow cone treat.
Poles, bait bucket, tackle box,
Days we spent fishing from piers and docks.

Hair black like Elvis’,
Ears and features like Clark Gable’s,
Loud animated stories
Of his oil company job,
At the dinner table.
Fedora, big pleated trousers,
A pocket watch on a chain,
When I close my eyes
I can see him again.

I look in the mirror and can see his eyes,
Staring back at me in an eternal guise.
He didn’t live on to see me grown, 
Missed out conversation on the problems I’ve known.
But his gifts of life,
And his gifts of earthly love
Still ground me on earth,
Angelically guarding and guiding
Like the finest made glove
Existing throughout our human family's
Journey of love.


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

Marie III--Is the Coffin Too Deep

So frigid was her immaculate body Her last second in screams is all I can see Love's revenge was my guilt With you I'd rather let you die with Bound hands Without you, Marie, like the psychopath's dream Death is all that I can see; All that could redeem Did anyone ask Did anyone recall The sweet taste of the poison The swift slash of the knife he penetration of the lead The pain of her decaying heart I can hear it's bellowing cries But why can't you, Marie, Hear my paranoid eulogies Is the coffin too deep? Was it so hard to solve Was it so hard to see That I strangled her so easily My nails piercing her comely skin Blood dripping like the pomegranate I crushed with the shovel I shattered her shins The knife to slight her wrists Didn't you see I did it all The only witness Couldn't say Is the coffin too deep? The pain of her decaying hear tI can hear it's bellowing cries But why can't you, Marie, Hear my paranoid eulogies Is the coffin too deep? Marie I cant stay Earth is to cruel when your coffin is to deep Forever in death and in death alone The pain of her decaying heart I can hear it's bellowing cries But why can't you, Marie, Hear my paranoid eulogies Is the coffin too deep?


Details | Elegy | |

An Angel's Touch

When we lose someone close to us They're really not gone at all They speak to us through an angel's touch Listen closely and you'll hear their call For the spirit of those we love Lingers behind to play A melody of memories You can cherish every day So when the gentle breezes blow And music fills the air Remember the angels who touch your life And know they're always there


Details | Elegy | |

Tribute to John Denver

“I am a song that needs to be sung.”
Words by John Denver inscribed in Aspen.
While walking the path alongside the Rio Grande
A circle of stones in memory of John Denver does stand.

Inscribed on the rocks are the words of his songs.
They moved me deeply as I strolled along.
Realizing that I was in Aspen because I did spy
A tribute to John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High.

It sparked a desire to experience Aspen for myself.
Now here I am encircled with John Denver’s wealth.
I wasn’t a huge fan, but I did enjoy his songs.
His words stand tall beyond being written in stone.

I moved along the trail into an evergreen forest
Dwarfed by the pines as the river flows toward us.
Emotional connectivity with Aspen’s sheer mountain beauty.
Sitting on a rock in the river my only duty.

Feeling inspired to move again on the trail
An energy spoke to me; no words were entailed.
You are a song that needs to be sung
You are a bell that needs to be rung.

You are the newness of fresh mountain air
You are the energy of spring’s budding stare.
You are the eagle resting in its high nest
Ready to soar through the sky when the time is best.

You are the Rocky Mountain High
Colorado is the place for you to sigh.
Heave out the energy that is stored within
Sing your own song with a loving spin.

In gratitude I salute John Denver’s soul.
In the beauty of the Rockies, he continues his role.
Inspiring people to greater heights through his words.
Thank you, John Denver, for my heartfire heard.




Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

THE INCARNATE

 On a day never unseen
 when our souls are called to rest
 And our bodies returned to dust
 From whence they came
 Whether burdened with age
 Or unable to cross life's next stage
 If in bed we Lia in wait
 Or by force others do take

 On a day not unforeseen
 When the key to our creation
 Unlocks the door to mans destruction
 And all hope in life, LOST...!
As men have always been half
 in love with death

 Cyclically life and death move
 For death brings us sorrow
 But a day would come we will all follow
 And when again life is gone
 In new bodies we shall be born

 In whom evil dominates
 A lower being regenerates
 In whom good prevails
 A pure soul avails


Details | Elegy | |

Marguerite

You were like a delicate flower so fragile and pure,
But you would never bloom again as you did before.
Maggie my dearest friend,
We'd known each other since the age of ten.
No longer will I see that beautiful serene face ,
And in my heart there's an empty space.

We both married and went our separate ways,
Now I sit back and reflect on those days.
Whenever we met we had so much to say,
That it always took an entire day.

Our lives took a rocky course,
And after several years ended in divorce.
We were like sisters You and I,
I never thought that you would suddenly die.

I know that Mother Mary is standing with arms opened wide,
As she gently ushers you inside.
My devoted friend hear my urgent plea
That when my time comes,
Please keep a place in heaven for me.