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Nostalgia Husband Poems | Husband Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Details | Free verse |

Afloat On a Lavender Sea

Decades yawn and stretch across the years, traveling up the stairs, around the chairs coiling around the door of one small room that was groomed by the sun of a Saturday afternoon... Floating on a sea of a hardwood floor I'm prone, on my back, on a lavender rug Examining the nail of my left hand thumb hearing you express, that you aced your class I had confessed, to missing you more each day linked only to you, by that ivory phone and a ring on my finger, that bound our love and blinded our eyes to the doubt of youth... Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold There was a cake on order, and a cold hard world You were glued to my ear, I was entrapped by a cord that tugged on the wall, with every word Light from the yard is scored by the blinds but, there on the floor, prone on my back, I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives Linked to your voice, where love was wound Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood, I had a pillow of shag of a lavender rug The days stretching short and our vows yet untold A cord getting stronger, that time would unfold
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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 | 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? |

Today Is Terrible----

The cracked spine of
the book I dropped
at the call.
A chip in my
windshield left by a
pompous *?#@! in a
red sports car as I
drive to the
service.
Rain expectorating
from an ashen sky as
the dirt is turned.
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
crack in grandma’s
spine from her fall
down the stairs.
The chip in her
amazingly smart mind
after eighteen years
as a teacher.
Tears running,
dripping from my
Mothers ashen face
as she cries “My
mama’s dead.”
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
cracked family
emotions left raw
and empty.
The chip in Grandpas
numb mind at the
gathering… “Where is
Irene she should be
here?”
Faces gone ashen
with dread, do we
leave him numb or
remind him that his
wife is dead?
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
empty silences,
missing the jokes
Grandma used to
crack.
Grandma’s laugh and
her endless smile
which always exposed
that tooth with the
chip in it.
Without her the
world has become
empty, bleak, and
ashen.
Today is terrible.

                   
                   
                   
          Summer
Gratias


Details | Light Poetry |

' Rain, Fire, Ice and Breeze '

I Watched A Man, Named, ‘ Rain ‘
Pounding Across The Plains
Running with Cascading Joy
Like a Wet, Happy, Little Boy …

I Found A Man, Named, ‘ Fire ‘
Blaze in Life, A Lightning Desire
His Bold Passion – Consuming Power
Sent Smoke Signals, to My Tower

I Observed A Man, Named, ‘ Ice ‘
Tho’ Frost-Natured, He Did Entice
‘ … Come Hold Me, if You Dare …
And Find Out, if Cold-Can-Care …’

… I Beheld A Man, Named, ‘ Breeze ‘
And Begged Him, ‘Touch Me Please …
Gentle, like a Lover’s Kiss
Whisper to Me, Things I Wished…’

… and Sitting Content, on This Hillside
Listen Now… as I Confide …
‘ Rain and Fire … Ice and Breeze ’
Don’t You Know … You Are All Of These . . .


Details | Light Poetry |

' The Pearl Ensemble ... '

… I Awoke to  A Classical, Pearl Ensemble
A String Quartet’ Upon My Pillow
Your Bass, Echoed – like an Ocean-Rumble
‘… I Love You …’ Plucked the Polished Mellow-Cello’

and the Flawless Violins and The Viola – Flow
Rushed to my Wavy Shore – Aglow
Displayed and Spilled, like a Whirlpool- Vibrato …
… Your Cultured Concert, left me … Staccato’

… I Awoke to A Classical, Pearl Ensemble
A String Quartet’ Upon My Pillow
and as Each Iridescent Drop, Solo-Sheen-Tumbled
… My Own Heartstrings, did Crescendo... Maestro


Details | Free verse |

If I Forget

If I forget,
Remind me of your name
As it must have slipped away.

If I forget,
Show me a photo of my face
As it surely has changed.

If I forget,
Take my hand back to that place
For I've certainly lost my way.

If I forget,
Breathe a gentle breath in my ear
If will calm my fear and rekindle the flame.

If I forget,
Bring the heart straps
That held me to you like glue.

And if I forget,
Carry the memory of us
It is lost but a treasure on a raft on the waves...

TRS, 09/13/08


Details | Pantoum |

Summer Memories From The Tree of Life

Summer season was  my childhood’s  greatest fun  time,
We played with toys out of a coconut tree which is a tree of life,
We  built  little houses beautifully and so high as we climbed
Like a flying trapeze  on its leaves,  we swung so high.

We played with toys made of coconut trees, the tree of life,
My playmates joined me in building  little houses using a dull knife,
Out of its leaves and midribs, we made walls, roofs and doors,
Pretended as good cooks with its coconut shells  and fruits.

My playmates joined  me in building little houses using a dull knife
Pretended  to live together as families with husband and wife,
I took the role of an elder sister in our little comfortable house
I combed the hair of a younger sibling with a coco midrib brush.

Pretended to live together as families with a husband and wife
Just like small neighborhood or community along the riverside
We chose one of the eldest playmates to be the group captain,
The leader of  unity and cooperation in building more tents.

Just like small neighborhood or community along the riverside
We helped one another as piles of coco leaves we made as rides,
We made unique toys out of leaves and roots as much as we could
Like trumpets when blown, we covered our ears for its loud sound.

We helped one another as piles of coco leaves we made as a ride
We webbed balls, insects and other toys for a surprise to hide,
When the captain signaled to show who's the most  had a reward
Then ran with our wind vanes to the beach and marched forward.

We webbed  balls, insects and other toys for a surprise to hide
We played with toys out of a coconut tree which is a tree of life,
When the captain signaled us to show  the most  had a reward
A wonderful  summer  memory  from a Tree of Life I've ever had!


Sept. 11,2012

Note: The coconut trees are considered the “Trees of Life”. They can provide almost all the things we need like shelter, clothing, foods and others. So, let us preserve coconut trees! They are very helpful but be careful because they are also  risky during typhoons, LOL.   There are many coconut trees in our backyard especially along the riverside connecting to the beach. These trees had added so much joy on summer time during my  childhood years/graders.


Details | I do not know? |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Free verse |

One Day

An unlikely couple
with that rare happiness you only see in movies


her hand is cupped in his lovingly
and his smile is so genuine it could outshine a full moon

their conversation is held strictly in their blissful gazes
but what they say is obvious

for them there is no other existence
no other life but the other

and even as they grow old
gracefully, with now wrinkled smiles

there is no couple like them
as if he were Adam, and she Eve

I watch them daily
with hope of a love only to be compared
by the difference between the heat of a steaming cup of joe
and a glass of ice water dripping with condensation

to have bliss like them
I would...No, I will be complete

One Day


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