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Nostalgia Lyric Poems | Lyric Poems About Nostalgia

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

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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 | Lyric |

The First Kiss or That Darn Ann Landers

Son of a gun we were still young;
only 15 years gone by.
You were the first my kissing bubble to burst, 
and for you, I think so was I.
I wanted to start putting other parts 
of our bodies in the field of play;
But you stopped it instead as you paused and read 
what Ann Landers had written to say:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

You stuck to your creed in spite of my plea, 
and I didn’t want to press you;
So your hand I would hold and my tongue I would fold, 
even though I want to undress you.
Late at night my conscience I’d fight, 
still awake in my lonely bed;
Thinking of you and what I would do 
if these words weren’t still stuck in my head:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

I followed your rules, played it cool
for the first ten to twenty dates;
But by the end of the year to me it was clear 
we wouldn’t be tempting our fate.
So we parted our ways; ending our days 
to see other people instead;
As I set forth looking of course 
for a girl who hadn’t read:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

More than thirty years have disappeared; 
For me two wives and four kids.
And as for you, I hear it’s true, 
that getting married you never did.
I’ll never forget and never regret
That first kiss where we both did live;
And though I did slander poor ole Ms. Landers 
to my daughter this advice I now give.

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.


Details | Ballad |

Music Take Me Back

When I'm blue and need something to make me smile
I can turn on my forty fives and listen for a while
Jimmy Gilmer sang about a Sugar Shack
Holding hands, walking down that railroad track
Then I let the music take me back.

Take me back to a time when love was new
Take me back to a time when skies were blue
When we could catch that falling star
Make love in the back seat of my car
Music, oh sweet music, take me back

Doo-wop memories touched my soul
Mixed with the early days of rock and roll
I close my eyes and through the haze
I see sunshine and better days
Music take me back to those times again.

There was Bandstand on TV in black and white
Radio on 'til you fell asleep at night
There were dances at the school
And swimming in the community pool
Music take me back, let me remember when.

Did we believe those days would forever last
Were things so much better in the past
I dream of days when a movie
Meant kissing in the balcony
Music take me back, let my heart roam.

It seems like a thousand years ago
We found true love and watched it grow
I know this is where my heart belongs
When I listen to those songs
Music take me back, please take me home.


Details | Lyric |

The Old Homestead

Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 


The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.




© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...


Details | Lyric |

Our glance

This glance we share
With mirrored laugh
It fills my head
And makes me ache
Never to trial
But ever to share
And live unto
This common bond

And I smile...

For you
With you 
In you

And you see it
But know our grasp
Is one of distance
No means to touch
Remaining only 
In the quotes 
Which spiel
And linked eyes


Details | Lyric |

ACHES OF A BOW



.-G-. .-R-. .-O-. .-O-. .-V-. .-E-. .-S-. pierce my ears, caressing notes to rake tears on such moonlit aches, strings groan through passages on breaths as scrapes of violin lurch; veiled weeping dives low like fine spear falling on my riddled head, as if to crack reeds just there, enthralled by heaves of waved air swelling along melodies tragic in liquid gothic drones, my old innocence plucked raw beyond deep allegro of time; tunes' long drags hard to bear peeling my burnt flesh slow the fine bow screeches, I cry on slain notes. © by nette onclaud for Craig Cornish Concrete/Shape Contest


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 | Lyric |

The Love Song

You are the yearn of my days 
Like the new air of my breath
Sunshine greets through my morning
As if I was slept under the bliss

And if I had to leave from my certain place
To be the other side where there is you
I will catch every second of time
Just only to stay whole with you

I would say and sing it to the blue sky
How's love flood through our kiss
It made our world swirl and fly by
Like a miracle of pendulum swing

Days kept changing, unfolding
But still I'm insist to be here
Moon rose like too early
Seemed it stayed to be apathetic

And if I had to leave from my certain place
To be the other side where there is you
I will catch every second of time
Just only to stay whole with you

I would say and sing it to the blue sky
How's love filled and made me full with you
Immeasurable even by time
For all I want is you

And won't I take all those back again
Though I'm suffered in pain
Promised to be by your side
For I know and I can see 
The same lonesome in you and me 

*inspired by Anne Currin contest "Song Lyric"

Note: This is actually my old song lyric. I made a big modification and few changes of words in it regarding to the differences of language, but hopefully it still worth to be read :) enjoy!


Details | Lyric |

EMBERLIGHT

For a time I've been writing as the stream idles by
as dust storms are rolling, across a faraway sky
while sheep are a'bleating; as the cattle lie low
as I'm writing I'm watching, the white falling snow
it drops down in silence, from the dark coloured sky
I feel distanced, from the home that I'm holding
here in my minds eye..!

 © Joe Maverick 09-01-2010


Details | Lyric |

MEMORIES

I can
see them, feel them.
I can replay them, dwell
in them, control the world in them
I can.

I can
be a rich man
in them, win the game in
them, the premier league in them,
I can.

Alas
I cannot grasp
them, hold them, caress them.
Like the gentle tear, they just float
away!

Copyright 1993
Harry J Horsman 1993

















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