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Ode Nostalgia Poems | Ode Poems About Nostalgia

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Details | Rhyme | |

Ode To Vigan City

Take your halcyon moment, have your blissful jaunt
Explore the northern hills and rivers, their helix flaunts
From zigzag paths of the south, from verdant plains of the north
Passing by the west coasts, ascend to their conjuring heart fort

Set off now and tread down to a cobblestone avenue
With joyful wagon ride, gaze the Heritage City’s stunning view
Spanish buildings in hedge, hewed by the greatest history
Of a beautiful country called, The Pearl of the Orient Sea

Museums in slumber, sing the spirit of heartwarming hospitality
Preserving the priceless antiques,  ancestors’ unique creativity
Well-crafted on Spanish Colonization, cherish in golden memory
The country’s Great Forefathers, their true heroism and bravery

At the heart of a city gloriously stands the city’s cathedral
In front stretched a dancing fountain embraced by a lover’s park
With conservative Maria Clara style, stroll with Jose, your pal
And taste the most delicious delicacies from morning ‘til dark

A hammock that rocks you to the enchantment of the past
With indelible imprints of rich cultural heritage in relentless lush
Visit this reigning beauty, your rewarding experiences enfold
Vigan City hailed as one of Top Seven Wonder Cities of the World


Copyright 2014 Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved



-Sharing with you an old poem of mine. 



I spent some of my childhood years here. My parents sent me in this place to study.  It’s one of the most wonderful places and one of my most favourite hometowns:)) 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Camp Anawana (An Ode to 20-somethings' Nostalgia)

Sometimes I can't believe it
It all happened so fast
Real life is truly here
Just who is that looking at me in the mirror?
How come these bills are addressed to my name?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up

Sometimes I miss the days
When your crush had cooties, not STDs
And afternoons were spent climbing trees
And it's hard to grasp our age
Who's that man calling you "his wife"?
How come that little girl just called you Dad?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And we're all grown up

Sometimes the kids today
Make me feel so old when they say
They've never heard of Kurt Cobain
But I know that we're better
Cause we could fix our Nintendo in just one blow
And we all figured this out sans Twitter
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up

I remember the stupid things
Pogs and Goosebump books
Playlists were mixtapes on cassettes
And Friday nights meant TGIF on ABC
Nickelodeon was our only obsession
Friend requests were made in person
And they still showed music videos on MTV
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And it's a different world - Nothing's the same
Cause we're all grown up


Details | Ode | |

' The Face Of Love '

Will I Recognize… The Face Of Love?
Or the Wonderful, Bedazzled Appearance of:
A Moon-kist Meadow, Hushed and Dark
A Solitary Silhouette, this Beauty Mark,
Windswept Grasses, like a Babe’s Soft Lashes
Rippling across Earth, that’s smooth as a Cheek.
In the Hushed and Flowery Scented Air…
Your Face of Love Materializes, Silvery, Full
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.

From the Face of Love … Will I Withdraw?
The Face of Love without Any Flaw;
As a Canopy of Clouds with the Splendor of Sunbeams
Piercing past the fluffy powder of Heaven, to Radiate Gleams
A Classical Cameo-Sculpture, Perfect Profile Structure
Yea… in the Bright Beacons, I see Your Smile
In the Illumed, Clear Sky, ‘Your Face’
Can Love’s Face be Touched … Attainable?
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.

The Face of Love … I Have Visualized,
Potent, Breathtaking, The Vision Rised;
From a Sunlit Lake, Winking as Would Diamonds.
Your Face of Love, Emerging from Far Beyond
The Depths of the Lake, as My Heart Quaked,
because of the Wavering Portrait’s Peace
because of Water-Color Caresses.
That Face of Love, was so Tangible.
The Face of Love … so Unforgettable

The Face of Love … has Gazed Upon
Dreams of Mine, the World’s Not Known
… Out of the Woodland’s Emerald Mist
With Drops of Dew, Love’s Face Kissed
The Framing Boughs; My Relaxed Brow.
Floating… Breathing out the Mist of Morn Light
That I may Sketch Your Face of Love, in Life.
The Face … More Handsome, than Sons of the Womb, is Possible…
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable

(For A Medieval-Tongued Poet, I Found Here at The Soup...
          Ismael Nieves, this one's for you Kiddo

                                 Mistress MoonBee


Details | Ode | |

Because They Play the Game

Dedicated to every young man bestowed the honor of wearing 
the glorious Oklahoma Sooners' Crimson & Cream 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Over sixty years, boy and man, I have been a Sooners fan;
And always hoped to be among the truest in the stands.
And while I don’t remember all the Players’ names,
They’re my Heroes, each and every one, because they play the game.
  
When they’re on the field of battle, my Sooners surely give their all;
And when they’re on the sidelines, just waiting for a Coach’s call;
Visions of Glory must be dancing in their heads;
The Glory of the moment and our cheers, the Glory of playing for
   the mighty Big Red.

And for those Sooners who rarely played, whose names were 
   known only by a few,
Make no mistake my friend, each of them is my Hero too.
Like Soldiers waiting in the ranks, but never called to fight,
They ‘re ready and they’re willing, their spirit and their sacrifice
   add to Big Red’s might.

I stand in awe of Sooner Magic.  No, I never doubt it.
My Sooners could have never won so many Championships without it.
But don’t misunderstand when I say Sooner Magic won those games;
It was Sooners players who, once again, rose to the occasion and
   glorified the name.

Sixty years of college football and my Sooners have won the most.
Their fierce pride and performance inspire this simple toast:
“My Sooners Team goes on and on, different faces, different names;
But my Heroes, Each and Every one, for win or lose…
                                              
                                 They play the game.


Details | Ode | |

Ode to First Love

I used to see you every day From a distance A subtle wave, a fleeting smile From afar… My heart would quicken At every instance And all the while T’was from afar… You were that sublime unreachable ideal… That all young lads Must suffer through… I often wonder If it was… At all the same With you… Did you wait and wish To see my face Did your breath quicken At my shy, sly side-wise look… Did your cheeks glow warm Did your heart start to race Did your breast seem to ache With every breath you took We’ll ne’er know You and I Twas ne’er meant Our love to find We only met and loved From a distance Our kisses and caresses Only in my mind A bittersweet time In every young lad’s life A subtle wave…a fleeting smile A heart bereft in sorrow This time will pass Yet live forever First love, first broken heart First tear filled tomorrow And in my mind I’ll always wonder where you are The one who gave That subtle wave… That fleeting smile …That first love from afar…


Details | Ode | |

Ode To Harmony and Serenity


From an inception lofty,
 high and above,
We were sent all,
 not a single one excepted, 
low.

We were never on earth, 
we knew then how to love,
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
When to sow?

Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where to sow?

Down is the show, 
the law, 
the structure 
and road.

Down is the coward, 
the knave, 
the brigand, 
and the bad.

Down to earth, 
downtodate, 
slfish, 
all of them 
and no less;

The way is descending, 
descending. 
Where then to go?
We want ours to be ascending, 
ascending as a lark's.

Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?
Our eyes are searching for you, 
filled with tears;

Our hearts are devoid of warmth, 
fraught with layers.
Roses, 
where are they? 
Flowers, 
making prayers;

But when winter comes, 
when winter comes, 
no fears.
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?
Harmony and serenity, 
we are reaping the harvest;
Is it ripe? 
Rich? 
Is it fine? 
Fruitful? 
This harvest?

From now on, 
nothing would ever be the same.
Rise.
From now on, 
everything is truthful. 
Not a body of lies.
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?

"And if the past is passed, 
why moralize upon it?"
No one returned, 
no one ascended. 
Where is Jesus?
The Giants are gone. 
But justice, 
has it been done?
No need to weep. 
No need to sigh deep. 
Bright is the sun?
Harmony and serenity, 
where are you? 
Where are you?

From now on, 
nothing would ever be the same. 
Rise.
Nowhere are you to be found 
Harmony and serenity.
Unless you are not within, 
you are then pity?
Being your slave, 
no other way but to pray and rise.

Chokri Omri


Details | Ode | |

Remembering Belle

She was a devoted ole gal always at her best
so many days I cried hanging off her chest     
down to the lake in the hot summertime
we would cool her off and swing on a vine

Every morning at five am here came Belle, now my friend
and again at six pm there Belle was ready to work again
years passed and Belle became a part of our family
we worked, we played, and we milked twice a day

Half my life she was one of my dear friends
I greeted her in summer with warm sun burnt skin
and in winter I spent my time warming them
when Belle died I can't say things were ever the same again

Belle had become more than a cow in a pen, who gave us milk
she became a babysitter, a circus act, part of the swim team, for the neighborhood
but most of all Belle had become a lonely teen's dear friend



Details | Ode | |

The turn of progress

The bakelite disc revolved at seventy-eight
To end up in shards shattered, an inevitable fate
Heavy and brittle and full of opera
Was replaced with a vinyl at thirty-three
With covers a delight to see
Light and supple full of she loves you, yeah
And then came the cassette from nowhere
And pretty soon the Walkman walked
And less and less and less teens talked
But nodded heads as they made their beds
As Billy-Jean was not their lover
They were soon to discover
Shiny discs of digital delight
And very soon car tape decks were out of sight
But oh so quick the mp3 stick
And iPod player with iTunes click
Took over the world 
And we were lost
As the pace of progress counted the cost
And the Bakelite discs became collector’s items
And the vinyl’s came back as the nightclub dims
And eight track stereo was attracted to rims
And yet we are not done, as no-one has won
But we all seem to have lost
The times that we had
When it was still turning 
At thirty three
And seventy eight


Details | Double Dactyl | |

Ode to Woodstock

Teen angel. Acid queen.
Here comes your lover man.
Heaven and hell. Won’t you
try. Kosmic blues.

Voodoo child. Guinnevere.
I put a spell on you.
And when its over. I
can’t turn you loose.


Details | Ode | |

The River Emerald

No matter how much I try 
I always look back 
At least once a day or may be less or may be more
Oh that allure 
The river Emerald 
The intense green
Reminds me of something I have seen
No more I ask myself why
Obsessed with the infatuation
Pain in motion 
I picture your face 
I lean to kiss 
The thin air 
Melancholic grim
The river I once have seen
Emerald Green


Details | Ode | |

Ode to an acre of land and the building that stands there

Tall and pure oasis 
So much has changed
You remain constant and lovely 
Gentle, morning green grass
Breaks like waves, laps at the shores
Of white, gray, and yellow stones
Towering above me, silent and sure 
Chiseled marble, granite spires, oak
Wrought iron, your scent is old 
A familiar volume I keep close to me
The reflections in your pools
Still glass, not a leaf disturbs 
Irises cling to your walls 
The distance beyond you sways 
Spreading lazily into shade trees 
Sun-tinted pastures and weathered fences 
I walk with reverence, still, after so long
Your ground is my sanctuary
It houses my past 
I am a child forever in front of you


Details | Ode | |

Ode to a friend

Socially retarded and somewhat aloof I never knew what a true friendship was.
Not knowing how to play well with others growing into a young man.
I was 18 years old, washing dishes in that Chinese Restaurant, House of Lypan.
A dude came along, pretty tall and good looking as the girls gave chase.
Giggling and fluttering their eyes, I always wished to be as cool as you, just a taste. 
Then one day, on a visit to see the girls; you stopped in my presence and said, 
“I want to hang with you! What time do you get off work?”
I was baffled, befuddled and a little standoffish,
 for no one ever talked to me, unless to get dishes.
As I remember those many Friday nights, 
beers and tacos, everything was going to be all right.
 Lyrics of Rush and Journey, you knew every word, singing along in your V.W. bug 
like a bird. 
By summer’s end of that infamous summer, a genuine friend I had found; 
but alas, it was over what a bummer. 
I moved away, but came back that fall, our friendship flourished once more.
But as most friendships do, our ways dearly departed. Many years would pass until 
we’d cross each other’s lives again.
This chance quite by fortune, as you knocked on my door one New Year’s Eve’ it 
was ’95 I believe.
That night was a big one; deciding to end this journey called life, too much pain for 
this young man to carry; 
Two kinds of ‘candy’ to help ease the transition
 from mortal to death; a bottle of Jack, for some extra kick.
 I had a loaded 45 gun to help do the deed.
Then came your knock, was about 2 minutes to ‘celebration time’ for they 
say ‘midnight is the bewitching hour.”
I thought to myself, ‘who could this be?’ for I had no more friends, no career or 
family. And yet as if an Angel, you were knocking on my door! I hid what I had, 
ashamed and not wanting a friend to know how much pain I was in. I opened the 
door to those familiar words, ““I want to hang with you! What time you get off 
work?” I remember thinking, "how long has been since I grinned?"
If just for one moment, when you stand before God, all your sins are erased, and a 
moment of cause 
as God says with a Joyous loud voice…”Wait a minute Rick, what’s this? Well I’ll be, 
you’re better than most I can clearly see. I was just perusing over your life, you 
didn’t mention this… but you saved a life!” 
“Ah shucks it was nothin’, just a friend being a friend...I’m sure he’d of done the 
same, if the tables were turned.” And that is why I will and have always called you 
friend….


Details | Personification | |

Ode to Rita and Maddie

Wade through the lake’s water so shallow, A woman & a man hands entwined like a gallow. Wade did she, Wade did he. Above their necks the furious waters rose, Trod they together steps softly with no morose, Spellbound they moved without a care, Deeper and deeper where no one would dare. Trod they further unto the middle they reached, Realized she now an early vow she had breached, No further she could wade, But bitter memories afar refrained they to fade. Drifting by now so weak was she, So clasped them eyelids so all she could see was he, A time came on when a boat roared by, A wave it created ,it washed her eyes. The heady din grown a was peaking, Alas! Her dream was at an end that she was seeking. The fingered band, beacon it began, A time had come her life to regain. Realized, she that moments spent in love, Will fly away now like the dove. Struck her like a bolt to her love away, Will he take me home today? Guessed she by now that the time was over for her space, And on the pathway her love left behind in a cold place. A now thinks she that dwells in another dimension, Poor man left aghast to brood and fate too cruel to mention. Ghastly her act ,in all this land had never been, People shun now the disheartened lover whenever he be rarely seen. Stares does he strangely at the door, For he believes that the path will bring her once more…


Details | Ode | |

Waking up is Dangerous Business

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Killing time, wash the dishes. 
Open the bottle, swallow silence, 
Brainwash the kids, quell defiance. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Break them down, impose the dogmatic
Walk away, consider it emphatic. 
Instill false virtues, pass the world into the hands of the meek. 
Destroy opposition, leave the whole world weak. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Contemplative kids end up in ditches
Passive aggressive logical corruption
Chop the garbage fine, for easy consumption

Or maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s just me..


Details | Ode | |

Pyramid-Maker

From a three-sided angle
Astrological purpose is unmangled
Triangle on top
Square on the bottom
Bright halo around God
Our tears fill His bottle
A Pyramid is a monument to death
A Tabernacle of wealth
Which comes into effect
When there's no longer breath
Is it mourning or celebration in stealth
Beyond Technology
Architectural prophecy
Geometrical philosophy
The place where Kings and Queens lay
Buried on a sun-disk
Dedicated to Day
The final form to decay
Hands form this shape
When they're positioned to pray.


Details | Acrostic | |

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)	
(9.7.10)

Passion
Overwhelmed
Elementary
Thoughts.
Roaming
Youth
Saw
Out,
Under
Pen.

Prolific
Obsession
Engrossed
Time.
Rhythm
Yielded
Structure;
Observation
Unleashed
Power.

Pride
Offered
Extroversion.
Trajectory
Rose,
Yet
Self-doubt
Occurred.
Undercurrent
Pulled.

Pushed
On;
Expanded
Tools;
Read.
Yesterday
Stopped
Overstaying-
Usurping
Present.

Posted
Online.
Enjoy
The
Rhymes
You 
Share
Openly,
Unexpected
Peers.


            I haven't been on this site long, but many of you have already made me feel
welcome, and, moreover, like I belong.  I'm finding myself as inspired as I have ever been
to keep writing, and to keep growing as a writer, thanks to your support, your contests,
and your own original posts.  This is, truly, a special community.  
            Thanks for allowing me to become a part of it.


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to a Grandparent

Today you shower little faces with kisses
Piggy back rides and little messes....
Who notices???

Tomorrow you speak from your infinite wisdom
Your prayer is heard deep from within
Even though we may giggle
We love that you know and love Jesus.

You let me drive your old truck in the pasture
Laughed till you peed when the chair fell backwards
Love freely, laugh often and give generously what you have
Grandparent days are too short but cheerished!

Love those GRandparents!!

Mine are the Grandest of the grands!
***To all the Grandparents out there in the soup pool.


Details | Ode | |

Ode To the Five and Ten

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````


It was old fashioned shopping,....floors were warm planks of wood Where footsteps sounded hallow, and the walls were lined with goods A “5 and 10” cent heaven, … was the friendly Woolworth's Store One would always be surprised, what revolved behind that door How quickly flew the hours of a summer afternoon, to fritter through the clutter, that lay in waiting there Time would disappear upon a dime, with a sweeping of the eyes like the feather dusting of the racks on the shelves of all the years One could hear the clink of metal that nourished the till Where children holding a mother’s hand, could be rewarded for keeping still Little hands, restrained, would tire, leaning over a heart’s desire While a mother would conspire with the clerk of the day For there a child would stand in mute dismay, An indecisive millionaire, a fight of tooth and nail despair With fifty ways they might disburse two whole nickels in a purse A bit of this and a bit that, a stack of crayons, a pair of socks, Some satin ribbons, a new array of small barrettes, to dress the locks Cases of candy, a licorice whip, eyes embracing one after another… Laces or vases, sissors or needles, color climbing color The stacked up bolts of ginghams, worsteds, chintz and serges Trays of trinkets, and souveniers, ‘Evening in Paris’, the bottle was gorgeous All of these things, under a dollar, even a collar for all the pooches To know how it was to sit on a stool, after school Order a sandwich, and sip sodas, always cool and sublime This was how Woolworth’s….a store of the past Would build a memory to last and last….., Forever in time, for just a nickel or a dime... ....how much more could one ask? ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` In Honor of Nancy Jones' Contest: "A Toothful Ode"


Details | Ode | |

An Ode To Youth


I remember when I was young and fair
Slim long legs and soft black hair
My winsome smile and dark green eyes
Caused many a suitor to agonize
When turned away…rejected….forlorn
Wishing he had never been born!
I was always the Queen at any ball
Captivating one and all!

But youth is fleeting…beauty a sham
Just a façade…not who I am
The years fly by…beauty fades
Gone are suitors and accolades
Long in the tooth now…wrinkles persist
This is the world in which I exist
Winter is here…my Springs have flown
I sit here lonely and on my own

In life’s twilight before the sun has set
My thoughts turn to youth and the little coquette
I used to be when youth was King
Anticipating what each day would bring
Dark hair flowing… dancing the night away
Thinking life would always be that way
Oh bird of youth…I miss your song
But in the hush at evensong
I sense that I can hear it still
And in my heart…I always will!

Copyright2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)


Details | Ode | |

as quiet as he ever was

tightrope typography; 
the arbitrary doyens of 
fallacious complexion… 
perpetually soaked 
in gin perked rum… 
inelegantly smeared 
across glass bled eyes… 
purely out of interest… 

the bluish flaccid
moonlit regatta;
whistled and sold…
whistled and cleansed…
privy to atonal acronyms 
and consummated progress…
as quiet as he ever was…
purely out of interest… 
 


Details | Couplet | |

Ode to the Ozarks

Growing up in the Ozarks, for brother, sister and me
meant, for the most part, that we were totally free.

We had freedom to explore, to roam about at will,
there was no one to fear in those Arkansas hills.

We searched for wild plums, grapes and berries,
knowing Mother would make luscious jams and jellies.

We listened for the owls in the stillness of the night,
the call of the whippoorwill, waking us at first light.

The woods were calling, luring us farther each day,
eager to investigate, we did chores without delay.

We gathered mushrooms, springing up after a rain,
Mom would "fry them up," serve lunch fit for a king.

Terrapins and "tumblebugs" were fascinating to watch,
we spent time in stillness observing their steady march.

Wildflowers were abundant, struggling up through rocks,
signaling us that it was time to shed our shoes and socks.

We ran barefoot in summer, our soles tough as leather,
one pair of shoes per year, saved for cold weather.

We climbed over rail fences and through barbed wire too,
where persistent beggar's lice clung to clothes like glue.

We made our own toys, such as the "guide & wheel,"
keeping the wheel rolling took practice and skill.

We swept leaves away, hauled rocks till muscles burned,
built outdoor playhouses, impersonated adults by turn.

Fueling our imaginations and fostering dreams untold,
our play brought us together in a love we'd always hold.

This poem would go on and on if I named every pleasure,
suffice it to say instead we've many memories to treasure


Details | Ode | |

Revisit

Revisit.

I would like to revisit those days,

Of mine younghood,

When I hoped for the best in life,

 

I would like to think of the innocence within,

The hopes of things unknown,

The face held up high,

Onto the mountain above me

 

I saw and heard them,

Saw them leading lives,

I envied I had,

I heard them say those words,

Of how great they were,

Enjoyed every bit of it

 

I wondered when I would hold the mantle,

And run for the battle ,

Of killing pessimism,

Inside my young heart,

 

'Tis on that rainy morning,

When my teeth hurt, 
My head ached,

Like pangs of fire in my soul,

That I entered the hose of solace,

With men dressed in white,

Stethoscopes in hand,

That I made an about-turn,

To save both friend and foe,

 

My dream had began,

I was meant to run,

For the future so bright,

Whether it took a fight

 

Poor I was,

with no pence to mine name,

Rugged regalia under corrugated iron roof,

Shaky desks and whitewashed tin wall,

But I had to make it after all,

 

Days of tears and days of mild happiness,

Seasons of scarce and seasons of plenty,

Moments of pain and moments of gain,

followed the tender heart that was me,

For that future I had to see

 

I stand tall among giants,

Praying to grow one day,

And reach for them moons,

I still have to stay,

awake and alert,

Till that day wilt become my stay

 

Read mine lips the blind,

Sing my song the voiceless,

Walk to the mountaintops , ye the crippled,

Hear my chant ye the deaf,

For your day is here!


Details | Free verse | |

Ode To Yesterdays Past


I confess I rarely take the time
To thank the past for Yesterday
And that I rarely miss a chance
To mumble some complaint: 

How fast you went, 
How little of your time I spent, 
How much I've lost to you, 
How much of you I regret! 

But though you took with you
Todays I wished to keep
I've not forgotten
The many Todays
That Yesterday got me through.

To Yesterdays I raise my glass
A toast to faithful friends of past
Too often overlooked and
Not too often thanked.

So here's to Yesterday -
For never forgetting to take away
The burdens of Today. 


Details | Ode | |

The hunter has been hunted

The nation is thrown into grief.
Our national flag is flying at half mast.
Everyone is wearing a sack cloth.
The dangling axe fell on us.
And the mighty has fallen.
Our hearts are filled with dread,
And our eyes as heavy as lead.
Nigeria, Africa’s number one soccer nation, 
Has been given a run for their money by the Ghanaians.
Culminating our early exit from the African nations cup.
The green and white jersey that we adore,
Have been dragged in the mud.
These are not the Eagles we have been celebrating.
Or are these Eagles suffering from bird flu,
That they cannot glide.
Their spirit  was willing but their  flesh were weak.
When we were young, we were strong,
Now we’ve grown but we are weak.
The reputation that took us  years to build,
Have been destroyed over night.
Because we went to fetch water with a basket.
The baby has been thrown away with the baby water.
The Midas touch we used to have have been used on us,
Because we could not strike while the iron was hot.
The hunter has been hunted.
And we have fallen from  frying pan to fire.
Football has kept us together as a nation for many years.
The Ghanaians has put a knife on what kept us together.
And we have fallen apart.
Once beaten, twice shy.
We hide our faces in shame.
No one is to be blamed.
What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.
Every dog has its own day and it was not our day.
A soldier lives to fight another day.
And never says never because quitters are losers.
The big question is,
Shall our bones rise again?
Or have we withered like the cursed fig tree.
Only the bowel of time will Tell.


Details | Couplet | |

Ode To The Whippoorwill

I remember in the evening's dusk,
The singing breeze in the drying husk;
Along woods edge, the whippoorwill's cry,
So alluring its call angels would sigh.
Yes, I remember the whippoorwill,
But do the angels remember still?
The call that echoed  the end of day
When man would put his labour away;
And meditate with the singing breeze 
And the whippoorwill amongst the trees.
I wonder if angels sigh of choice,
For never now do I hear its voice.


Details | Ode | |

It is time to go

The room is small,an unpleasant odour fills the air
She lays motionless.

Deathly pale, covered in a sheet of cotton
A lock of golden hair strays from a linament bandage.

I clasped her hand, blew on the tiny fingers
breathing life into them.

silence all around, an aspiration offered
I said my goodbye, it is time to go.


Details | Ode | |

Nostalgia

Stillness filled the place
Only the muted shuffle of my slippers
interupted the heavy silence.
The sights, the sounds and the home
battered at my memory, echoed in my mind.
Their faces and smiles 
reflected in the mirror of my brain.
As I stood at the window,
the sight of the pastel blooming flower
in the park made me open the pane.
I heard chirping birds-
that pleasantly stilled my inner turmoil
And disrupted the silence.
An urge hit me to go out
And absorb the blessings that were beginning
to melt my loneliness...
I missed my family back home.
Indeed, there's no place like home.


Details | Crystalline | |

THE GYPSIES'S ODE

The Gypsies's ode is to bright clouds,
to insure safety on long travels.

They grow everything from rich soil,
drawing clear water from a deep well.

Their ascenstors came from the sea,
in many lands they sought liberty.


Details | Ode | |

clay mates

in reminiscence I recall-
the simple things,the fol-de-rol
the somersaults but most of all
I remember gumby!

for every matinee I'd seen
in salad days when I was green
hats off to the silver screen
I remember gumby!

a royal breed of moral code
a loyal steed to share the load
to whom I dedicate this ode...
I still remember gumby!


Details | Ode | |

NIGHT TERRORS

THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU-LOOK OUT!!
They have said that to me ever since I was a wee boy
Lurking under the sheets,in the closet,behind one's back
Especially at night when we are susceptible to  the vivid
imaginations of our peers' taunting ravings of Unmentionable
crawlers of the dark and fright
I would not sleep with the closet door half open to fill these
frightened pupils of what may hide behind
It would scare me out of my adolescent mind,to know that something
SINISTER would come from the shadows and SCARE me to death from behind
Every little boy or girl would be so sensitive to the Boogeymen stories that their 
elders or friends would tell them,how green and deathly evil their eyes can be 
when they look back at you.Is it purely imagination or something of a twisted and 
macabre sense of humor that our brothers and sisters would like to throw back 
at us..for kicks and thrills,Halloween night terrors of unimaginable thrills
When I was younger,the Man with a Forever Grin,would like to ridicule and 
terrorize me with his Devil-may-bite smile and assistant ghosties who would play 
along for the HELL of it.
I may be a grown man now,my friend,but whenever I pop a HALLOWEEN dvd in 
my player,the mind cannot help but recollect the pictures of Night Terrors that 
forever go bump in the night where I live..
I hope the same can be said of those same Vile screamers that terrorize us in 
the first place..give them a taste of their own WICKED medicine