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Sonnet Nostalgia Poems | Sonnet Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Ghost Rider in Vegas

He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.

A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.

His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.

Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.

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A Shade From The Past

Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved, 
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands 
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine

Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes 

A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables. 
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations

Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china 
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely

Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down

Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?

Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14

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A Flower

I love the smell and softness
of a flower as it lay
spread in splendid color 
and sweet aroma stayed
like a virgins' kiss
with inviting touch
that gently opens
to give itself away.

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Released and slowly drifting to the earth,
the leaf departs her tree in mournful grace;
though both will live to see another birth,
none same will be returning in her place.
We meet as always in the space between
the branch's bud and parting leaf stem's end;
a tearful eye, a tugging force unseen
does will the laws reverse, gravity bend.
Enhanced though was the nearly naked tree
by springtime's bloom, her fallen trembling love - 
released to serve another destiny - 
in turn, will be the better than above.

Leaf falls to rest, and in her fading sigh,
she breathes to tree her final sad goodbye.

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Birds of Youth Released

My sweetest cravings, fledglings in a nest,
were held up high; into the air released
by my eager child’s hands.  A world to test
was mine before youth’s wishing time had ceased.

The birds who have come back to visit me
are well-remembered dreams that have come true.
The pleasant yellow finch; the chickadee
and skylark gave me nothing I should rue.

The cardinal would warble in my ear.
I yearned for him, but he did not stay long.
The bluebird too I hoped to always hear.
She comes and goes.  At times I hear her song.

And long forgotten wishes to grow older
are sparrows at my door as life grows colder.

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The Devil Deceived Me

A dreadful memory upon life’s sea
Returns to the days when life was carefree.
A spiritual youth faced the world alone.
Distracted by life and its sinful groan.

I thought that my Savior was by my side.
Whispers from Satan deceived my abide.
There is no God; it is a ruler’s toy.
To make men subservient was the ploy.

Scientists discovered we came from apes.
Questioning God, I ate bananas, grapes.
The devil deceived me with many lies.
Despite my souls whisper and needed cries.

I turned away from God for a short time.
When wisdom returned, life became sublime.

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
October 26, 2010

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SUNDAY DINNER A hillbilly sonnet

        SUNDAY DINNER  (Hillbilly sonnet)
Ma's cookin now, so come and set a spell
and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best
before the settin sun, and who can tell
what's on her stove--but it will meet the test.

Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now?
And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot
for pourin on them taters--I allow
a little more than I should have--so what?!?

The butter it just melts on bread so light
to compliment the vegetables we grow,
now if you know a life that's half as right
as this, you'd better make it yours to know.

   And I will say the grace, to thank God for
   what He has give--so He will give us more.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

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A Garden of Memories

She so lovingly remembers her grandfather here.
Tho many years gone; his memories kept near.
This book he read to her while she sat in his lap.
Taking her on great adventures; imaginations tapped.

Inhaling the aroma of orange blossoms, sweet.
Hungry after each journey, this fruit they would eat.
Filled with such nostalgia it's his scent she misses;
cherry pipe tobacco, also tasted on his kisses.

This has become a tradition for her each year;
happy memories filling her with joy, never tears.
For he is on an adventure in paradise now;
another for her to join him, when she is laid in the ground.

She will read to her grandchildren from this old book one day.
Where precious memories of her in this garden will be made.

July17, 2014
Contest: A poem in Paradise
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst

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Tomorrow the Sun Shineth!

                   "...when power corrupts, poetry cleanses."
                     --John F. Kennedy

A frat asked, will you ever forgive her?
Come! The house has a toast for you tonight!
Now forget—this is not the way you were!
Let’s walk frat, tomorrow will be alright!

Let her go and have her own way each day;
Cleanse the taint with an aromatic bath
Let done be done forever—God molds the clay;
Come! Stand with us—let Him show you the path.

When entreated with her loveliest lies
Spread your wings to the sky with open ears;
Brittle vows and fragile oaths always die
Shallow days, months, years they too disappear.

Upon the rising sun—look to the East,
A royal feast, my frat—that’s the least!

© Joseph, October 22, 2008
© All Rights Reserved

Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is 
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which 
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the 
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; 
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for 
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.


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Eyeful, Handful and Soulful

With stretched brows, while sitting in a corner I look up from my specs just out of love. As she lays food on table and stoops lower Snipes me from grace of her body thereof. With eyes on her I come there as if drugged Feeling tickling smell of the hot soup. Now she puts a sheaf of flowers in a jug And pours in water pressing it in group. I see how the necks and cups get entwined With the curls of her hair and points of crest. See how at each stalk her waist curves defined Budding, abloom in the shape of her breasts. Soup and food lay cold and my body warm As she swirls and whirls her skirt like a storm.
+++ December 15, 2014 Form: Sonnet (Pentameter) First Place win Best of 2014 by Carol Eastman

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Still Standing

Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.

Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.

If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!

I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!

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A sold-out house the excitement grows
Electric stage pumping music builds
He always brings spectacular shows
Awesome concerts since sixty-seven
The master artist his power wields
Sir Elton John, this crowd's in heaven

Power ballads of sweet rock and roll
Piano genius is in his hands
Rhythm and blues performance has soul
Mesmerizing fans for four decades
Three hour marathons for loyal fans
Flamboyant Brit in his famous shades 

A sold-out house the excitement grows
Power ballads of sweet rock and roll!

Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Contest Name: Your Favorite Artist

Sonnet Poem
Written: 3-17-14

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Broken Wind Chimes

Dangling from the tree I can see,
Broken wind chimes that still sing.
They just hang on by a split string.
Sending a harmony of tunes to thee.
Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me.
I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring.
From the tree they will sway when they can swing.
Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee.
Caught in the wind is it’s vibrations.
Carrying signals of great magnitude.
Funneling clouds into new creations.
Bringing air into a brand new mood.
Broken wind chimes can still sing a song,
But their messages are scattered all along.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007

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What Possessed Them

Twelve and twenty black birds baked in a pie
Sounds to me disgusting, would probably make me die
I hate those big blackbirds that pilfer on the street
I can't imagine that they would ever taste sweet

What kind of baker would bake them in a pie
Sounds like he was drinking or probably getting high
I like my pies with fresh fruit or creamy custard
I can't even imagine a pie that's filled with black birds

Sometimes those authors of Mother Goose rhymes
Must have been with Edgar cutting up some lines
Or maybe with that Lewis Carroll smoking opium
For the things they wrote back then were more scary than fun

Living in a shoe, or being Jack so quick
It seems ridiculous to jump over a candlestick. 

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Home to the Ocean


While dreaming of my childhood ocean ties, mem'ry's chandelier sheds light, somewhat eclipsed. The essence of the salt still stings my eyes; the rusty taste of iron hangs on my lips. The ocean’s fragrant spray not quite so fair as I recall; it makes me think of death. Many a moon has set since I was there; destiny speaks to me - my own last breath. The ocean’s soft waves bring dulcet mem’ries, my mama’s silk scarf brushing ‘gainst my face. Turbulent storms always left me on my knees under safe precipice back of our place. It is there my dreams rest as I stand by; it’s there I shall be buried when I die.
3 inspired by nette onclaud's poem from 6/12/11, Even After Twilight Loves We miss you, nette, and long for inspirations from your pen as you have time and energy. Meanwhile we read your poetry and pray for whatever keeps you away from us to end.

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Autumn figure

Oh, you're brilliant, you deciduous darling 
I'm falling for your colorful ways
leaving me tumbling and a'swirling
Autumn, I'm in love with you today

Take me down your sentimental paths
rustling my memories hued into now
and leave them there smelling past
the years I still remember somehow

Rising scents burning smoky flaring
youth revisits my ancient memories
t'was good to recall that time sharing
days running toward life's vagaries

Not knowing our coming appreciation
making it blazing to Autumn's elation

© Goode Guy 2012-11-14

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I Frame

I Frame 

As sure as I stand in the mixed of this garden, 
Glimmering gold falls to the earth by my call. 
Many are great and then some are a bit small. 
I release magnets clutching an obscene pardon. 

It is like balancing a beam that only I will harden. 
I wrap myself into a silver plated resilient shawl. 
Person place and time steadily climb up to maul. 
It’s a give or take rejection expected to turn on. 

One day ye shall see, 
My Moon half drawn, 
Ye see it was all of me. 
Your Sun will be gone. 

Only one Star shall rise up above my name. 
It’s a special place inside my heart I frame! 

®Registered: Ann Rich 2007 

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A Road Less Travelled

On the walls of an old rickety shed
  Are names of sojourners who've passed this way:
Now my wandering boot does older tread
  Where I passed on a long forgotten day!
Journey back to the mud lakes of mangrove
  Drinking tall beer, plunging its tidal churn
Where beneath the waves the taniwha rove,
  And the flight squadron aerodrome lights burn.
On turning flood are cold billowy depths
  With swirling dark eddies bottled and stoned:
In idle times I climbed those ocean steps
  Contrived and lonely - but rarely alone!
In my salty muse turns the clock and key
Back to these silent echoes by the sea.


That road was called Attwood Road, which
Led to Pare' Wharf in Auckland, New Zealand.
Alas, I knew it well!
Taniwha: pronounced...tan-e-fa: is a mythical 
Creature that lives in the sea.

December 1991

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    CIL MAOLCHEADAIR   (Kilmalkedar)
On such an Irish spring and drizzle morn,
she wandered through the graveyard, looking for
the Celtic dream from which her past was born,
and every sight brought her to wanting more;

she dreamt her roots from carvings on a stone
as if she understood each chip as real,
passed down to only her, and her alone,
from pagan worship she could almost feel;

and she could bundle them within her mind
to share with Pennsylvania kith and kin,
perhaps the magic, if still there to find,
would be an understanding where they've been;

and she will burn her candles every night,
hoping Kilmalkedar will make it right.
       ©  ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Times Three

You are but a noun do you know?
Inside of you lie me, myself, and I.
Residing in light of your naked eye,
This is how divine seeds sow a row.
Sown high or low,
So do not be shy.
And do not sigh.
And never, let go.
Orient yourself times three,
To person place and time!
You are rooted like a tree,
And it is secured to climb!
Who is that light form living inside of you?
And who is that silent one that you talk to?
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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sonnet 2013

I raised my pen in hope of a new thought,
When an idea struck me much joy it brought,
As a sonnet i wish to carry forth,
In dark some night, it shines bright as a torch;

If only love could be a fairytale, 
On a beautiful yacht we both would sail,
Under the starry heavens filled with stars,
Deep in thoughts thinking about how you are;

I turn to you and gaze into your eyes, 
To know that love is not another lie,
A sonnet i completed with much ease,
I felt relieve as love would never cease...

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The Real Monsters

double Chaney Lugosi and Karloff
those four are the most known monsters all time
and each monster they portrayed had spinoff
I grew up with those monsters on prime time

my mother saw them in the theatres
I saw them years later on the tv
the Cheneys’ monsters hasn’t been better
today the classic monsters hard to see

those monsters like poetry my fine wine
my mother enjoyed Dracula the most
Abbott and Costello met Frankenstein
all the monsters today are way to gross

Lon didn’t want his son to follow him
the wolfman out lived his father’s phantom

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My Super Sonnet

April 28, 2010

My Super Sonnet

Multiple overwhelming thoughts trample upon me in a wild way.
Stunned as well as in awe I am compelled to rise upon my own.
So then I thought no possible way, I will have to be overthrown.
Yes, I definitely have to be thrillistically creative every single day.
Now I am living it and now I know excellence so longer I stay.
Yeah, I do have it going on and got it all nailed to a white stone.
You see, now it is on! I’m sizzling hot up on my game full-blown.
Yes, yes, yes, we are on some kind of fire would you like to play?

I am going to think about you on this full moon.
Maybe you have dug yourself into a cozy grave.
Maybe you like the way I situate myself so soon.
Maybe its resistible greed or I’m just that brave!
Look! I’m feeling you out bringing you my super sonnet, a tat for tit.
Indeed! I’m your full spread of Par-Kay or Blue Bonnet, I’m up on it!

® Registered: Ann Rich 2010

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When You Left

When you left, the lights faded
The blue skies turned grey
When you left, my emotions died
I thought I’d never survive that day
When you felt the curtains closed
And the stage faded to black
When you left, life strangled itself
And hope hid between heartbreak and despair
When you left, every image blurred.

But that spark remained alight
A tiny reminder of life’s resurrection
The sky turning back to blue
The reopening of the curtains to a lighted stage
A possibility, a tiny jest of instinct
In my mind I met you halfway
But my heart held back astride
For when you left, it died.

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No not the portrait when you were younger, my dear
Just a Polaroid snapshot at the beach that year
No earrings, no make-up, your hair was a mess
("So what? Got a problem? I couldn't care less!")
Brother-in-law behind you, muggin' like a fool
Our nephew beside him, tryin' to look cool
You had a little patch of sand on your chin
But oh, what a smile; what a wide, joyful grin!
Living that moment, on a rollicking high
Complete in the present, no when and no why

(Now you're tucked away safe in our own special place
So you'll always stay with me when I tremble and ache
Sometimes I unfold you when I miss you too much
Press you tight to my forehead and weep at your touch)

Details | Sonnet | |



Some unexpected moments in life,
As and when come to you,
May not essentially put you to strife,
Yet nostalgic feelings come through,

Even if situation is crystal clear,
The decision you take in itself is loud,
And is sure to add a cheerful steer,
Yet bittersweet feelings don't let you proud,

Fighting within myself as I stay aloof,
Taking hard steps is a pondering mind,
Right or wrong will need no proof,
Yet listening to heart is always kind,

A good head for thought    you must plea,
Nostalgia isn't what it used to be !

August 23rd, 2014

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I do not know how big they are,
But I can see them twinkle from afar.
Their shape to me is yet unknown,
Still I can see them where ever I go.

Way high up there in the night sky,
Farther than any bird could ever fly.
"How did they get so far away,?"or
"Will they fall down to earth someday?"

When I look through my window late at night,
I stare at those stars,so beautiful and bright.
One day I know there won't be any cars,
But when I look up there will always be stars 

Quentin Alexander Sands

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Flushed and bent, she mashes their turnips

with hands that once were soft, manicured,

while steam rises like memories, obscuring

her pickled kitchen. Beyond glass, fall nips

at the rose bush, takes its last bloom. Music

wanders from the now crowded front parlor,

the small, polished room that becomes duller
each year, chintz aging, wood showing nicks.

The tune bids; she recalls a long ago harvest

when a boy blushed as he asked her to dance

at the fair. The rhapsody and a new romance

boldly twirled her champagne chiffon dress.

Suddenly, she’s back on that floor, love swept,

for her feet never forgot those long ago steps. 

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A King's Mountain

February 12, 2011

A King's Mountain

A King's Mountain He mounts up under his branded feet.
Mass in size He is hallow by a grandstand He is to you,
But never is He in lieu, so many clues cost one tabboo.
Blown to boredom bereaved He hue's me a pure heart beat. 

Shaking or faking Him out I scram to find my own Grand seat.
Surrounded from East to West there is North and South to do.
Blending my flames in hot Summer winds I baked a cake or two.
I'm like self-rising ready to bake surfing up fielders wheat.

A King's Mountain means Look-Out,
Soak it up and suck it all in!
A Hot sizzling day for a Cook-Out?
A King mounted has a Big bin.

He will draw your naked breath in and mount you to His top.
Sprinkling you with honey dew suckling up for more sip sop.

(R) Registered: Ann Rich 2011

04:43:21 AM EST -5

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Cafe Musings

Whenever I sit alone, in a most crowded cafe I reminiscence and sink into nostalgia How painful is the past and how regretful is my gaffe Love, knocking on my doors, was sent to a land colder than Narnia Young was my soul, younger than a new born Love and life was for me, still to be explored Unreasonable, I pushed love away and became all forlorn Yet, only I knew how much his soul I adored Sitting all alone at an empty table I wish he was here, by my side Having forgiven my temper, so unstable Having seen through the demands hidden by my pride And thus I sit alone, take out my diary and write of my whims I hope, they shall be, like William's, brought out of that poor light, so dim!
Anoucheka Gangabissoon Contest : Cafe Musings 9 February 2014

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Celestial Mother

Once great always great I say to you.
Upside down or right side up you be.
Once upon a time and a time once was she.
Gathering the universe and shining a Star or two.
Then one day She shot down to Earth out of the blue.
She gathered Her crops and made circles wide and free.
She made them so big the whole of the world could see.
She took the Stars the Sun and Moon making them new.
She shined talents never quite seen.
Amazing and sparkling from up above,
She is the smartest thing ever so keen.
She is abundant in spreading Her love.
She is our Celestial Mother in Heaven,
Separated by the empty shells of leaven!
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2007

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We Still Laugh About It Today

When she walked she had a way of swaying her hips
Red-haired and freckled with Carly Simon lips
Hormones raging at twelve and she was fourteen
To this boy she looked like a magazine queen
"Why you gotta-go?" she pouts, "What's the big rush?"
Have you ever kissed a girl?" she asked with a blush
'Sh-sh-sure I've kissed girls, a whole bunch!', I lied
"My mama's still home so we better go hide"

Guiding sweaty hands to a hot laundry room
(Faint scent of hairspray, a wisp of perfume)
She reached out soft fingers and tickled my cheeks
Candy lipstick I tasted; she whispered "You're sweet"

...This sonnet concludes with an ironic twister
I got my first kiss from my future step-sister

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The Embracing

I cut through tedious chit-chat,
Null knick-knacks!
Zap Idiotic whacks!
I tip toe tapping atop pitters pat.
I’m your best bet seated where you once sat.
Smearing out your tad-bit lacks,
Running them out by the packs,
I tip my hat fancying you purr like my fat-cat.

Up and away my hands shall uplift weights like you.
In and out of reality I’ll take you with me everywhere.
If only you knew how well I’m too do getting through.
Do you think one day to obtain me to be eh unaware?

Personally, I’d charge a big fat whacked out idiotic fee for the likes of thee,
I’m declared as freely expressing many pleasures for the embracing of me.

® Registered: 2010 Ann Rich

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Dirty Birdies

They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.

They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.

I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.

Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.

As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned 
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...

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A Hayride Through Time

Tonight we sit upon these bales of hay
and visit characters who've long been dead.
The research brought them life, allowed a say
in how their history would then be said.

Tonight, you came to hear their story told.
A hayride through the graves, you say, how odd,
but actors popped up here and there, so bold
and brought them back as by an act of God.

So come, and lend your ear to how they fared
upon the earth when younger days were here,
the struggles and the joys they must have shared,
and how they dealt with death and conquered fear.

Perhaps tonight, we catch a glimpse of worth
from tales of those who lie beneath this earth.

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One Seed

I planted a seed and it grew and grew.
It grew so high touching a cloudy sky.
With one main branch it sprouted high.
I cut it down telling myself I’m through.
But that main branch stayed so true.
I started watering daily at noon nigh.
And I would always wave good bye.
I can’t even tell you the birds it drew.
That branch was awesome.
Every day a new leaf to see.
Always a flowering blossom.
New blooms would always be.
It is amazing at what one seed can do.
Even those seeds lying inside of you.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Staff of Life

How strangely life can turn around, reverse itself, and then come back again I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed He would wink at me, and beckon me, while the moon and stars peeked in By kitchen light, we would eat a bite..., a “midnight snack”, he said He would lift me up, and from the counter top, I'd watch him tear the bread The staff of life, a simple thing, these two small bowls of wheat My Dad and I, the broken bread, with milk on top, or cream instead A bit of sugar or honey dripped, to make it slightly sweet * * * * Such a little thing, so comforting, and it helped us both to sleep…. While… in my care, his final years…especially at the end He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he could eat Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, …….and we would talk of then I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon some in The things in life turn inside out, somehow come back again
_________________________ For the Contest sponsored by Regina Riddle "Intimate Relationship"

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If by Chance we Meet

What if by chance we meet, embrace once more,
And to that place we go where no one sees
Or even knows, we quietly close the door
And shut away the winter’s cooling breeze.

The scent of hyacinths still fills the hall
And welcomes us with memories of where
We both said our goodbyes and we’ll recall
Unspoken words left hanging in the air

But if we meet, my heart will surely sing
For what we were and what we might have been
When to this empty room, my love, you’ll bring
Bouquets of flowers fresh and newly green

If in this chance encounter, you are true,
We may find love returns, from where it flew

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Blue Range

On Diego Martin lowlands time passes
  Slowly with such dear fancy not yet dimmed:
Licking the sticky raw cane molasses,
  The pulp and juice of the plump tamarind.
Eating pomerac and julie mango,
  Toolum and sugar cake fast disappear!
Guava and sugar apple sweet for so -
  Sapodilla, soup sop, and pommecythere...
And in the fields to the tanagers' trill,
  Digging for topitambo in long grass:
Back in the Blue Range our basket to fill
  With Asis's wide toothless grin and cutlass.
These are the fruits of a time unmistook
When the old budding trees of youth are shook.


Blue Range was my mother's family stud 
farm when I was a child in Diego Martin 
On the island of Trinidad in the West Indies.

May 1996

Details | Sonnet | |

Me, One Alone

I stood staring at the moon
I thought about a night so long ago
What happened I shall never know
It was over much too soon
When he walked into the room
My love for her inside did flow
What could I do my love to show
He smiled and she did swoon
What happend next how shall I tell
For is caused my heart begin to swell

Eternal love we did vow
Our life had just begun
That was then and this is now
I am me, one alone

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Matted Layers

I came from behind and my God at what I saw.
I was astonished and in disbelief seen by you.
I counted exact minutes with the seconds too.
But I stood there intact with no lines to draw.
There are many versions of Grace Verse’s law.
So I read through them one by one until blue.
So I picked up the torch it was all I could do.
I was a flame burning stoked in complete awe.
I gave glory to the Sun and Moon,
I exalted a few Stars along my way.
I even rode in on a cloud at noon,
It was a bright beautiful blessed day.
But there were matted layers of deception,
I guess you can only imagine my reception.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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The Forgotten Two

Dracula Wolfman Frankenstein we know
but there’s two other monsters rarely seen
they never been stars like Larry and Moe
but they did make it to the big screen

the Invisible Man we’ll never see
creature from the Black Lagoon the other
and for one thing their movies were not free
I would watch those movies with my mother

so next time you’re talking of the monsters
don’t forget the creature along with man
the Invisible Man may drive you bonkers
but the other creature will kill a man

wrote a poem of monsters a while back
they were forgotten the Lagoon was black

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Four Winds of Heaven

My wind to the East you are my least.
My wind to the West you are the test.
Each and every day you are your best.
Each and every day you battle a beast.
My wind to the South you are a feast.
My wind to the North you are a crest.
Each and every day you never do rest.
Each and every day a new life leased.
The Sun makes your air.
The Moon is your guide.
Stars are always up there.
All of you are my pride.
Each of you I will easily leaven.
You are my four winds of heaven.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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a nice view

A Nice View 
My shed is full of stuff I´m not using and 
should, when get around to it, throw on
a skip. In the corner there is a golf bag
full of rusty clubs, a reminder of the days
when I genuinely tried to be middle class,
a family of mice live there now, their 
entrance is a hole in the bottom of the bag.
They are safe there and probably snug. 
On the left side of the bay in Cascais, there
used to be green slopes, now they are full 
of buildings facing the sea. Everyone likes 
to live where beauty is, nice view and green
slopes; they build houses there and roads. 
Just more golf bags far from the greens...    

Details | Sonnet | |

Lost in wraps of time

Lost in the wraps of time, I'm alone, walking
waiting for the bliss,to myself, I'm talking

words fade off ,as they come
uncertainties make me stun

To think about a better tomorrow
and leave behind all sorrow

but past haunts me again
hurting ,making me lame

With no ray of hope in vision 
lies my future in confusion

Aloof from the world I move on 
sticking to my love and hold on

For I believe I'm destined, to shine
though I'm lost in the wraps of time.

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Shall I compare thee to a winters morn

Shall I compare thee to a winter’s morn?
Thou art more frigid and thou cometh too late.
Rough winds do shake the branches of the thorn,
And winter’s sun hath all too long to wait. 

Sometimes too bright the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed
By cloud and wind and snow amidst the pines,
Or chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed. 

But thy eternal chill shall never fade
Nor lose possession of that icy grace;
Thou’rt dead at heart, but death has been delayed
But memories shall never yet erase

So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives love, but now I say good-bye.

Details | Sonnet | |



My mornings smiled in the faint gleam of the moon,
while we sat together and held our soon,
the new water is cold but colder was my hand,
and the passion of your palms probed them in the sand,
you looked into my eyes and told me all about you,
the night slowly faded and the sky turned blue,
I hesitated to tell: oh! your gracious eyes true,
and I confessed the only girl I loved was you!

But those days were short,you spurned me through,
Oh! I rained to sow,prosperity and then flooded you!
Yet I am patient - patient like the drops of rain to wet,
counting-cherishing-concoting,the pattering on my breath!
The clouds if you bear me,there are volumes to share,
There will be rain again - no flood when we are together!!

Details | Sonnet | |

Old Blue-tick Hound

Damn old worthless dog. How lazy he lies 
in shade on my porch, by my rocking-chair.
Good but for flea food or a perch for flies
too old to bark at a wild hog or hare.
He’s fast asleep with one half open eye
as if to protect me, like he still could.
His old body sore and I know that I
(for his old age) must put him down for good.

Like a thank you for nothing, same as a 
gentle pat on the head. A gift to guard 
him from pain, to cut short his days so they
won’t be his burden. My sympathy charred
and heart destroyed, to give my old pal this
reward, this kindness, this murderous kiss.

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Ramblings of Home

Far I have travelled to a distant star
  Over land and sea upon the two isles:
To eat sweet guava jelly from a jar
  And fill of its red rum, and all its guiles!
To walk the old sands and not feel it strange
  And gaze on peaks and wonders for my sake:
El Cerro del Aripo on the Range
  To the Devil's Woodyard and black Pitch Lake.
In calm wind and sail out of Scotland Bay,
  Iguana hunt in woods of Gasparee...
And deep spear fishing when night becomes day
  Beyond Monos and Chacachacare.
Hear the sounds - the calypso drums of steel -
The rhythms in the heartbeat that you feel.


Trinidad & Tobago

September 1996

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Emptiness no one can see

The cobweb of time has bound me over again
making me feel i have gone insane 
The emptiness around me pierces through
as if asking me to reach you 
peace is no where to be found near 
and all i can find is a drop of tear
rolling out of my eyes one by one
thinking what else could i have done
to make me feel better and calm
and recover from the nature's charm
Deep inside me burns a feeling
a void that makes me sing
The void  created inside me
the emptiness  no one can see

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A Will

The birds fly free up in the sky.
Why oh why can it not be me?
Why can’t I just soar and be.
Why can’t I fly above so high?
My spirit guides me as I sigh.
My soul wills me to be free.
Where is this highest decree?
This is why I hear doves cry.
I open a seal,
Carry a smile.
All is so real.
I last a mile.
Inside of me there is a will.
This is why I can’t sit still.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Another World

Where do we go when we go away?
And why is it that we have to leave?
What happened to Adam and to Eve?
Where is the greatest scale to weigh?
Where do we go when we want to stay?
What about this great big world weave?
What about you what do you believe?
So what dues do we have left to pay?
Why me?
Why you?
I can see?
You do to!
I think we’ve all been twirled,
All the way into another world!
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Granted and Given

It is all in the Stars if you look hard enough.
There is always the morning Star twinkling.
And then there is the evening Star blinking.
And then there are layered clouds in a fluff.
Then there is the Sun and Moon and stuff.
Sometimes it looks like the Moons winking.
Sometimes it looks like the Sun is thinking.
Makes me wonder if their day can be rough!
What a wondrous world I live in.
What balance I live by every day.
My life must be granted and given.
So no wonder I take time to pray.
It is granted and given each day just to be me.
Just look up once a day and this you can see.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |

Madness of the Guilty Drunk.

I dabble in that which seeks the night in false bitter screams,
For in this wandering fading grip I hold onto dreams.
Some say I am a bit insane in fortitudes embrace,
Yet I drink the fire to blind my eyes from that devil’s face.
I invite you all to sit down and witness all the beasts,
Have a sip, pour a glass, it is the window to the feast.
Don’t look at me with judging eyes until you down the glass,
For things will clear, come to light, when held in truths bitter grasp.
I dabble in that which seeks the night in false bitter screams,
I down the drink, I hold the pint, and whisper to the dreams.
And now I sway, glass in hand, tell tells of lost battles won,
The heavy heart, the solemn tears brought forth by glasses done.
The eyes grow weary, the hands shake, the slurring songs are stilled,
Still I reach for the devil’s fire as the mug is refilled.

Details | Sonnet | |


Behold the shout of "SEA!" Where ends the land
  Down Manzanilla way on windward shore:
On coconut road, on ribbons of sand,
  Where soon enough we'd be at Cocal's door.
On wet beachcomber footprint I've stood,
  The Coco Lilly and beach flowers I've smelled:
And miles of castaway island driftwood
  That my Mother's full and cradled arms held!
At harvest catch depth in wonder glancing
  Village longnets reel mackerel, kingfish, shark...
Till yonder watch of fireflies dancing
  And bright glowing pitch-oil lamps after dark.
Long into the night the oil rig flames burn,
And, like the chip-chip, I too will return.


Trinidad and Tobago

January 199

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You're More

You're more to me than the stars in the sky.
I'd give up the sight of them in order to keep you forever.
You're more than the lyrics that make my favorite song.
I'd give back the words in order to hear your voice.
You're more to me than all the music in the world.
I'll never dance to the beat of any drum but yours.
You're more than any sunset I've ever seen.
I'd give up all the days if I couldn't hold you through the night.
You're more than all the hugs I've ever recieved.
I'd give them all back just to hold your hand.
You're more to me than any life upon this Earth.
I'd gibve my own to keep you safe from any harm.
You're more to me than anything else I've ever known, my entire life.
This is why you have my heart to hold, and keep until the end of time.

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There was an AM station from years ago. I tuned in at night to hear my radio. Their tower was based in Windsor, Ontario. They would let the best of Canadian artists flow. During the day, it was a station I could never hear. Another entity on the same frequency was broadcasting near. When 8PM rolled around, that broadcaster went off the air. The Canadian station took over from there. I always heard the latest sounds from the Guess Who. They also had the Stampeders and the Bells too. One day, the broadcasts would disappear. Their music and messages I could no longer hear. That Canadian transmitter’s call letters were CKLW. Like many other AM locations, they bid adieu.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Battle Within

Love and trust the battle within,
One of armor and one of cloth,
Both equal in strength and at a great loss.
Cornered by time to live again,
A moment to go back to where you have been!
The principles of pleasure intrude on a pleasant dream.
Love and trust the battle within shouts its damning scream!
One of armor, one of cloth and both are determined to rise again.

Conflict and pressure begin to adhere to this occasion.
One second to catch your thoughts of stop, go, or yield?
Beset by these restless conflicts your need to release introduces itself.
Provoked to endure a graceful truce the weak one falls to submission.
Love and trust the battle within proclaims the very same guild.
One of armor, one of cloth, and both equal with great strength in this world that we build

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A dance of death, a greedy chore
     Trapped inside these creature comforts;
A chance of life may become a bore
     Outside this pleasantly right hurt.
But, soft and fair, though, of the skin,
     In flesh a silent malice lies
Dormant, unnoticed, not used in
     Context. Still, touch me as day dies.
And you, a ghost I cannot touch
     By reaching out to Heart or mind,
Caught up in this sweetly rush-
     Jaded: Nothing else left to find.
Superfluous and flushed, we breath
In gusts, unable to be free.

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Randomly Selected

I randomly selected you for a treat.
A delightful surprise for the meek.
It is my breaths of large you seek.
You discovered your fate of feat.
I brought you to a judgment seat.
And books of life you took a peek.
Then in heaven you found the leak.
Then the drums rolled and they beat.
You were in awe to say the least.
So was I in looking at your face.
It is to the west as it is to the east.
But definitely a different place.
Many were absolutely ejected and rejected,
But you my dear were randomly selected.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Dilated Night

when the eternal night blessed our kiss 
within deep trenches of beauty we held
you left the sorrowful night with a hiss,
shall forever be a treasure withheld
a sheer memory of human nature
wondrous night that is forever praised
but thoughts like these tend to become glaciers
as that day becomes a living record
of that night your lips touched upon mine
but with memories,  some float till the end
under the swinging lamp of frozen time
with me, you remain forever adored
with your ruby fire lips and gold hair
in the twilight night we once shared

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To Ngaruawahia on music trail,
  So tales of the great unwashed had begun!
On stage and camp upon green hill and dale
  Where "The Enz" the sky lit a red flare gun.
In a tent on the hill highest mounted
  Pitched our fold under the bright starry shards:
And numbered were more than can be counted 
  Hippies! Gypsies! Freaks! And crazy bastards!
Where the rivers bathed in naked splendour
  And the logs we lit did the sun outlast!
Where the weekend became one long bender
  And music shattered the peace in its blast.
For three long days to Sweetwaters I went -
For three manic days I lurched to my tent.


Sweetwaters was a 3 day music festival 
I attended in New Zealand in the summers
Of 1980 - 1982.
The Enz is short for Split Enz - a NZ band with
The Finn brothers. One brother went on to
Form Crowded House.

November 2009

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At Least We're Not Letting Our Pheromones Go To Waste

Twist around the rim, a drunken ballerina
   Of unsorts, elbow deep in catastrophic
Breakings-perfected works of fiction shatter a
   Curtain call. Lasting shards of what I can't stop; it
Burrows into my flesh, becoming hybred with
   Misery. I would choose such over infamy
Though difficult to resist omnipotent kiss
   It's comfortable the way it is: Destroying me.
A badly broken code of strangled DNA
   Foxtrots with weighty pheromones boxed in a high
And void of selfless speakings, whispers yet to say-
   The music stopped some time ago to hear deep sighs
Or heartfelt hymns by the nonbelievers;
Symphonies strangled into the night, far deeper

"At Least We're Not Letting Our Pheromones Go To Waste"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad

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Your Face Behind The Glass

In a dream last night I was in a city under the stars
I was walking down the street and you were driving in your car
You were on your way to somewhere and I was looking for a bar

You hit me as I was walking down the road
I threw my hands down on the hood to lessen the load
Then I saw that it was your face behind the glass
As I maneuvered around the car and passed

You never once looked up or acknowledged me
I could only assume that you never even saw me

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Letting Go

It is the hardest lesson I ever had to learn.
Emptying myself to breathe my own air,
I went through life with nothing to spare.
My place had been set and was hard to earn.
In my heart it was for you I yearn.
Times were rough and never fair.
All along only I came to really care.
In my soul this began a fire to burn.
You let me down,
Broke my heart,
Made me frown,
Ripped me apart,
Shattered into a million zillion pieces,
I’m letting go of my lifetime of leases.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Breath Away

Visual cacophonies: I witness
     Them, blithe and impaired-smouldering like a 
 Cigarette. Phoenix, to rise from ashes
     Is irrelevance; flame is far from a
Necessity to warmth, though I am no
     Prometheus with bruises of the mind.
It has wavered too long, taken too slow
     To only find it has been wasted time
(And the time peices are all unfriendly here).
     They, unreliable and tepid, take
The breath away from me-it idles there,
     Steaming from exposure, cursed and fake.
There lacks a subtle hinting waif to speak
Of all unglories of a Heart that's weak.

"Breath Away"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad

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Winged wheels ring out rugged melodies along winding ways Ripened rays on a new togetherness rise and fall, fall and rise – bright and clear. Clear as miraged ecstasy, drifting unbound over air – seem so far, yet so near, Ye winds of Thul, O blow far away, all the past in invisible haze. A thousand secrets from the spins of Time, the winds from Thul have erased And like the first look at a golden honeybee, with eagerness they stare. In the hum of scorching desert blasts, heed a little to what message they bear And in the chime of little camel bells, listen little ear to what they say: They bring songs from home, beyond the hills, melody of a baby’s cries, Fathers and children prancing merrily beneath the stars, round the fire ringing. Sounds dispelling loneliness chain angels’ harps from crystal skies, And past a hundred camel carts, I hear, a pair of anklets ringing. Whispering wheels and happy heart take me far from uncared sighs, Towards my home, O blessed Thul, my reluctant thoughts smile lingering.

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Dawns another early spring day:
Garden is frozen on stillness’ edge,
Door crackles open as ice strips away,
White lawn,  white branches,  white hedge.

Warm breath clouds in front of face;
Don’t want  footsteps to spoil
Cold freshness filling this tiny place
And perfection painted at night on soil.

Silent  snow swirls all around  -
Saskatchewan spring in my garden small.
Chill air nips new shoots on the ground,
Hidden behind my hedge  and wall.

        Beyond the hedge,  a  thousand miles white,
        The  prairies awaken from the night.

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Reminiscent Heart

There's a flower revival beyond my window pane,
Where velvet petals of fragrant rose remains.
Spring renewal spurns the colder freeze,
And casts love upon a floral breeze.

Pixies steal ribbons from a maiden’s room,
So her long loose tendrils catch nature’s bloom.
A green carpet of grass stretches beneath her feet,
While her beau makes her toes curl with kisses so sweet.

She pretends the world's a magic wonderland,
And fairies sprinkle dust to make love so grand.
Ah, for the splendor of this season in time,
When the youth feel giddy, but strong in their prime!

Oh! I long for those days when I was young,
And danced with pixies ’cause Spring had sprung.

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Lord hangs onto me some serious mercy now, 
I am aimed and directed aligned and straight. 
Be it so or be it may I am that God given trait. 
You will never once have to reveal for me how. 
I tell the truth all I have to say about it is Wow! 
If this isn’t just downright genius then it’s great. 
I can only imagine what all this will soon create. 
I must say for all this I shall indeed bend to bow. 
A-men to every single one of you! 
And praise your one supreme Lord! 
You know, I knew I always knew! 
My God, I am your flaming sword! 
You know Lord; you can do whatever you want with that locust, 
But I’m going to polish up on this sword keeping myself focused! 
® Registered: Ann Rich   2009

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A Record Traces Ev'ry Year

a kyrielle sonnet

Our lighthouse casts its light to guide;
a role it plays in fam'ly pride.
Through many times of gath'ring near,
a record traces ev'ry year. 

In wedding dress up Trundle's stairs,
our lens first caught it unawares.
Our fam'ly's seen through photos here,
a record traces ev'ry year.

The cam'ra toiled as fam'ly grew
preserving mem'ries we pursue.
Our albums shine like chandeliers,
a record traces ev'ry year.

Our lighthouse casts its light to guide
a record traces ev'ry year.

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But soft! What light breaks through windshield yonder?
It is Mickey D’s.
Shall I stop, I ponder,
or shall not stopping be my destiny?

Those bronzed french fries,
full of transfat.
Their business will die,
if they get rid of that.

Oh! Those golden arches 
signify my next meal.
So what do I care of the starches?
I say, I’m getting a Happy Meal.

So if I’m sitting, eating with joy,
don’t mess with me, or my toy.

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Far from the west came a man,
And me in the Indian Sands',
Making a friendship tight - 
It was freddy who met me in the night.

The month of October, the weeks of November,
The bond flew more slender -
Thou left in the month of January;
Thy memories make me sorry!

Oh thy gossips cheered me all;
Like the beauty of an ever lasting waterfall,
Thy music rings in my ears
Resulting in hot brimming tears .
your memory is as fresh in my mind - 
Giving me hope to remember thine!!

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Irene was the American girl,
the only pretty one I should have based my romantic story on;
and that story is still unwritten...
not having been able to forget the rejection that turned into pain. 
Two bright and respectful kids we were,
growing up with Bob Dylan's intellectual poetry,
but mine was the waltz of a beautiful song...
with the words of the truest love I had ever written.
Brown and blue eyes would have made green eyes,
blonde and brown hair would have made auburn hair;
nothing but the handsomest boy or even the prettiest girl...
for us to love and proudly share for many happy years ahead. 

But who has been your darling since then?
Have you found tenderness in that man? 

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Desert Moon

Created, desolated, resurrected and even in reverse, 

You are a transformation under a Sun drenched day. 

Beckoned or heralded you climb above a beaming ray, 

Bristles of your hair shall glow and many are perverse. 


Shuffled, hurdled, corner-stoned and even immerse, 

You are a salvation upon a Mountain leading a way. 

Stripped or naked you run below an endless cache, 

Light inside of you shall outpour so all will disperse. 


The collectors shall find, 

Lost on a course in time, 

Many stranded or behind, 

Many with no unjust crime! 


Jacked up, a ripped off, a maniac or just downright a true blue loon, 

Still remaining is a red flaming shield up under a sacred desert Moon. 


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Middle age men, look in this clear mirror
and spot those gray strands of hair:
they may seem ugly, but they bring wisdom;
look again, you are still vibrant,
and accomplish more than those who won't dare:
tell them to live as you have... 

Lines on these foreheads are the furrows that
make us so conscious of our existence,
and death is not far from life's painful truth;
we think of the future as a time yet to come,
but we live it this very moment...not realizing it:  
and with spirit and courage, we race to stay alive...

Each year another gray hair is added to our increasing age;
can we accept mortality, and not reject discontent and rage? 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Welcome to Your Wife

If I were you for a day and you were me?
Could you love me more than I love you?
Would I love you more each day and be new?
Will the Sun shine bright in our eyes to see?
When will the Moon glow and lead our way to be?
When will the Stars shine bright by just us two?
Why does the dust give up its spurs on the dew?
Why are the doors locked with only one master key?
Welcome to my life,
Welcome to my home,
Welcome to your wife.
Welcome to this dome.
Welcome to the Sunrise this day in the light,
And welcome to the Sunset on this lovely night!
© Copyright: Ann Rich    2006

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Cosmic Conscience

I became aware of you well over a decade ago.
Every moment of every day I swept you away.
Lo and Behold, I put my own day into dismay.
I ‘m buried in the core of you, and I mean low.

Good or bad happy or sad, you I’d proudly bestow.
Since your arrival, seems like my life is on display.
It’s still the same soups same pots running astray!
Sometimes in thwarted bits so I left them in whoa!

Seems they are all afflicted with conflicting wits.
Some thoughts prevail up above their fixed form.
Most exhibit zero appeal and are disruptive twits.
I might as well add you stirred up a mighty storm!

I might also add that most appeared as not kept and utterly sheer nonsense.
So I’m rising up above your hosted shadows into ultimate cosmic conscience.


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Parallel Universe

It’s a great day,
Just you and me,
The Sun I can see,
But you’re in the way!
I have lots to say,
Places I need to be,
Like the roaring sea,
But it’s turned to clay!
We walk and we sing.
With jumps and skips,
With the joy we bring,
But we are two ships.
It’s all transverse,
In a parallel universe!

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The Time Being

Just for now, I will hold my own.
I am carried away into a domain.
Plenty of room minus that chain,
It is here that I will be full-grown.
It is here I will not be windblown.
I’ve nothing to lose and all to gain.
I am minus all pleasures of a pain.
I am where seeds are not yet sown.
Just for the day,
And for the night,
I’ll be on my way,
And out of sight.
For the time being, I am just me,
Homeward bound, set to be free.
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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Good Times

No one can justify the words of fools
When ranting loud about the good old times:
The long ago without the equal climbs
Or access to the bin of workers tools,
That built the bridges that divided schools,
Where one earned dollars but the other dimes;
The former wrote laws the latter wrote crimes
Forsaking order, structure, method, rules.
But we must take the good and bad times past,
And have the brightest hope and darkest doubt,
That “us” and “we” with “them” and “they” can last;
The high and low, truth and lie, in and out, 
Of hate and love, scared and brave, small and vast;
Build a past that gives future fools more clout.  

Details | Sonnet | |

Firelight glinted off the dark metal

The glass of those large blue eyes cooled the spirit
The morning light streamed  through  stained glass
Windows streamed  golden rays glittered  with dust
She  coccooned  like  a  precious  jewel  in a casket
Eloquent  flute  love  songs leaking  from the woods
Enchanting hedge of mist Sweet smoke of bonfires 
Feasting dancing God and Godess sacrifice of love
Hair in braids picking  blueberries playing in  woods
Moss-covered  trees  roots  sunk  deep  in  the  earth
Wind through leaves whispered of ancient mysteries
The solemn towering circle of  huge standing stones
Midsummer  jewelled cup of  life  and  harvest  cheer
Spearshaft  carved  with runes  Hoofbeats  on  stone
The setting sun imbued his skin with a red coral hue

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Heavenly Postioned Place

I am left with nothing to lose or to gain.
I walked in deserts and I found my Star.
It was brilliance, shined by few, and far.
I held my head high until yes I am sane.
It was trickery so I sought some rain.
She glowed tremendous thus bizarre.
By fate, my Star had no Earthly scar.
It was at high peak and by far plain.
It took me forever plus another day.
Vividly I made it through the night.
The Sun also the Moon led my way.
Even they were illuminating bright.
She stared me squaring straight eye to eye and upon my Earthly face.
She partook for me to take my stand in my heavenly positioned place!

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Consoling arm recovered dignity

 Villa  tapestries  gave  the  space a hushed quality
Baskets of bread fruit cold chicken  and some wine
Books some paper  some quills and a  bottle of ink
White horse fair haired rider in crispy  white uniform
The leaping deer almost invisible in the far distance
Dozens of lithe  greyhounds darted in the dark glade
Fair pretty delicate her even gaze tinged with sorrow
Series of quick sketches A finished study A painting 
Of a renaissance angel Liquid shining ceramic dish
Air rich  with the scent baking roasting  pastymaking
Beautiful  silver gown long  lace veil  spring  flowers
Immense  old  oaks  and chestnuts  branch canopy
Enjoy helping hunt and  collect  plants of  the forest
Taking  his arm  affectionately  gathered  her  cloak

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Early spring first green

Months  passed Absence He  had gone to war
Polished bronze bowled rapidly along the road
Walking  along  a  path  through  a pine  forest
Spots  of mud drips of  rain  pressing  buttons
House design  exquisite in  classic symmetry
Red  stone glow  warm contrast to a  grey  sky
Outlined  within  framework of  their silhuettes
Subtle familiar rose perfumes meet and greet  
Loving  glazed eyes warm smiles kisses hugs
Exchange of presents  wrapped  and ribboned
Tears  fell  tracking  a course down her cheeks
Dancing  muse  darling   Aunt   wonderful cook
Lamplight  struck  red highlights silken tresses
Kettle  whistled on stove  Pot of tea on the table

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That's That

The Sun is on my horizon approaching this brand new day.
Ripples in the sea shatter my shimmering ultra-violet light.
Birds sing in the air and many more are on this same flight.
Rising high, the Sun makes rounds in its sweet special way.
Puffy white clouds are on the trail until they begin to stray.
Blue skies follow suite running off the wet darkened night.
Green grassy grounds are visions of a true God given sight.
Branches of trees wave at the Sun as if bitterly bent or fray.
Rising with the Sun and busy as a bee,
Up and on it I always rise just to shine!
It is all amazing just like being me!
That’s that and poof I’m all in line!

No really, I am telling you that’s that!
Now honestly who are you looking at?
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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I am a capstone to a brilliant plan.
Before your time I came into play.
I was morning night breaking day.
I was before during and after man.
Before person place and time span,
After the mixture of stone and clay,
During foundations faltering away,
I’m the capstone where you began.
Cornered by time to live again,
I am rushing waters in the sand.
I am the beginning and the end.
I’m reserved throughout the land.
You are never ever really alone,
For, I capped every single stone.
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

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Yesturday Once More

My childhood days were gold
I do remember them;
They with golden veil did my feels mould-
But all were short-lived like a short burning flame.

The walks along the fields of grain-
The runs through the narrow lanes,
The catching of fish
Are some of my memories that I still cherish.

As the darkness chilled the air ,
I sat by my grandpa to whom I was a dear
And his ghostly stories' terror
Made me sit nearer and closer.

And the reading of the jungle lore-
Oh! If I had yesturday once more!. 

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Common Ground

Starry night, Star bright shine your light!
It’s a lost world traveling at a rapid speed.
Oh guide me and teach me to properly lead.
For I am down here where nothing is right!
Send me a wind to take my flight,
And let them all take heed!
I am the deepest seed.
For I stand in all my might.
Let the Sun shine down on me.
Let the rains walk away.
Set my eyes where they can see.
For I am day by day!
As the world spins around and around,
I shall be found standing on top of Common Ground!

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That's That!

The Sun is on the horizon approaching this brand new day,
Ripples in the water and they shimmer incredibly bright,
A bird sings in the air and many more are on the same flight!
Rising high the Sun makes its rounds in a very special way.
Puffy white clouds are on the trail until they begin to stray.
Blue skies follow suite running off the darkened night.
Green grassy grounds are visions of a true God given sight.
Branches of trees wave at the Sun as if they want to play.
Rising with the Sun and busy as a bee,
Rise and shine!
It’s amazing just like me!
That’s that and it’s all in line!

That’s that!
And newer days we are all looking at!
© Copyright Ann Rich   2006

Details | Sonnet | |

Tid Bits

Great God Almighty, I took you throughout this heartland. 

It was oops, uh oh and Jesus Christ all of the way we went. 

I shewed or I spewed those great mightier and all you sent. 

Created and destroyed were all of those left held in a hand. 


Ashes to ashes and dust to dust we left them all in your sand. 

My, me oh my revelations came shining through in time lent. 

They ran to and fro with dim lights that were warped or bent. 

I gave and I saved for this that and the other for a high brand. 


I went all the way up and all the way down. 

Beside myself I turned life and death to me. 

I found a medium so I stood on my ground. 

I tell you today I do shine sea to shining sea. 


They all left and tossed their chips calling it quits. 

But I my Sir have it all here and there in Tid-Bits! 

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She's out there singing verse
Against a backdrop of surrender
Baking in wasted desert dry
Fathomless well of wondrous wording
Silent under ceiling fan cool
Thoughts in random redness
run wetly down cold feeling cheeks
Out in swelter seeking shelter
A mocking bird stands
One legged on a cactus shaded stick
Words form from inner longing
loosely linger inked and dry
Soar sweet siren
green eyed flight light
Spreading angel wings
Shedding shredded sadness
to fly so finely  free

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There is a man standing in the rain in a cemetery in front of his deceased wife's gravesite. He appears to be crying. Her death occurred years ago and left him with everlasting grief. He is resigned to this fact so everything he sees and hears casts him further into this state of mind.
This day is no different than all the previous times, except this time, the rain, a bird and a sound of bells contribute to his continued descent.

The rain concealed the tears he shed today.
He cried this way so many times before
but always alone. No rain can wash away
his anguish, anxiety... nevermore!
A tiny feathered harbinger alight 
her stone and cocked its head. A drop of rain
upon its beak that seemed to weep in sight
of him, a tear; then takes to flight again.
A distant tintinnabulation from
a church’s belfry pealed so mournfully.
He muses: fleeting wings of death had come
and taken from me so prematurely
my lover, leaving only heavens tears
to drench my heart with sadness all these years.

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Perhaps I Was

In thought, imagined, how well went the day, 
And how you shone in threads of white and gold; 
Upon your lips a wistful smile might play 
As if your thoughts had turned to friends of old. 
The future, as it beckoned, drew you in, 
As sweet as your beloved when you kissed; 
With melancholy heart I hope within 
A part of you felt I was sorely missed. 
I shut my eyes and see you in your dress, 
In radiance, a bloom of silk white rose; 
A vision tempered fair with loveliness 
And wish that I had been there in repose; 
Yet sadness is diminished some because, 
If you thought of me at all...perhaps I was...

Details | Sonnet | |

Disdainful Beauty

Disdainful beauty, goddess of the ice, 
With gaze as piercing as a flint-tipped shard.
Age-old allure still does the Chill entice
To dance with her, and pose as Winter’s guard.

Her staff, which strikes the slipp’ry ground, commands 
The timid Sun to seek his early death
And rules bold Night to sate all her demands;
She bends the iron with her frosty breath.

A sweeping cloak of snow behind her spreads
With ceaseless cold that trails within its wake.
As Winter, in her icy bearing, threads
Within a soul a crave, a pow’rful ache – 

Desire to see the sun shine down once more,
Rememb’ring springtimes that had passed before.