Couplet Nostalgia Poems | Couplet Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Details | Couplet |

If You Are The Ocean...

If you are the ocean, then I am the mist
which kisses the morning the way children kissed
their mother at breakfast to start a new day
If you are the ocean, then anchors aweigh
We'll sail through the evening and on to the light
The daystar is dawning, we'll keep to the right
like Peter and Wendy to Neverlands' door
we'll sail on forever and touch every shore
If you are the ocean, come wash me away
to some misty morning and there we will play
on beaches you've loved all your lovely life long
If you are the ocean, then sing me a song
of sailors and treasures and I'll have to say
If you are the ocean, come wash me away...

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2005

Details | Couplet |

The Box of Stuff

I heard him close shut the attic door,
I snuck in and saw him on the floor.

He found the box that I stored away,
As I turned to leave I heard him say.

“Mom, could you come here for a few,
Whose badge is this and what does this do?”

Placing the hat on top of his head,
Come close my son I softly said.

With a saddened tone I lowly spoke,
Pushing words over the lump in my throat.

That box of stuff belonged to a man,
Who left one night with his keys in hand.

He heard his pager go off late one night,
He jumped in that suit and dashed out of sight.

To answer a call, not knowing for sure,
The dangers his heart would have to endure.

He’d always been brave right from the start,
And was a good man with a courageous heart.

He wasn’t a man like typical dads,
That was mainly because the job that he had.

That box of stuff is his way to pave,
The bright good man you’ll be someday.

Because in that box that you delved into,
Belonged to a man who looked like you.

If you can understand I’ve never known why,
Before you were born that man had to die.

I cannot imagine what he went through,
To save a stranger he never knew.

He faced a danger he didn’t deserve,
He gave his life to protect and to serve.

He wasn’t respected most of the time,
But still he laid his life down on the line.

With all this that I share this day,
There’s a few final words I’d like to say.

All the stuff that’s within that box,
I want you to know belonged to a cop.

There’s a lot of things he never saw,
He lost his life defending the law.

And one of those things that he didn’t see,
Was watching you become what you came to be.

You’re brave like him in the things you pursue,
I know he’d be proud of the life you ensue.

It’s been along time that my heart has cried,
I still remember the night that he died.

Much has happened since the night he was slain,
I think you should know that you bear his name.

Yes there are times that I still get sad;
But I want you to know that man was your dad.

So put the box up my little snooper,
Now that you know your dad was a trooper.

Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2008

Details | Couplet |


Two impish girls by a ridge of the sea frolicked with wavelets lapping merrily as pink buckets swayed, in each little hand where clusters of moistened grains polished the sand bedecking castles on bright August skies; mermaids we dressed in ferns waiting to dry. Patty and I guarded the moats from the bad trolls with candles on gates as swooshing tides cajoled; a vignette we held in deep friendship’s mind when crests besieged our kingdom, how unkind as we fought the tides with shovels dug around, our legs standing firm to parry the roaring mound. But on our twelfth year, she caught a fever; Patty grew hazy, our beach empty right where all sandcastles dissolved from red to gray and no more turrets to chisel away . Now, summers without pails are a memory of two impish girls, on ridge of the sea. ……………………….. Memories of The Sea: Isaiah Zerbst’s Contest 5/14/2015

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Dutch Hill Park

I took a walk down Columbia Street
Back to the place where we used to meet
Where we played as kids until after dark
And hung out together up at Dutch Hill Park
Although alone, I could hear the sound
Of laughter coming from the merry go round
Sometimes we'd meet there in the early dawn
The dance hall, pavilion and the swings are gone
I saw those pine trees and I thought of you
And all the crazy things we used to do
Like sleeping out underneath the stars
Hanging upside down from the monkey bars
A swing made from  a rope and an old tire
We baked potatoes on an open fire
Squirrel nut zippers and an RC coke
Transistor radio and we'd have a smoke
We walked in the woods and we climbed some trees
We scratched our faces and we skinned our knees
Never dreaming that it would ever end
If I could, I'd do it all again my friend
Those memories I have will never part
I carry Dutch Hill Park inside my heart
And all those memories of yesteryear
Heading back home now I shed a tear.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

There was a time

The pendulum motions to and fro,
From the clock upon the wall.
As the second ebb like grains of sand,
For one by one they fall.

Through the window of the dim lit room,
For outside, lies a world of grey,
For thoughts now turn to yester year,
That seems so far away.

With freckle on skin and golden hair,
Topped with lace like bonnet fair.
Upon a face a smile of glee,
As little feet splash in the sea.

A bucket clenched in fingers tight,
With spade to match its colors bright.
 In awe and wonder of many things,
 Through eyes so young that new life brings.

  N  Windle.   MMXI.

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

The Mightiest of Poet's Still

Hark! The mighty sage’s quill,
Leaves remnants of genius, still.
Reminding me of richer days,
Where wines could really come to age;
And gods among the people dwelled,
In works of master poet’s felled.
Where aerie tales and thoughts of fancy,
Awaken something everlasting.
The faded thoughts of vestments tore,
Through mournful tales of days of yore.
I bore inquisitive insight,
To mouth a masterpiece delight;
Reciting thoughts from Edgar Poe,
In poetry and foul-like prose.
And as I muttered, “Nevermore”,
I pondered on his lost Lenore;
A femme who captivated thought,
His inspiration to the plot.
And in his wording wizardry,
So haunted by his imagery,
Moves me to expound wanton lyrics
To every soul who dares to hear it.
And with immense humility --
No pen shall cite as good as he.

Copyright © Tammy Armstrong | Year Posted 2006

Details | Couplet |

Seagull's Song

Sailing on a ship of dreams, through a deep and starlit night
The wind softly hums a lullaby, as the sails catch the pale moonlight
Indigo waters fade to lighter hues, when we reach the Morpheus shore
Where the anchor is tossed by a somnolent crew, in the place we are to moor.

The ship settles down in a harbor, cradled between two arms of land
As though lulled to sleep within this embrace, the keel leans upon the sand
The tall mast reaches up to the heavens, to nestle amidst the clouds
While waves gently rock the quiet deck, with each dip of its massive bow.

Troupes of fish dance past the stern,  silver scales casting prisms of light
While birds on the shore flutter exotic fans, with no thought of taking flight
Time halts to stand on its tiptoes, strained in balance it tilts and shifts
Then the stars wearily blink their eyes closed, and the tide sets the ship adrift.

The anchor is heaved and hoisted, each link draws a series of sighs
While the captain stands quietly before the helm, gazing at the brightening sky
His eyes crinkle up at the corners, emulating the soft rays of the sun
As Awaken brushes the horizon, with strokes of topaz, sapphire, and plum.

A yawn of breath unfurls the sails, with snoring puffs they billow
As tangy brine streams down my face, drops dew beads on my pillow
Floating thoughts of an uncharted course, bound on the seas of night
Sink as the waltz to the seagull’s song,  bows into the morning light.

Dedicated to Evans, who gave poetry the voice to sing, and the feet to dance.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

The Kirk by the Sea

John chapter 15 verse 12--- 
This is my commandment, 
That ye love one another, as I have loved you.

There’s a wee Kirk overlooking the sea
Lowly and humble but special to me.
Inside is the font where I was baptized 
The aisle where I walked with joy in my eyes
The altar we faced when making our vows
With God watching o’er us, then as of now
The brilliant stained windows to Peter and Paul
Shedding their light of peace over all
There in the nave a white marble plaque
Honouring the ones who never came back
But of all of these pleasures that I want to share
Is the presence of love that waits for one there.

Contest: The Church by the Ocean
Sponsor:  Constance ~ My Dear Heart ~
Written by : Margaret Foster Sept 26th 2011

Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

From the old Country

from the old country they came
some of them would change their name

the men be working the mines
afterwards they'll drink fine wines

factories would claim the rest
and weekend meals were the best

mom dad will teach kids values
never mind singing the blues

on Sundays church bells would ring
and all the choirs start to sing

for freedom is here
and life is so dear

remember this time
forget all the grime

for moms and dads have brought us here
this country must have been so dear

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |

Mother's Wisdom

We nurture them within our bodies, birth them in a blinding pain,
suckle them on breasts so swollen, till we think we’ll go insane.

We kiss away each painful boo-boo, bandage each and every wound,
show them that in spite of roundness, peas can stay upon their spoons.

We intercept their nostril’s flowing, be it green or white as snow,
wiping gently ever hoping, for the day they’d learn to blow.

We give to them each ounce of wisdom, try to teach them everything,
suddenly, for unknown reasons, screw it up and give them wings.

We mourn a bit, those cherished moments, when on us they did depend,
days when we were super heroes, possessing wisdom without end.

We watch the journey proudly knowing, as they soar into the light,
Mother’s wisdom, though not perfect, lends the wind that gives them flight.

Copyright © Shelly Berkeley | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |


Immersed in the sound of the low rustling wind
Memories and places they haunt yet again
Passed by so quickly as each falling leaf
Drifting and flowing on an unyielding stream
A current to carry from birth right on through
Filling our moments with cares which ensue
A mind lost in remnants of lovers and friends
Babies and children and time long since spent
Familiar, intangible, just out of reach
Longing for ghosts that my heart doth beseech
Winter is looming and summer is past
A time for remembrance the years gone so fast
Beauty is captured in my last breath of life
The sparkling colors in the warm golden light
Do mimic the glory and wonder be told
In those bright days of autumn and a life to behold

Copyright © Sara Ray | Year Posted 2006

Details | Couplet |


As I lie in this box, all dirty and scuffed.
I remember the time I was shiny and fluffed.

Alone and forgotten, I doubt that is true?
For I was once savored in red, white and blue.

Although, it may seem like a long time ago.
I once  flew through the air in many a show.

I was waved at through crowds as I proudly appeared.
So high I did blow and to many was feared.

It's just a matter of time, I'll be back once again.
I just don't like this box, and I do miss the wind.

Why must I wait until the fourth of July?
For I am important, it's my duty to fly.

Until then I will stay here, my memories in bloom.
Maybe the maid will soon free me, when she tidy's the room.

I know that she likes me, she flew me last spring.
Some kind of occasion, a Memorial thing.

This can't be my destiny, for I stand for truth.
I'm not just a toy, what's wrong with our youth?

I hear them play music of hate and it hurts.
I am use to large stadiums and enormous concerts.

How I long for the trumpet; A victorious sound.
Still I'm here when you're ready, not lost nor found.

Copyright © Astrid Ivy Gibbs | Year Posted 2008

Details | Couplet |

Washed Away

Dont despair that I dont miss you
  want to hold you
wait to kiss you
  I cant see you , I can feel you
with a heart line I can reel you
   Right back in just like the River
HOMOSASSA taker, giver
   In some light you flow beside me
seek to steer me, move me, guide me
    To a place I cant remember
Like a glowing, dying ember

    Of a time I cant recall 
But I know you have it all
     Saved on waves of long ago
Washed up somewhere I cant know
     Where each tide must rise and fall
Some Lagoon where nightbirds call
     Everyone sits 'round the glow
Waiting for someone to know
     How to read the map to find me
Even I am left behind me.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2005

Details | Couplet |

Technology Wasted

 was sitting in a crowd but felt so all alone
No communication, everyone staring at their phone
I just wanted to return to the life that I had tasted
No more electronic robots, I guess I'm technology wasted
Back to Bobbi socks and bobbi pins
Big hellos and happy grins
Culottes an pedal pushers, Friday night dances
Back seat in the drive in, teenage romances
At the amusement park in the penny arcade
Ferris wheel rides and pink lemonade
Walk hand in hand, sometimes act like a fool
Talk to each other as you carry her books home from school
Up in the balcony with your hands on her hips
New worlds to discover, lips touching lips
Yelling from the sidewalk can Jim come out to play
Riding down a hill while standing on a sleigh
Hanging from monkey bars, climb a tree in the park
Playing ball in the street until it was dark
Roasting potatoes on a campfire at night
Running and laughing while flying a kite
The smell of a bakery with bread baking at dawn
Lying in the grass, transistor radio on
Cotton candy at the County Fair
Butch wax or Brylcreem to train your hair
Flying high on a swing and then jumping down
Medicine show at the end of town
Picking blueberries for grandma's pies
Watching Old Yeller with tears in your eyes
At the drug store for a burger and shake
Skimming stones across the lake
Hot dogs and hamburgers on the old grill
Chase tag, hop scotch and King of the hill
Hang at the diner everyday after school
Meeting your friends at the community pool
Yes, take me back where talk wasn't a crime
Take me back to a simpler time
For all this complexity. I don't give a damn
Technology wasted is what I am.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |

One Last Hug

A wise man once had told me
as I sat sadly on his knee
Son, don’t be afraid to hug someone
When you get the opportunity

He said life’s too short for shaking hands
and keeping distance there
Just hug someone because you can
To show them that you care.

“You know”, he whispered  as he leaned  to me
with his eyes so full of love
“my daddy  told me when I was small
that they came from God above”.

So he gave me a great big hug and said
how does it make you feel?
I said with giggling laughter
“like a silly circus seal “

Well  God he knew, that we would need
Something  to touch our heart
When times got tough and we were sad
and needed a new start

So he created hugs to cheer us up
and make us feel brand new
Because no matter who we are
we need to feel loved too

So my son you can shake a hand
and play the average role
Or you can hug a man with open arms
and you’ll have touched his soul

That wise man who so long ago
held me upon his knee
Was the greatest hugger that ever lived
he was my dear ol’ dad you see.

But now he’s gone and I’m feeling sad
Cause I miss him oh so much
The way he kissed and hugged you tight
He had a special touch

So if I had, a single wish
to make this sadness flee
I’d wish a moment with that wise old man
A  “one last hug” for me.

Hug Someone Today!

Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Dear Rapunzel

It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.

It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.

It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.

Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.

Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.

They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.

Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.

Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

Bon Jour

An eighteen year old sailor on the Riviera in the Spring
Mademoiselle Your smile can make my young heart sing
Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo who could ask for more
I volunteered for the USO, so on duty days I could be ashore
I held her hand and said bon jour, i danced with her that day
Looking into her eyes, Aime-moi, s'il vous plait
Stopping by a sidewalk cafe, we had a glass of Beaujolais
Then I walked her home and promised to meet another day
Two days later I returned but she was nowhere to be found
I saw her one more time before my feet left solid ground
It was a one time memory, a love not meant to be
She returned to college and I returned to the sea
I still have those memories and the wonders that we saw
But to cry, i'l n'est pas necssaire pour cela.
I think back sometimes and it cuts me like a knife
France will always be a special part of my life.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

When Time Was a Friend

I was listening to oldies wishing the songs would not end
They carried me back to when time was a friend
A time when I wore a younger man's smile
Culottes, pedal pushers and love were in style
We rode our bicycles all over town
Put a flash light on the handlebars when the sun went down
Sometimes we'd gather in Dutch Hill Park
Play on the swings until well after dark
We smoked Luckies and Camels because we were men
Filters were for girls way back then
There were fights and laughter, sometimes a beer
A childhood lived without knowing fear
Mothers raised children, fathers worked hard
Wash was on clothes lines in the back yard
Somehow the bills got paid when they were due
Dads stopped on the way home from work for a few
Sometimes there were days without a penny to spend
Neighbors were family when time was a friend
We cherish those memories as we get old
Memories are more precious than silver or gold
I close my eyes say a prayer and to sleep I descend
Then dream of the days when time was a friend

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

The Fifties - Music

The Fifties...Music

The music of the fifties…well, what can I say…
was heaven here on earth compared with that today.
Romantic, lovely sentiments of heart and soul,
with poems set to music to advise, console.

Mid-fifties music era rendered lovely songs
safeguarded in my heart these many years, belong
forever to remember, matter not how old.
These gems, mid-fifties' songs, hold memories untold.

Too many to recall, but I can single one,
the song played at our wedding, never was outdone.
The Platter’s hit song “Only You,” so touched our hearts,
its words hold true today, and here is how it starts:

      “Only you can make this world seem right
       Only you can make the darkness bright
       Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do
       And fill my heart with love for only you
       Only you can make this change in me
       For it's true, you are my destiny
       When you hold my hand I understand the magic that you do
       You're my dream come true, my one and only you….”

Romantic, lovely sentiments of heart and soul,
with poems set to music to advise, console,
was heaven here on earth compared with those today.
The music of the fifties…well, what can I say…

Below, more songs and hits that then did make my day!

      Memories Are Made of This ~ Dean Martin
            Great Pretender ~ The Platters
                  Rock and Roll Waltz ~ Kay Starr
      Heartbreak Hotel ~ Elvis Presley
            A Tear Fell ~ Theresa Brewer
                  I Walk the Line ~ Johnny Cash
      The Wayward Wind ~ Gogi Grant
            Ivory Tower ~ Cathy Carr
                  On the Street Where You Live ~ Vic Damone
      Allegany Moon ~ Patti Page
            Tonight You Belong To Me ~ Patience and Prudence
                  Love Me Tender ~ Elvis Presley
      True Love ~ Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly
            In the Still of the Night ~ The Five Satins
                  Goodnight My Love ~ Jesse Belvins
The music of the fifties…well, what can I say…

Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: Old or New Poems
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 07/25/2016

~4th Place~
Contest: Decades
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Judged: 03/22/2015

Form: Couples in iambic hexameter (12 syllables and 6 beats per line...except in 'Only You' words and list of songs).

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Bugle Calls At Fort Carson

I hear the clarion bugle calls at Fort Carson when conditions are just right,
Sounding "Reveille" at break of dawn to the mournful sound of "Taps" at night!

"Reveille" 'wakes soldiers from their well-deserved rest to begin another day
Of training to protect our freedoms, though they do it for very meager pay!

The bugle sounds "Chow Call" at noon for lunch, the most welcome of calls!
The dining facilities peal with laughter, Yankee twang and Texas drawls!

The bugle calls "Retreat" and the roar of cannon is heard to end the day.
Old Glory is slowly lowered, solemnly folded and tenderly stowed away.

The plaintive sound of "Taps" is played at ten PM echoing as clearly as a bell!
Its peaceful call heralds, "You've earned your rest, God is nigh and all is well!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Not Like We Did

Not Like We Did

Sometimes I wonder about the good old days
Growing up and parting ways
Sometimes wish I could have stayed a kid	
They have good times now but not like we did
Painting ghosts on store fronts for Halloween
Stop at Mike's and play the pinball machine
Go for lunch down old Broad Street
Get a hamburger from Texas Pete
Friday dances in the gym at Saint Jerome
Stop at the bowling alley before going home
In the Vic is where I first got kissed
At the Coffee Cup, we did the Twist
The Coney Island and the S and A
Stopped at the pool room almost every day
Behind the Acme lot there was a circus show
Swim in the summer time at the Bungalow
Stop at the station waiting for the train
Deliver the Courier in the pouring rain
Watch a parade on Decoration Day
Flowers for Mary during the month of May
Little income but we were all well fed
Danny sold Italian bread
Back porch picnics and we played wiffle ball
Free movies in Middle Ward park, we had it all
Church picnics at Dutch Hill Park
Play in the street until well after dark
Small man thrived, a living earned
Tamaqua was where we grew and learned.
We had sports heroes when I was a kid
They have heroes now, but not like we did
Stadium was filled for the football game
Basketball season, the town did the same
Roller skating on center Street
Stop at the Five Points to get a bite to eat
I look back and my memory thrives
So many good people have touched our lives

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

I Am a Veteran

 I Am a Veteran
By Franklin Price

I am a veteran growing old
Always went where I was told
Followed orders to the “T”
Volunteered that was just me

Basic training taught a lot
Learned to march to take a shot
Make a bunk exactly right
Pulled KP into the night

Torn down to be built up
Became a dog from just a pup
When I arrived was just a kid
Left an adult you know I did

Trained in skills I did not know
Earned sixty dollars not much dough
Tried to never sing the blues
Even spit shined boots and shoes

Some skipped the draft went on the lam
I enlisted and went to Viet Nam
The year I spent the one of Tet
Of that Asian war I am a vet

My country called I answered it
For four short years I did not quit
I learned so well to handle strife
Not much else hard for all my life

Do not regret a thing at all
If young again would heed the call
Would grow up quick as I did then
Yes, I would do it all again

Copyright © Franklin Price | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

When We Wore Blue And Gold

It was September of 1960 and we were growing
Elvis sang "It's Now or Never" anticipation showing
New kids in town for our Freshman year
Our last at St. Jerome's, adulthood near.
We hung out at the Coffee Cup on Berwick Street
Five Point Diner and Palma were sweet
We never dreamed of growing old
Back when we wore blue and gold.
Sophomore year brought us to Saint Ann 
Not old enough yet to be called a man
Hitch hike to the My Place and Bowling Alley
Travelled around the Panther Valley
Weekends looking for a brand new thrill
Going to the Coffee Shop in Summit Hill
On the Juke box "Runaround Sue" and "Cathy's Clown"
If "Rumble" came on we'd quickly leave town
Building memories as each day would unfold
Back when we wore blue and gold.
62 saw the Four Seasons singing "Sherry"
Our next two years would be with Saint Mary
Pep rallies in the court yard, who could forget
Sneak down to Henry's for a cigarette
Laughing, joking, we were only sixteen
Drop another nickel in the pinball machine
Flip a coin for a pool game, choose who will rack
Fan buses for away games, have a smoke in the back
Lou Christie sang "Two Faces Have I "
"The End of The World " made Skeeter cry
It was 63 and our time was near
We were starting our senior year
Unsure of what our future would hold
Back when we wore blue and gold
November came and some of us cried
The Friday President Kennedy died
Before the storm there is always a calm
Trouble brewing in Vietnam
In 64, invaded by another land
The Beatles wanted to hold our hand
The school would be one next year we were told
Back when we wore blue and gold
June arrived, graduation day
A time to rejoice, a time to pray
To change the world, thoughts so bold
Back when we wore blue and gold.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Safe Harbour

As the light starts to fade, at the end of the day,
And the last rays of sunset cascade on the bay.
The fishing boats set sail, their little lamps a glow,
Off to deeper waters and the school of fish below.
Along the granite, harbor wall, the lime washed cottage stands,
The little wind swept coastal path to the causeway and sands.
At the point a lighthouse giving out its light,
Protecting the wayward mariner as he sails on through the night.
For generations have come and gone, it’s always been that way,
As tide rolls in with the fishing boats that signals break of day.

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008

Details | Couplet |

Life in focus

The wind doth brace my body so,
As I stand astride the moor.
Invigorated by its feel,
To the sky an eagle soars. 
For what splendor and sweet freedom,
Will my soul, feel such happiness.
Given all that’s gone before me,
So much sorrow and unrest.
Oh to see the sun at daybreak,
At dawn the rising mist.
To walk barefoot on the dew tipped fronds,
And to know that I am blessed.
For upon my face the warming sun,
That leaves a kiss with such caress.
Flowers with scented blossoms lie,
On their petals my head I rest
©  N  windle  2012

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |


Above me I hear the pounding shells,
The mechanical sound of war.
And like so many, just cannon fodder,
In my mind hard to ignore.

They say that times a healer,
My thoughts still far away.
To see the cradle of my youth,
And the haven of yesterday.

Under the canopy of subtle green,
Down a little leafy lane.
A wooden stile sit’s, a gateway,
My hope that some thing’s, stay the same.

Though the pathway to it now is worn,
By those who have gone before.
In it’s post carved forgotten loves,
Now on show for ever more.

From the time of it’s construction,
It has watched the world go by.
Sweet hearts filled, with loves emotions
A teardrop wiped, a final kiss, is this goodbye.

And through out the year it stands there,
As each season comes then goes.
A robin red breast say’s good morning,
As it shake’s off the winter snow.

© Nicholas Windle 2008

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008

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A Tribute to Jack Russel

He was graced with long life as the work he required,
A present flame, aft he retired,
He deepened the souls that sat before him,
And made them express with written decorum.
He read their assignments with special attention
That challenged and called forth youth's finest rendition. 
He opened the door to a life well read,
His students entangled in Baalat's web.

Gazing back through the specularium of time 
One saw an intellect so immensely fine
That it slightly abashed those of higher grade,
His light joining their lights where others fade.
Moving on one lingered a bit in the past,
Still meeting challenges from his intellect, so vast.
That it scarce was contained 
In the role for him framed. 

His soul now borne upon the Stygian Lake
Leaves proper grammar trailing in its wake;
This gentle muse vanished in the night,
The curtains closed, doused the light.  
No need for stately obelisk oe'r his bier
To greet mournful pilgrims once a year;
For though he'll be long gone, 
The phallic symbol, he loved so, lives on.

Copyright © Boruch Fishman | Year Posted 2012

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Writer's Block

You know what I hate about writer’s block,
How my creativity is hidden behind a lock;

Time ticks away as I stare at my screen,
My heart beating faster from the strain of caffeine;

The cursor flashing lulls me to doze,
Til a fly lands smack on the tip of my nose;

I swing at the fly and glance at the clock,
How did 10 AM turn into 5 O’clock;

I stand and I stretch and then walk away,
And say goodbye to another wasted day;

Maybe tomorrow will inspire my brain,
Or I could be slowly going insane…

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011

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You're Beautiful

Wow!... words cannot express,
Such beauty, such finesse.

The shape and color of those eyes,
No description will suffice.

Just like wine, you're finer when older,
And beauty to the eye of every beholder.

©2013 Honestly JT

Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013

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Oh Boy

Hey, this is nice floating around in here
No sweat and no strain, got nothing to fear

Whoa! What is this? (Don't mean to complain)
I think I got flushed down somebody's drain

Ouch! What's the deal? Must you be so darn rough?
I refuse to come out! Don't like it? That's tough!

Crap, I'm exhausted; just too tired to fight
The lights! The lights! Turn off the freekin' lights!

Slap ME on the ass? That hurts you old cow!
Okay! I'm screaming! You satisfied now?------

Hello, pleased to meet'cha, and who might be you?
Daddy? Yeah, right, so what else is new?

Good lord, I'm burnt out, I could use a short rest
Where? Well okay, right here on your chest?

Wow, this is cool! It's really kinda neat
Like hearing the sound of your gentle heartbeat

Yes, rock me a little, I sure won't refuse
And hum me a tune while I take a quick snooze...

* I had the pleasure and privilege of being the first to hold my son after he was born.

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013