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Abc Nostalgia Poems | Abc Poems About Nostalgia

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

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Details | ABC |

An Angel In Disguise

Water rushing through the brook
leaving drowned out laughter
and a blooming lilypad

A mother with a weary look
as she wades through, feet clad
It’s her children she’s looking after

Hair threatens to fall in her distant eyes
She remembers when she hadn’t worried
stealing kisses under barnyard roofs

She begins to chastise
“Children put on your boots”
She raised the voice, and they scurried

But inside she was grinning ear to ear
Thinking of sweet-smelling memories
and grass-stained linen

As her children crawled near
She said, “Now listen,
I must share some stories…”

Copyright © Mckenzie Boyer | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

A Shady Tree

I know its the summer time because of how naturally 
Your beauty compliments the caress of a summer breeze
As I watch the world from beneath a shady tree
I take in the delightful comfort of everything I see
But in the same breath I am holding up my hands
Lord will you please give me back the things I no longer have
They are even more a part of me now that they are gone 
As the sun falls below where the horizon is still holding on
Somewhere between the falling light and a star lit night
Is a dream that last forever and will never say goodbye
As the wind gently blows through the brush and shakes the leaves
It begins to hum a melody that I want to sing
At that very moment I smile for all the joy I have
Its so uplifting for me to see melancholy dance
Soon the morning sun will rise and capture my eyes
As I watch the hand of God paint a brand new sky
With every stroke of color I swallow all my pride
And I find a new place to dream of endless times
If I should ever get to the place I left my broken heart
Only then will I believe this brand new day will start
Again Im reminded of why my heart beats so restlessly
Only the speed of thought and my soul beneath this tree

Copyright © Jesse James Forster | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

New Year

Years past unfold
Seems just yesterdays 
Tomorrow will be New Year
Streams of thoughts never change.

Copyright © marvin celestial | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

Treasure Trove

After working day long, was relaxing mind and soul With a beautiful song.

 gazing around,my eyes caught the  glimpse Of a bright colored book.

It was my diary ,a vault of wonderful memories Of good and bad.

 Sweet music  was being played in the heart,when i saw  one unfinished poem looking 

Sadly at me,saying ,give me a beautiful ending.
A poem,which is treasure trove  of unsaid feelings ,but still hold so strong in the heart.

 The poem got its beautiful end,and feelings still linger in the heart,even when the 
person goes away from us.

Its not that feelings are dead and Heart had dried up,they blossom like a flower

every time whenever they Cross our minds and make us relish  those wonderful moments.

Tears rolled down my cheeks Of content and happiness.

Copyright © kenisha shines | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |


your heart is avowed by nostalgic pigeons 
pigeons that you did away with stones


Copyright © shabnam shirvani | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

The Best of Times

We have lived 
In the best of times
Where music was clean
And poetry rhymes.

Where a girl could walk
The streets all alone
Without the safety
Of a 911 phone.

Where decency led
And civility was the rule
No one suffered
The acts of the fool.

When it was okay
To let out a howl
At the precision proficiency
Of Frank Sinatra and Eleanor Powell.

Sad that such things
Now bring on a yawn.
Such times of enjoyment
So innocent and gone.

by E. Marshall Evans

Copyright © Ed Evans | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

I cant wait

I can see my future
Bright and so richer
I can see the bigger picture
I wanna be my life’s teacher.

My future will be so bright
Don’t get me wrong get me right
I know that I have my dreams 
Not those I have by night
And because I’m willing to fight
I’m sure I will get it right.
And that is why I can’t wait.

My future will be bright and fair
Not because I’m going to be a millionaire
But because I will get there
Were those who succeeded are.

Day and night I will pray
Before I get to gather hay
I won’t wait for May
Just because today is today
I will be hand in hand with work and any try.
Because I know there is no other day like today.

I won’t term myself ‘a failure’
Because I know I won’t be a failure
Life is easy and I don’t know why
                        They think it’s difficult
For my future; I can’t wait. 

Copyright © Desire Kateyera | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |


I wish the days would come back,
I wish the moment would come back,
I wish the past would clash with the future,
I wish it didn't seem like a dream,
I wish history could repeat itself……..
The future seems so depressing, so uncertain…….
Sometime I wake up wishing it was all just a nightmare…….
Wishing you were still here…..
I don’t like how the future looks,
Although I don’t know what the future will hold….
But somehow,
I know that things will be the same.
And I know for a fact that I will never be the same.
I wish I could rewind time & replay every moment spend with you.
This feeling of nostalgia is sometimes too much to bear, 
because I miss you so much……
sometimes I see you right here beside me,
teasing & mocking me like you always do,
sharing the dark secrets you hold within,
laughing at jokes which were not funny……..
and then I wake up realizing it wasn't real.

Copyright © CRYSTAL MAAHI | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |


The sound of silence carries me to another place.
The cascading droplets of water begging me to remember, the soft sand molding to my feet asking me to feel it again, the taste of salt water waiting for me to remember another lifetime, the hot tips of the sun ray unfurling and deliciously heating my skin wanting me to recall when we met last.
So long ago I called this place home.
I frolicked in the sand and ran to meet the crashing waves. Although I was born in the dead of winter, I was raised in the light of the shinning sun and the depths of the shimmering sea. The beach is what I call home, where my nostalgia is a beautiful sort of feeling and the tang of salt water brings the comforting lull of home back to me.
The crashing waves gently whisper my name.
They speak of promises and secrets untold, yet to be discovered beneath their indescribable surface. Running my fingers over the rough exterior of a clam shell I recall first discovering the beauty they hide away inside. Since that moment the ocean entices me and calls my name from miles and miles away.
Now I stand on rock towering above it all.
The waves crashing against the cliff trying to reach me, the send peeking out as the water recedes, all calling out to me “home.” And then slowly, freely, I fall. Diving into the depths of the sea, returning home.

Copyright © B. Ariel Moreno | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |



When the yellow sun reflects rosy hue on the east,
It will find me awake and waiting,
For I must go home this time!
All I require is an eighty-passenger engine to roar me through,
And when I feel engulfed in the ever whirling dust,
I will know I have arrived!

When I hear the howling wind,
The shouting of cunning jackals in the veldt,
Women’s lullaby that shatters the silence of the field,
The chanting of the cuckoo birds in the field,
The sight of sheep as they descend steep slopes,
I will know I have arrived.

When I hear the cracking of a whip in October,
The bellowing of bulls as they hoof out dust,
The roaring of tractors, the boom of thunder,
The barking of dogs, the snow that powders me white,
And the sight of an eagle that takes a flight,
I will know I have arrived.

The sight of our yellow bricks house,
The lowly mowed green, green grass of home,
The big, big strawberry tree I used to play under,
The smell of the slowly home brewed beer
In the over brimming tall glasses,
Tell me that I have arrived.

Across the river bridge, down—down the dusty road,
Under the twilight, water mirrors a shaky sky,
All has changed since I left home long time ago,
There runs my sweet Mary and children,
And to meet me is my pappa and mamma,
Slowly moving in walking canes,
And I am glad to be home again!

Copyright © SIMON M MATLOU | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |


I was many in the field But had to know what's beyond the hill. Didn't know the cost was my roots.

Copyright © Eleftherios Ioannou | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

ME(by kimmy holmes, my daughter)


yOUR'E sO MUCH     better
i MAKES ME quiet
Not so mucH ME

you tell me I might be sad
I am ready

Copyright © janetta harrington | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |

The punishment of the Paradise

I saw my dream fly away like a bird that escaped my body.

It is dificult to touch something that can fly like a bird because dreams are born to 
live free in the mind, as the birds to the skies.

You can see the dreams, but from the moment that you try to touch them they 
disappear...just as the water disappears in the desert if you go close.

Don't try to taste the apple of paradise.
See it but don't touch it.

Because the dreams keep all the secrets and the magic of our lost paradise.

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved

Copyright © Constantinos Grigoriadis | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |

For Ravi Shankar: This Is What It Was


Raga. Sun shifts as fingers on
Ravi Shankar is dead.
Old women in dark clothes 
make it down the road through
a tabla of sounding rain

We know not sometimes
what effects us until it
has done so.

Play music in the cell phone
and breath while awaiting the

Pour honey onto bread at home
and think, this is what it was.

Copyright © Romella Kitchens | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |


She stood and stared through the window,
Thinking her mind was playing games on her
But no..
There they stood..
What was supposed to be her ‘forever’? 
Turned into her never
Trying to suppress her feelings of hurt
How did he replace her so quickly?
She closed her eyes and let the tear fall.

Copyright © Oriana Lezama | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |


A handsome rooster with red-breasted feathers, soft and lustrous,
and a head covered with golden plumage,
was too unhappy to sing about his age,
so he embarked on a long journey, sadly departing from his friends.  

Thousands of miles over farms, vallies, villages and cities he flew,
seeking with all his strength an urban, bustling place...
to terminate that monotony, which made him too blue
and disunite himself from an ordinary life which implied bondage.

And roaring over majestic mountains, rolling hills and cities with skyscrapers,
he encountered suspicious and envious eagles that
challenged him with their vicious shrills, but he displayed no apparent rage...
still diving into luminous and transparent clouds.  

The unhappy roosted had not rested for three long days,
and exhausted of flying, he decided to take a brief break by a bubbling stream;
his dry,wind-whipped eyes started to roll and he fell asleep...
and trancing and tossing, he rolled downhill into an harbor of sailing ships.

The well-rested rooster woke up around noon, finding himself in the lap
of a gorgeous boy and he was telling his mom kndly,
" I want this rooster, he can keep the lonesome and quite parrot  company."
And she replied, "It's a not a pet, my son!" she explained.

Mothers always try to please their kids, and sometimes spoil them,
not according to their customs and bekiefs...fathers are much stricter than them.
"I'll take care of him and I'll feed him, and soon he'll be living on our ranch home."
"From now on, his name will be Harbor: the lovely place where I found him."

The gentle boy kept his promise and Harbor became family,
and the untalkative parrot tought that Harbor to say the same and exact words he said,
and as days went by, nobody knew how he could utter them humanly;
and how did they find out that Harbor was smater than any other rooster or even bird?

They actually heard them in a challenging conversation who could find a perfect mate
in the shortest time and the shrewd parrot would surely be a winner,
but to his surprise, Harbor, with his accumulated widdsom, sought in a nearby, sunny farm,
where chickens were raised and transported on an old air conditioner freighter.

Harbor looked around, and he didn't seem to like any chicks he saw;
was he about to give up on his search? Suddenly not! He trotted past the noisy barn,
and to his bewilderment, he spotted a beautiful chick on the grass below...
and gallantly accosted her, and with a chat, he started a romantic affair by keeping her warm.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | ABC |



I hear distant drums sounding loud,
I hear trumpets echoing tonight,
Oh, I can hear their warm and quiet conversations,
I guess they are on the way to Ramabifi Hills!

It is a clear and loud call we cannot deny,
And when skimming silently in the starry skies tonight,
We will see that we are not alone in the night set ablaze,
Please come with me and share this wonderful view!

Look up there, the clear moon is riding high in the sky,
As it journeys slowly through the good heavens!
This brings to the end, the darkness of the long lonely nights,
Come let’s soar high up and play amongst the stars!

Are you asking me about the songs of Spring?
Listen, Ramabifi Hills have them too!
The small birds are chanting merrily from the dense tangled branches,
More clearer than man-made music could bear!

I see you and I silhouetted together against the bright moonlight,
Yes, every single breath you take is mine!
Oh, I can feel every beat of your heart!
I woke up and looked around . . . yes . . . , I was only dreaming!

Copyright © SIMON M MATLOU | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |


Another Beiderbecke
Compact disc
Exacting feverous,
Gratifying harmonious
Idyllic Jazz.
Kings, Lords, make noble
Obeisance portraying
Some, tendering
Unqualified verity, when
Exuberant youth

subject jazz,

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2010

Details | ABC |

Home sick

As I see him hug
And laugh with his
And I look at her
Sitting on the lap of hers
I missed mine
And I shed a tear 
That I am miles away
From her!

Time run
Run and run
For I want to hold her
In my arms
And laugh with her too.
Cos I miss my MUM!!!

I am homesick
Friends help me!!

Copyright © Adesina Idris Dolapo | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

American Music

American Bandstand caused dance explosions
fearful grandparents held investigations
jailed killers loved music 
nothing on plastic
quitters reverse strategies
underlining victories
wishing X 
youngsters’ zest

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

I refuse to die

I refuse to die

Life is not my slave 
Though I am always brave
Even in the torrent wave
Yet, my choice sometimes life does wave

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

I chose to love
But none was a dove
Do you remember, I put my culture above
I am a Yoruba in move
'Eyele ' ni won n pé ni 'dove'?

Sebi won leyele kìí bonile je
Ko bonile mún
Ko dojo iku onile ko yeri

Pardon my conversion
It is just to quote an assertion
As mentioned in this conversation
That Love should not be a selection
Well, I am not going to make an aversion
All I love made an accusation

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

Knife came knocking at my door
Pleading myself  I should shook
My phone rang and, alas, it was Gun
Asking earnestly that I shoot
And  Rope on me all day long
Wanting myself hang on a hook
Oh, I am too tired and poor

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

Why? Why must I my life I take?
When everyone's joy would be at stake
My dear mother her bread I bake
My darling wife her fast I break
My lovely children we game at break
Though my love someone does brake
Not my heart for once they did brake
I owe my life to them to take

So, even
When they make me feel life is an oven
I love to be with them even
I ward away from them all evils
I owe my life to them to take
Oh, I am too tired and poor
All I love made an accusation
'Eyele ni won n pé ni dove'?
Yet, my choice sometimes life does wave

I feel like dying
I refuse to die

#LEARNERSpen 9, Jumadath Thanni, 1439 (7/4/17)
I locked up some poems under the heading *poems* in my blog akewiagbaye.wordpress.com  please, do check them, interesting

Copyright © Babatunde Sheriff-Balogun | Year Posted 2017

Details | ABC |

when a woman leaves a girl

after all,a woman's mistakes are different from a girl's
they are etched by fire on stone
they are in fact considered traits, not just errors
and now you're so alone
when you were 14 they all said how much potential you had
now you hit 19 or 20, and you're just considered bad
if you were a troubled kid, things were different than most for you
and i don't mean GETTING in trouble,although for some,it's that too
but depression is so very real,they just have no idea
and looking in the mirror to feel,you must skip your next meal
you are never good enough,and always fall just short of pretty
although you are considered smart and extremley funny and witty
they way that you percieve yourself,is different than what others see
at least that's what i have been told,do you agree with me?
but why is it that when your younger,people just want to help
but once you reach 19 or 20,your just dealt the cards your dealt
i don't feel any different inside,i can tell you that for certian
the older i get,the less they care,i hide behind a curtain
i'm still a kid at 21,at 22 as well..
im still a child in alot of ways,living in an emotional hell
where did all the helping hands go,the ones that were there before
i blame myself for not taking that help and will forever more
because now apparently,it's too late,nobody cares about me
i am not a cute little girl,just a woman who needs to be free
i ask of you,human to human,the next time you want to judge
pray for patience if you need to,ask for help from above
but something tells me im not alone,there are others who experienced this
there are others out there that need help so badly,please don't miss
don't miss their smiles,that are still so young,even though they look so grown
at 21 we are not adults,and pretending we are makes us feel alone
maybe i AM alone in this feeling,i have no idea
but what i do know,for sure i feel...this is very real.

Copyright © Brittany Carroll | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

White Moments in Time

White days
White nights
White alabaster arms and legs
White crimson lights-

Oh, what seamless nights-
White moments in time
White memories - yours and mine,
White love, white hate
White demise-
of a inkling of what's left
of our white/hot passion
upon white silken sheets...
Only that is not what made our love complete-

Copyright © gwendolyn cloyd | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

lost in space

lost in spACE
IN time and love
around it waste
all that i have
out there i go
as i tumble and dive
for this star i know
that keeps me alive
but, never so kind
not a breath of air
as my life unwind
i saw despair
in this dark eclipse
where my life i waste
just for a glimpse
once again of her face...


Copyright © lorenzo locsin | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

i went to the park

you  were there  i  turned  around  and  tryed  to   walk  away.
the  littlle   boy  i  was   babysitting  wanted to  go on  the  swings.
so  i  covered  my   face  when  when  we   got  there  you  noticed me
you  walked  over to  me  and  said  i  know  you  from   work.i  tryed  to tell  him  i   
only  said   you'r  ugly  because  I  was  tricked   by  the  girl  that  does  not  like  
me. dressed  up  as  me  and  walked  over  to  you  and  said  you  were  ugly.

Copyright © doris lee | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |

Fourteen Catfish

        Fourteen Catfish
Fourteen catfish swimin along
one was caught cause he went wrong
thriteen catfish swimin all night
two got hooked before daylight
eleven catfish in the brook
seven fell for the fisherman's hook
four big catfish sniffin bait
three of them just couldn't wait
one fat catfish all alone
got no girlfriend of his own.
      © ron wilson

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

The Irony About United Nations

United Nations while the institution is divided by the languages they 
Speak the food they feed on prepared by different chefs.

They proclaimed unity but wars didn't end within the jurisdiction of  
Institution there is mountains of answers have been asked, but non 

The institution disguised behind democracy to desecrate the innocents to 
Nonsensical meetings with the hope of different approach

United Nations but dictatorship still the cultural of many countries the 
Poor pay the price of emaciated bones in war torn, the ribs of children 
Are the captions of the newspapers?

United Nations is institution of imagination where boiling ideas collided 
Under the sycophant of being able to remove the bullets and bombs inside 

I pay tribute to all those who paid their souls unwillingly to the 
Senseless wars grasping the world.

Copyright © Mohamed Manzur Bah | Year Posted 2017

Details | ABC |


Thanksgiving Day has arrived 
in the nippy month of November,
and the dining room is in a festive mood;
Holiday music is softly playing in the living room...
the aromatic smell of the oven roasted gobbler
spreads to each room, to make everyone drool
for a taste  of this delicacy in the late afternoon,      
I bet all of them would!    

Yesterday morning I went to the local supermarket,
and looked for the youngest and fattest turkey,
the one which is tender and moist...a turkey guests love to eat;
and when I spotted the best one, I hurled it into my shopping cart,
and went straight to the cashier acting a little crazy,
knocking down piles of canned food all over the floor,
and making all the customers scream!
Somebody next to me yelled,
" Young man, be careful...look out!" 
Over there...another pile of tomato sauce jars
fell and the breaking glass sounded
worse than a quake hitting this quite town!
Embarrassed, and somewhat hilarious for the unexpected mess,
I rushed out with my heavy shopping bag...trudging like a hunchback!

The oven roasted gobbler steams on the table deplete
with lots of Holiday treats: eggnog, apple cider,
cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, roasted chestnuts
and a set of red candles to match the glossy plates;
O gobbler so perfectly cooked, you're ready for the sharp knife,
and be cut by the volunteer who will say, "Grace!"
O gobbler so tasty and young, wouldn't you love
to come back to life...and poke everyone with your beak?

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | ABC |

Moon At Noon!

I was lying leisurely on my back
on mid-morn Monday of May second
My gaze and glance heavenbound
The cloud forming into mountainous sheet, i observed
And disintegrating, like surf they dissolved
Disintegrated but in characters so hieroglyphics
Like Michelangelo's renaissance sculptural acrobatics
Through it i  had a permitted view
Of the noon by its arc in lieu
Of its fullnes, without its alluring presence
Stripped of its illumining essence
Appeared grey, blue and off-white
Stood plainly and passively tight
Like a lone spectator in an arena
So, the moon at noon seen but no sooner
Gone, like a spy that was almost unmasked
In consipracy by the uniting cloud concealed

This poem intends to capture a moment of passing day in time in rhyme for 
posterity, May 22nd 2005. 

Copyright © ifedayo oshin | Year Posted 2006

Details | ABC |

The road of the moon

I know, 
you have to go.
But remember
wherever you go, 
every night the moon will comes behind you
and i will follow that.
I will get the road of the moon.

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved

Copyright © Constantinos Grigoriadis | Year Posted 2007