Loss Nostalgia Poems

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

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Details | Free verse |
stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains,
delicate pure white flakes danced;
swirling, twirling, rhythmically.

she stood, nose pressed tightly
against the window pane; gazing in awe
at the magic the snowflakes created;
as tears spill from her emerald green eyes.

the cabin is warm, radiating a comforting glow
a fresh pine scent lightly sweetens the air;
she fights the memories, as she begins to shake.

fingers entwined, she tries desperately to hang on
be present in the moment;
"stop, stop, stop" she says, stomping her feet;
she falls to her knees; quivering. 

she holds tightly her arms and begins to rock,
feeling his presence in his favourite black sweater;
she cannot bring herself to take off.

giggling sounds permeate her thoughts
cocooned in his aura, his essence, his scent;
she feels his lips kiss the nape of her neck,
his strong hands caressing her hair.

she rocks and rocks, time ceases to stop,
as she falls deep into a rich
moulton pool; his smouldering brown eyes.

her lips part; barely into a smile at
his joy when he surprised her with the cabin; 
their oasis away from home.

she wipes away a tear, beams from within
as she recalls the snowball fight, he lost, she won.
he scooped her up, carried her with glee,
over the thresh hold of their cabin; 
their oasis; their heart's retreat.

a decadent white rug bought just for her
lay invitingly in front of the fire,
fiery orange embers crackled and glowed.
he gently laid her down; "my beauty" he said.

they drank champagne, drunk in each other,
wrapped up in his care, she felt peace.
as they lay basking in winter's afterglow,
he whispered "this is my time, i must go".

startled, she sat up, staring deep in his soul,
as snowflakes twirled and danced, 
fresh pine lightly sweetened the air;
he breathed one final breath; then he let go.

her screams were not audible, her body convulsed
as she lay on his chest; her heart; her home.
she cursed the night and winter's afterglow
sobbing "not him, not him, please take me too".

she fights to bring herself back
to the here and the now,
as embers slowly dim, she wobbily stands
clutching tenderly his urn, she must set him free.

the stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains
she opens the window, where dreams breathed of life;

with tears cascading
she releases her love; her life;

to become one 
with the magic of;
winter's afterglow.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006




Details | Free verse |
Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies, 
our near-death rescue from boredom 
        come afternoon chores and homework pages 
                                                                 wrinkled in time.

I try to recall all I tried to forget. 

Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship, 
                         for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
           between love and loss,
 practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
          you,  a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain 
rays of sunlight climbed, 
imagination uncaged,
             carefree hours,
                 diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
                       on the wrong side of the tracks.

Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded 
of our   bitter, listless eyes, 
        our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
                    I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.

Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze, 
                         childhood secrets
shared with ease on our path, 
thick with               summer's dead leaves.  

We, too young to notice, 
                          fell into brittle leaves 
                                          trodden bare 
before first snow.

Our laughter now echoes in dreams, 
chaffing our willow trees 
                                       still sulking low, 
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty, 
         and waits for you to come home.



An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015




Details | Romanticism |
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,

So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,

Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,

Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of 
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing, 
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,     
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006

Details | Senryu |
carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach

Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |
Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 



Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |
We Had Time, Eternity Or So We Thought

We had time, eternity or so we thought
days of sunshine, picnics in flowering fields.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought
on and on, our raging love forever builds!

We had time, eternity or so we thought.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought.

We had time, eternity or so we thought
you with great beauty that would never fade.
In life's great illusion we both were caught
forgetting we were mortal flesh and bone made!

We had time, eternity or so we thought.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought.

Yes, about that time we both thought secure
those summers, when bliss came with the winds.
We swam in love, its clear waters so pure
treasured times awaiting around the bends!

We had time, eternity or so we thought.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought.

Yes, about that illusion we both held so dear
did we not see and hear its silent cracks?
More breaks in our shield that allowed in world's fear
with tragedy following up our well worn tracks?

We had time, eternity or so we thought.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought.

Yes, about past fantastic times of love's bliss
romance and its magnificent joys we had.
You and I shall hold onto that first sweet kiss
give thanks for blessings, no longer be sad.

We had time, eternity or so we thought.
In life and in love, nothing more ever sought.

 9-25-2017

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Her delicate silhouette still lingers in my eyes, 
closer than these arms can embrace; haunting me. 
I breathe her in within the lull of a zephyr, 
lilac and roses filling the air; forever staining my memory.
Life found her defenseless, silenced by a veil of darkness; 
faith clutched tight within her hand,
as esoteric dreams are shattered beneath the rages of a soulless hand.
Frail she emerged, soul hidden, draped in shades of gray.

Sweet serenity severed tragically; incarcerated reality. 
Her taunting whispers bleed my heart,
no peace for the buried thoughts inside;
for innocence was laid to rest before dying, 
earthbound, intimately weaving in and out through me.
No more saline tears to sate these eyes,
just an expressionless specter in human disguise.
She wore candy apple red the day she left; bright eyes that smiled.

Copyright © T.Nicole Williams | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |
They’d …

They’d cuffed me when in error
They’d hold me when I’d be ill
They’d calm me when in terror
They’d wave to make me still …

They’d smooth my hair back on my head
Before the camera’s eye
They’d touch me when I went to bed
They’d sooth me when I’d cry

They’d wash a million dishes
They’d fold a ton of clothes
They’d help me with my wishes
They’d warm my freezing nose

They’d point at things for me to do
They’d help me with my plans
And that is why I miss so much
My Loving Mothers' … hands.

Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |
On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.

Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.

Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.

No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.

Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
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 | Free verse |
their park, their bench
was serenely quiet
leaves playfully danced
as pigeons quickly took flight.

he caressed the colourful scarf
she had knitted with love and care
he wept tears of remembrance; 
her smile, her joy, the scent of her hair.

a chilly breeze made him shiver
he held tightly his scarf,
wrapped it around his lips
he inhaled deeply; breathing her in.

with steaming cups of coffee
a paper bag of gooey cinnamon buns
they had laid out the sunday crosswords
debated and laughed; they were truly one.

tummies full, cheeks a rosy glow
she lay her head on his lap
gazed into his clear blue eyes,
he kissed her forehead, held softly her hand.

this was their time, their park, their bench
he beamed recalling, the day she chose him.
she raced him uphill to the gorgeous oak tree,
they rolled down the hill; laughing aloud.

he rose from their bench, 
lured by the gorgeous oak tree
fought back tears, as he slid down the trunk,
knees to his chest; fingers wrapped in his scarf.

he read what they etched only a few days ago,
hers read "you are my oak, forever you are my love"
his read "my scarf is your heart; you are my soul"
he kissed the etchings; cheeks streaming tears.

glancing down at their bench he froze, watching;
a young couple with steaming cups of coffee
gooey cinnamon buns peeking through a paper bag,
he rolled down the hill; his scarf,her spirt,in hand.

pulling carefully a piece of fringe from his scarf
he carefully placed it in the young man's hand
smiling, he watched them hold one another close;
in their park, on their bench,now; a new love bloomed

she forever lives in him, their park, their bench
the etchings, her laughter, the love in her eyes.
his scarf, her soul; eternally they are entwined.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2007

Details | Haiku |
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
She sits on the porch in a cool desert night
A bobcat stalks prey in the day's fading light
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
Evoking old memories she thought she outgrew

Memories of nights of moutons and mums
High stepping half-times and booming bass drums
And homecoming dances that ended too soon 
Under West Texas stars and a big bobcat moon

He sits on the beach in an evening gulf breeze
An autumn vacation in the Florida keys
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And brings to his mind an old memory anew

The reunion that gathered together that year
Old friends and acquaintances scattered and near
To tell stories of glories till late afternoon
And share in the evening the big bobcat moon

We sit by the lakeside past sunset one time
The end of another communion sublime
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And summons a vision of friends we once knew

She flies round the barrel with her long ponytail
He yells and rings joy on the victory bell
We loved them and all those who left us too soon
We'll remember them well with the big bobcat moon

©January 10, 2013

For my high school reunion group. The bobcat is our school mascot. 
In Texas, girls often dressed up for the homecoming game and were given a chrysanthemum (mum) corsage by their date. In the late fifties an inexpensive "fur" coat made from straightened and dyed sheepskin called a "mouton" was often worn by girls wanting to look elegant.

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The rainbow of reason ends
With a pot of gold and jabberwocky.
When hippocampus dwells in solitary,
       silent,
              eerie,
                    forgotten dormitories
of the expatriated mind.


In planned visits 
To familiar spaces,
When elapsed faces are still hailed with fervor, 
         and hasty,		
                 eager,
                      vivid candor,
As though they had never gone.


Deep in thought
In cavernous bowels tangled lost, 
Remote repartees recurring restlessly. 
          Cautious,
                      wary,
  	                    and ever leery	
of echoing footsteps anxiously nearing, as though someone might overhear. 


As even eyes fail to mirror
The twilight of past vigor,
Speaking in feeble voices muddled beneath walls,
            beneath walls,
	           beneath walls,
	                     beneath walls.
Walking politely in ancient, and empty, imaginary halls.


The stars stop still and unfleeting
Listening to last breaths, and the heart’s last beating,
To hearken timid last words from the past's last illusions,
            past apparitions,
                         past veritas
                                   past delusions,
Where celestial alae still go a-flutter with lost aspirations.


When the frail hand that once held and sheltered
Cannot even rattle dandelion clocks,
Or crush delicate imago wings into dust,
          and caress, 
                  and feel,
                           and touch, 
Save for Elysian veldts
Where the rainbow of reason ends.


Copyright © Ryan Caidic | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.



Internal rhyme
Imagery
Assonance
Alliteraton
Repetition
Synesthesia

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Honey? 
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…



*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sonnet |
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.

Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
I light a candle for you this lonely night
Vanilla scented footsteps from the past.
The smell of your sweater a poignant delight
I wonder how long the memory will last.

Lavender scent to ease the empty pain
Potpourri of emotions in the smoky air.
In honeysuckle flames I see you again
Inhale the smell of aftershave in my hair.

Lose myself in pipe tobacco and peppermint
Barbeque fumes from a long lost yesterday.
Chocolate laughter that tease and hint
Of watermelon wars in the dusty hay.

Coffee memories that taunt and tease
Lost conversations in the smell of brandy.
Dusty morning air after a hard freeze
Your body heat so sweetly handy.

I light a candle for you this lonely night
Vanilla scented footsteps from the past.
Somewhere deep inside it's very tight
I wonder how long is grief supposed to last.

Copyright © Heidie Buys | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
The voices grow louder, Intensifying with emotion, anger lining every aggressive word. My insides squeeze tighter as the vitriol poisons my mind, How does such hostility exist? As the sound of hatred deepens, The feelings strengthen their grip, like a vice, So tight, I can no longer breathe All the negative emotions I have ever felt, fill me, Threatening to overflow. So long have they been banished… Enough. No more! My mouth opens, An earsplitting scream of pain and suffering shatters the silence, Sobs of sorrow and grief wrack my body, Murderous shrieks of anger and hate, Wretched cries of self-pity and self-loathing, Poison the air. Now, free of these emotions. But the monster still exists Within the dark depths of my mind.

Copyright © Anastasia Papanicolaou | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Memories tumble through my mind, 
rolling aimless, some have been...
missing for a while.
I try to fill in the blanks. Others, 
I sweep into already dusty corners.
You know, the ones far easier forgotten.
Tumbleweeds...my memories
have become tumbleweeds.
I take snapshots of the cherished ones, 
file them away
giving them a home...
before they blow away in the savage wind.
I yell out to my own echoing voice -
"Did I tell you my mom liked to dance?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear her music, rock-and-roll,
her long hair bouncing with each step.
She doesn't dance anymore...
I see my step-father, hands dirty, working
always working, but sometimes
stopping to joke or tease. 
Moments gone...memories fleeting...
begging them to stay
a little longer or at least 
visit my dreams.
"Did I tell you my dad played drums?"
"Yes", I remember. 
I hear rat-a-tat-tat in my head, 
primal beats, rhythmic beats -
complex man, gentle soul...
I would sing at the top of my lungs while he played.
He never seemed to mind my shrill, little girl voice.
I miss him, I miss his drums. Music is not the same.
Nothing the same.
I close my eyes and another memory
blows through empty spaces.
My brother is racing his bike down the street FAST.
He is about ten, all skinny legs in his shorts.
"Where are you going?" I call after him, too late.
"Don't go, please don't go!"
He is gone and I wonder if he was ever here, there, 
anywhere within my reach.
Some do go astray, I remind myself.
Missing memories...missing love - 
loneliness finding a home in my heart 
when least expected...
"Wait, come back", I yell to him. "I'm still here."
Ruminating, I ask myself if we ever know,
really know, the ones we love.
No, not really. I remember.
Frantic, I reach for the tumbleweeds, grasping.
I reach for my two earthly fathers who are long gone...
I see them, each so different yet loved. Then, 
they blow away, missing again.
I chase them futilely. The savage wind still blows,
across grains of desert sand...
I will never know why, never know. 
Tumbleweeds...my memories have become 
tumbleweeds
blowing in a savage wind.


* one of my favorite early poems (maybe it doesn't seem happy, but
it includes some of my favorite memories)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

March 2, 2012
Second Place in Chris Aechtner's Let the Masks Fall Contest



Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse |
you, dear were my depraved, inelegant swan. envisioned in the moonlight - romanticized, wearing your cheap, red lipstick - and desperate to ravish me. if you did not love me the succulent fruit upon lip and breast would diminish here and now. i said, what man is without his mistress, and you smiled, exposing those crooked teeth. i love you, much more than i loved you then. you seem to have adopted the image of an ill bird, and in my dreams misery has approached you, shackled you; condemned you to love a furious man. i am sorry i could not endure with you, the tempestuous love for beauty. i did not wish to search for you, because i feared that you might be more appealing with those poignant bruises upon your face, declaring your mistake. i remember, in the morning, your breath was like a toxic thunder, as you prepared your quivering lips to kiss me, i did not know i loved you then, but i love you now. and when daylight breaks through the aperture of the night, my lovely sin, i will perish, because even now i love your transparent shadow. the earth, too, is harsh to me on burning sunlit mornings - and i love you today, much more than i loved you then. and only on this day i have been told by the wind that you are alive and well, but not happy.

Copyright © Lebedyenko Berborodov | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification |
The night approaches me again and you're not here still with me 
And here under my breath I call your name and I watch your loving face 
And there among the dark shadows  you'll come back  again the same  
I hear your haunting tune and I know that you'll be waitin'  this time for me. 

Release me from all this pain I'm sufferin "Come to me"and just take my hand 
Hold me in your arms so tight and please never ever let me again go 
Together we'll dream of that other time and fly away to that  magical time band 
There is no other place like this in heaven or earth where our love can only but glow. 

Join me here tonight,hear my voice into the night and just be mine for all time 
Come to me right now and give me all your love before the night is carried away 
Let me kiss your lips,caress and love you all night til we both see a brand-new day 
Disperse all the dark shadows in which I exist,come to me and be mine for all times.


Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 
copyright@2010 


July 18, 2010 


Author Notes: 

This poem amongt many others that I'd written in my life,had been inspired by 
my very favorite and most beloved vampire character of all time, 
"Barnabas Collins" from the most popular daytime soap opera series ever 
produced on T.V. in my opinion, "Dark Shadows." This whole DVD collection is most 
wonderful! 
And Jonathan Frid is so awesome! 

Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2010

Details | Cowboy |
Those condo cowboys are clingin’ to things that used to be,
Starin’ out those city windows or sittin’ on balconies.
They can still smell the country, the ranch, the horses and the range—
At times they wear cowboy hats, though folks might think them strange.

And like those cowboys long ago, they’re roamin’ in their soul,
From Nevada, Arizona and old Colorado.
They’ve seen and done so many things that most can only dream,
Yet still they have the urge to cross one more mountain stream.

But now they’re just old cowboys, that’s all that they want to be,
They seek no big fortune, high status or fine pedigree.
They see the world too clearly, seldom hold or mince their speech,
They live the cowboy code and keep life’s truth within their reach.

Those condo cowboys are special, each one from a unique mold,
They just keep on ridin’ life’s long trail and never do grow old.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005

Details | Narrative |
Suddenly a very soft and familiar voice spoke to her conscious saying “Lovely”
“Yes” she replied   
“Tomorrow you are coming back home”
“OK” she said breathing heavily
The conversation ended right at that instant 
Seven minutes later the unpredictable happens and Lovely dropped into a short comma.
A new day arrives.

Date: 01/01/1788
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
Lovely wakes up; open the golden windows the sun is raising
Knock, knock someone is at the golden door
She didn’t know what was going on this time
She walks all the way to the door not noticing that her house was made out of the finest
marble, and the finest gold that ever existed.
Lovely answers the door thinking is the mail man with the missing letter.
When she finally opens the door instead of the mail man was her husband with open arms and
a smile on his face.
Saying “welcome home baby” “I had been waiting for you”  

WE ALL  GOING TO A BETTER PLACE SOMEDAY. OUR REAL HOME.



                                                                                        
Diogenes Zuniga

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009

Details | Bio |
I close my eyes
And back home I am
Looking out those
Century old windows
My inner tears
Would burst a dam

I remember every crack 
In those walls,
Every floor board
Prone to creak
But the happiness
I had there,
Is something I can
now but seek...

Home of fifty years
Saw my tears and my joy
From infancy to adulthood
And the blessed life I'd had there
Since I was but a boy

A place where several
Family members had died
In the old fashioned way
And all those tears I cried...

Not in some remote hospital,
But where they wanted to be
And I'd suely love to die there,
If it was up to me..

But, it was my destiny
To come here, 
In this desolate place
Certainly I'm not that happy
But it's something I must face

I made a mistake,
I should have died there
Where I had lived so happily
And now, I barely care,
What becomes of me
My life is over
Save but a bit of love,
Still directed at me
And each day I wonder,
What do these people see in me?

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme |
I'm a raindrop on the window pane
Running here, there, nowhere but down.
Lost in the cool flurries of rain
As the storm dons its liquid gown.

Deep in my soul a reflection of you
Magnifying the memories and grief.
The years we had now seem so few
Our rainbows seem so very brief.

I raindrop down the dark abyss
So futile seem the echoes of fun.
I pool in how sorely I miss
Our liquid laughter in the sun.

Raindrop, raindrop going nowhere at all
Dribbling slowly down memory lane.
I drip and droop and languidly fall
In stagnant pools filled with pain.

In my heart the memories lie,
Your rainbows dance and sway.
So many storms have passed me by
Since you left and went away.

Copyright © Heidie Buys | Year Posted 2007

Details | Quatrain |



Evening softly pours down from the hills..
The birds quiet , I hear the old dog bark
Another day will soon be put to sleep
And again I will be alone in the dark

The scent of lilac now comes to me..
The breeze gentle as a baby's sigh
The old back porch a haven now
As I prepare myself to say goodbye

Never thinking it would be this way..
So many days without much meaning
Hearing the creak of the rocking chair
Now to the past my thoughts are leaning

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |
Where Yellow Moonlight Graced Her Pretty Face

When young, so damn foolish in my great pride
I rode the wind, felt like a mighty king
Looking back, find nothing I want to hide
do most of it again, complete the ring.

Days and nights flowing in sweet river songs
where yellow moonlight graced her pretty face
For such times, my soul now so deeply longs
without sad heartache, I want to erase.

Lost times, those nights disappeared into dark
sadness flows in, reminds me of my past
I was once, a vicious beast, hungry shark
the good times flew away far, far too fast.

When young, so damn foolish in my great pride
My darkness did things I can not abide!

Robert J. Lindley, 4-30-2016

Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 114

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |
Date: 12/31/1787
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
She wakes up; open her window the sun is raising
Knock, knock, some one is at the door
She rushes to the door thinking is the mailman 
She is expecting a love letter from Iraq
She finally answer the door but stead of the mail man is an officer from the army, he is
well dress and carries a small box with him and inside of the box is an American flag with
three different medals.
One medal is for being a soldier of the US Army, the second medal is for being a national
hero, and the third one, is a medal of honor for dying for his country.
She goes crazy crying out for help, screaming all out that she was expecting a baby.
“I’m really sorry” the officer says
“If there anything I could do please call me” he reached his wallet and pulled out a
business card and gave it to her.
“He was a brave man” he said
The officer turned around and left the house with out hesitation.
Poor girl was drowning in her own tears; she still didn’t believe what just happen 
“Lord please help me”, “help me go through this horrible pain” she cries out.
She goes back to the bed and tries to sleep it off, but it didn’t work out, the pain was
too much just to act like nothing didn’t happen.
She finally falls as sleep after several hours of crying painfully.
She tosses and turns all night long, sweating like crazy with massive pain on her chest 
While she was having a horrible nightmare; dreaming about the death of her husband-

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009