Ode Nostalgia Poems | Ode Poems About Nostalgia

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Details | Rhyme |

Ode To Vigan City

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright 2014 Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved

-Sharing with you an old poem of mine. 

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

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Shannon O'Brien | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

' The Face Of Love '

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

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

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

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

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

                                 Mistress MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

Because They Play the Game

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


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

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

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

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

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

A Hard Working Man

A Hard Working Man

Many days have gone by and still I hear you across from the depot
There you sat on a bar stool and took off your ring
Thought I'd try to get a closer look, so I walked on over
As I sat down and started to ask him  his name
Then the drinks finally had an effect on him
He then blurted out, " I say I'm no quitter!"
But I finally quit living on dreams.
I tell you I'm so hungry for laughter, for here and ever after
I am after whatever comes to me each and every other to which life has to offer.

Then I took an impish glance in the mirror and watched him
In an instant, I thought he had looked so out of place. 
Then he turned and glanced my way and sat down beside me;
For an instant, a strange look was seen on his face
His huge hands were immensely calloused
He was one mighty mountainous of a man
For one moment I felt so out of place and had feared.

Then as I turned to leave, his voice had turned to molten lava
Please dear lady, can you spare the time to keep me company?
I just had the worst news so humanly possible, I just lost my papa!
Can you spare an extra hour so we can just sit here and talk;
I promise you I'll never ask you to commit to anything wild and impossible.
One look in his soft brown eyes told me that he could be trusted
Okay, I will stay with you for awhile as long as you stop playing that same song over and over.
Yes, lady, I will accommodate you to whatever you like and offer you a drink and some nice talk.

Copyright © Sherri Whiteford | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Lullaby And Good Night

Sound that brings Back memories Sounds that make One cry …From an ol’ music box… Sound that tears Tears from one’s eyes And wrenches forth Deep sighs …Nothing quite like an ol’ music box… No, nothing says poignancy More so… than does the silken notes That softly flow …From a music box… That plays ‘Lullaby And Good Night’ And tinkles down E’er so slowly Til wound again …Up tight…

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

The Wall

He is the row locker that holds the bridge
He is the Bison that carries the load from the deck
A wall that resists oppositions, guards them in check

It’s been build to shield the back four
And plastered to cover up loopholes
He is hard and strong, José’s goal

This is the wall reinforced by José
His work-rate is breathtaking like wild horses
His presence is haunting to opposing forces

The fulcrum upon which the system revolves
Anchored at either end of the bridge
Is a wall that stabilizes a moving ridge

He takes up knocks and blows
Yet, never crumble to the ground
This is the wall that essentially runs around

He is a Mourinian, the rediscovered wall
Opposing forces hit the wall and bounced off
Ooops! “He hit my wall”, José scoff

Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Ode to First Love

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

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Remembering Belle

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Danielle Wise Baxter | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |


(Sing to the tune "American Pie.)

I long, long time ago, I can still remember when,
Junk food made me smile,
And I knew if I had a chance,
That I could make my fatness dance,
And maybe I was happy for a while,

But McDonald's made me shiver,
With every burger they'd deliver,
Bad news on their doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step,

I can't remember if I cried,
When I passed size twenty-five,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day I knocked back French fries.

So, bye, bye, McDonald's French fries,
Drove my chevy away from McDonald's,
didn't have a bevy,
I said goodbye to whiskey and rye,
Singing no more apple pies,
That's the end of obesity fries....

Did you go to McDonald's biomes?
Did you know you're changing your genomes?
Eating all those pesticides?
Now do you believe they love you guys?
Might as well eat dead flies!
And can you change evolution in real time?

I was an obese teenage bronco buck,
Driving to McDonald's in a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day I ate landfill in those French fries...

I started singing bye, bye obesity fries,
Drove my chevy, had no bevies,
And the burgers were dry,
This is the day I knock back French fries.

I met a girl who sang the blues,
]She'd passed turning size twenty-two,
I asked her if she ate junk food too,
She just smiled and drove away,
I drove down to the store no more,
Where I ate additives years before,
But the junk food store didn't care anyway...

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015

Details | Double Dactyl |

Ode to Woodstock

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

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

Copyright © Bas Holzhaus | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

as quiet as he ever was

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

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

Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ode |


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

Copyright © Torian Lockett | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Ode To Harmony and Serenity

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

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

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

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

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

Down to earth, 
all of them 
and no less;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chokri Omri

Copyright © Chokri Omri | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Ode to a Grandparent

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

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

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

Love those GRandparents!!

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

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

The turn of progress

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

Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

An Ode To Youth

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

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

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

Copyright2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)

Copyright © Beatrice Boyle | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Ode to a friend

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

Copyright © michael hornschuch | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

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

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

Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

The River Emerald

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

Copyright © ashek rahaman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification |

Ode to Rita and Maddie

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

Copyright © sashi prabhu | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Waking up is Dangerous Business

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Mason Lucas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |

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

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






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

Copyright © John Taylor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |

Ode to the Ozarks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Two short days gone quickly by

Here’s to lights out, to pens down, 
To checking out.

Here's to Friday.

To the first pat on a back, kiss of a cheek
And clink of a glass.

To bars, beaches, basements, the corner shop,
And dining at dawn with a pocketful of change.
Here’s to letting clothes lie where clothes fall.
Here’s to rising when the sun does, 
and sleeping till it sets.

To the coffee thirsty, the work hungry 
and hashtag no filter.

Here’s to an adventure on the horizon,
And feet resting on a dashboard.
Here’s to life, to love, to laughter,
To friends made and friends lost.
Here’s to two short days gone quickly by.

Here's to the weekend.

Copyright © Just Maye | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Ode To the Five and Ten


It was old fashioned shopping,....floors were warm planks of wood Where footsteps sounded hallow, and the walls were lined with goods A “5 and 10” cent heaven, … was the friendly Woolworth's Store One would always be surprised, what revolved behind that door How quickly flew the hours of a summer afternoon, to fritter through the clutter, that lay in waiting there Time would disappear upon a dime, with a sweeping of the eyes like the feather dusting of the racks on the shelves of all the years One could hear the clink of metal that nourished the till Where children holding a mother’s hand, could be rewarded for keeping still Little hands, restrained, would tire, leaning over a heart’s desire While a mother would conspire with the clerk of the day For there a child would stand in mute dismay, An indecisive millionaire, a fight of tooth and nail despair With fifty ways they might disburse two whole nickels in a purse A bit of this and a bit that, a stack of crayons, a pair of socks, Some satin ribbons, a new array of small barrettes, to dress the locks Cases of candy, a licorice whip, eyes embracing one after another… Laces or vases, sissors or needles, color climbing color The stacked up bolts of ginghams, worsteds, chintz and serges Trays of trinkets, and souveniers, ‘Evening in Paris’, the bottle was gorgeous All of these things, under a dollar, even a collar for all the pooches To know how it was to sit on a stool, after school Order a sandwich, and sip sodas, always cool and sublime This was how Woolworth’s….a store of the past Would build a memory to last and last….., Forever in time, for a nickel or a dime... ....how much more could one girl find, and how much could one child ask? ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Skat's Premiere Contest: #13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Villanelle |

Ode to a Man on a Social Media Photo

He’s no Romeo, the man in the photo
There was a young man with the same name 
I think I met him twenty years ago 

He was no Mr. Popularity but an average Joe
He had steel rimmed glasses and a lanky frame 
He’s no Romeo, the man in the photo

I can’t control where my fingers go
Social media is a one-sided stalking game 
I think I met him twenty years ago 

Sometimes he was less a friend than a foe
Arguing about politics every time he came
He is no Romeo, the man in the photo 

Yet I can’t deny that I miss him so
Wondering what the eccentric man ever became
I think I met him twenty years ago 

All in all, he brought more laughter than woe 
Clowning with a spoon on his nose without shame
He’s no Romeo, the man in the photo
I think I met him twenty years ago

Copyright © Jackie Chou | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Fee-On-Her Joy

Fee-On-Her Joy

A peril of the real epitome of Negro goddess,
Her gift packed neatness pouted love in her,
That has been brewed from Luo love pot,
Her lips lithe in coat of spicy charm,
As she slough, the hot, sharp and pleasant heart beating echoed voice,
In a mouth full of jibes from the blessed blossom balmed lips,
Arousing their loins at the joint of thigh,
As if it was fee-on-her, that gives birth to their joy,
She is a real artistry of long lost African goddess,
Don’t ask me fee-on-her, because Fiona is she that joy.

A beau clamoured with joy to charm-hypnotized eyes,
Your enchantment leaves,
The mind free to ride,
An up and down undulating waves of dreams,
As a thin sleekly silver, chain adorns your tender neck,
And disappears into the deep ‘V’ cut,
Between, the budding bust thrust of your breast,
For those who does not know you,
Awes the bog of jealous to your African knotted body,
Don’t ask me fee-on-her, because Fiona is she that joy.

Copyright © Sabion Osore | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


Your skin is dark like you on the inside,
Instead of showing yourself off to the world, you run & hide,
& in me you'll always solemnly confide,
& this is because you know I'll always be by your side.
It feels like an eternity since I've seen your face,
A week too long without your longing embrace,
What I'm experiencing is not a phase,
A girl in love that will never win this case.

*1,4,3 <3 <3 <3*

Copyright © Kre8tive Kae | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

The hunter has been hunted

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

Copyright © chukwuma obiora | Year Posted 2008