Verse Memory Poems

These Verse Memory poems are examples of Verse poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Verse Memory poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Dramatic Verse |
Sleepless Night

***
Teardrops, bagged eyes, a way of sin
The mirror reveals a lost eternal soul
A conniving move against tonight's phantom glow
Voices circle around the insomniac moon
Like magic and beauty, "She's Gone With the Wind."

The idea of love, 
broken like yesterday's wishbone.
She is leaving today,
her arms, my shelter
her wings now immense.
Beauty --- she's gone forever! 
Never will she suffer-
Never will she return-
All I have are lost memories,
tracing what is left.
One final deep breath
tequila vice
to wash away the pain.....

At Last, Now I See!
Under the drunken stars 
I had an epiphany 
Stricken like a match
A sunken treasure 
At Last, I Knew
You did not belong in there,
you were there for the taking
Frail and sick, no longer sane.
Memories lost, no longer - her
My Mother! 

What has become of her since? 
You're a demon, who played us all
Made us cry, while she slowly withered away

The way you laid waste to her body
nipping both her legs
Fed her through a stubble

She rapidly forgot
our names'
our faces'
I hate you Alzheimer
I hate the way you took her the first time!
I hate you Death
I hate the way you claimed her final moment!
***

Sleepless nights and pillowed feathers,
Caress a precious moment around my tender skin
Pretending my mother tucked them in
Anything to help me get past my sleepless nights.


7-08-13

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013




Details | Free verse |
Once Upon a Purple Sunrise

Pretty as a Periwinkle,
in your frilly summer frock,
the one with purple polka dots
that matched the cool of early dawn.

Haloed in hazy lavender hue,
I'll always remember you;
running bare-foot through
the corn fields still wet
with translucent drops
of fragrant morning dew.

The scent of damp, fresh grass
lingering on your waist-length, 
ebony braids, that wrestled free
of their crimson satin ribbons,
floating away in the pale blaze 
of a new day, riding on a gentle breeze.

Your childish giggles drifted
through rows of raspberries bushes,
a look of total wonder reflected
in your bright smiling hazel eyes,
innocent as the wispy grey clouds,
that awake with the surprise
of a transient glowing sunrise.

Where did you come from, 
Little Sprite, with your 
mischievous deep dimples,
cherry-stained cheeks and lips?
Even gazelles would be jealous
of your long, lithe brown legs, 
graceful as a swan's,
gliding in casual slow motion.

Carefree as a hummingbird, 
hovering in suspended animation,
you were lost in the beauty
of your own song. 
Did you forget me,
waiting for you with 
finger sandwiches and sweet tea?

But that was okay –
it was your time to wander
in an ocean of wild yellow daisies
that needed to sprout
in your youthful heart…
take root and grow
in your memory forever.


02-17-2018
  

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2018

Details | Free verse |
It is thirty six years ago, and I am with her in the garden,
where July is a picnic of egg sandwiches, cress-stippled,
fuzzy-downed peaches, yellow-tangy lemonade.
Her fingers have the delicacy of dancers
as she deftly mixes paint on a palette blue as the sky -
blobs of acrylics bright as sweet shop candies.

Summer is a sizzling colour wheel, spinning in its heat hues -
cadmium orange, pyrrole red, gold ochre -
those fever-flames that blaze across her page.

My small world is warmed by the sun in her smile.

Russian vine stitches a delicate doily over the shed roof.
The heat-glazed garden shimmers and buzzes.
There is a twilight world under sweet clusterings of lilacs:
a cool shock of shade, pendulous-legged black flies
hovering in the murky mauve.
China white stars of jasmine light my way.
Please keep me close. Let me stay.

*

It is twenty six years ago, a morning of mourning,
and the notes of the dead bells toll
as, mist-muffled, they roll
through November's sleet streets.

I close my eyes and the sun in her smile parts the clouds.

Sober-suited people crush and cluster in pews;
row upon row of perylene black, winter-pale faces titanium white.
Stained glass windows filter and warm the ash-grey light
until her coffin is a vibrant palette of rainbows.

There are stories - lots of stories - anecdotes,
a crimson-backed journal she wrote,
a painting she painted, coffin-propped,
a poetry reading - one of her own -
Tapestry is a wondrous thing, in it the lovely colours sing...

Creamed rice-colour roses heap sweet
on her stone - a slate plate serving up a dead name -
and carnations splash cadmium scarlet
like blood throbbing from the gash of grief's raw wound.

*

It is now, and I am alone, taking a short cut home
through evening's rich palette.
Elegiac elms shed viridian tears
and the sky is a burnt sienna explosion.
October's umber seeps into November's sepia tones.

My mind is coloured with her and then.
I hold a small cameo box that held
the colourful spill of her pills: kaleidoscope planets
orbiting my loneliness, spinning off into nothingness...

Dark figures fill the park: silhouettes, shadows
following me home; spirits stepped from her portraits,
faces pushed down into coat collars, crinkled with frowns.

Paint-pinned people in their primaries and pastels,
on canvas, under glass; stopped heartbeats of the past.
Trapped moments on paper and boards.

I close my eyes and see the sun in her smile,
recall how, since her passing, life has become a free fall,
a parapet leap without parachute.

And the smudged charcoals of memory
are beginning to blur, fading like her watercolours...




in memory of my grandmother

2nd place in contest 'Anything Goes', date judged 4/12/2014
date written 11/3/2013

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2013




Details | Free verse |
The ship in the habor on silvery seas Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon Drifting in cold whispers of the night Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees In the loud echoes of the crawling winds The brave ship nods its old head Restless on the empty stage of the bay When lonely stars bleed their light On what was once earthly sublimity Now silence and haunt lingers there A graveyard of bones and sadness Beside the desolate harbor Rustling in the cold distance Laboring with a haunting melody That invades me in shivers of night. Sadness defeats The happy spaces of my mind Then your sweet kiss would descend Oh... your sweet kiss would descend As a fragrant memory Thawing the pain In the frost of my heart. My soul beckons your presence But silence became my loyal friend And Emptiness - The sorrowing of my hours That slithers through the night As the brave ship nods its old head Crackling and desolate In silvered breaking waters 'Neath moon's limpid eyes My hands descend With crimson buds of April's flowers To rest upon your tomb Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''

Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
I reach onto the bookshelf Carefully removing the photograph album from the top shelf We nestle together on the sofa I slowly turn over the pages Yellowing photographs that capture precious moments frozen in time Suddenly you become animated Hidden memories begin to return … We laugh as you recall stories from the past You lovingly stroke the faces of those now long gone Wishing they were there by your side for real Tears fill your green eyes as you reach out and gently squeeze my hand Nostalgia Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
11~25~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Oh Avi, Avi
  Sometimes, with my eyes closed
    I see you dance
      A dervish, whirling, like me
        And I wished
          Oh how I wished you would
            pirouette into my arms
              You would hold me
                How I would hold you

                  But my arms and yours
                caught girls, alluring and delicate
              Oh Avi, Avi
            When you laughed
                                          My stomach turned
                             And multi-coloured butterflies
             And small flying kites
danced into the air

     Occasionally you glanced at me
       the way I did at you
       I think you did
Oh Avi, Avi
        We were so young
                Just boys, small boys
Thinking about you still
  makes my day smile

             I wheel my chair
        With light rhythmic movements
   Dreaming about a time
  Where I still had dreams
     And you were in them
          With our tights and muscular
               Frames and our spunk
             Avi, oh Avi.

***

March 7, 2017
© Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The End of Love

A secret grief rips apart all that was
Slaves to the sexual caresses of time
Stallions in black gallop gallantly in fields
Of spring full wishes
Thou seeith the birth of love
Naked hopes surrounded by sweet perfumes
Seduced by the gods or by demon fools


Dancing, towards our own charades we sing
Funerals consume autumn’s dead poets
The gravestone cold and gray
We hug it like a long lost friend
One may see a battle lost
The other a battle won
In November we reminisce the soldier and singers too

Didst you know I was a prostitute?
Selling my soul to the hourglass of eternity
Foolishly hoping to sleep upon her breast
Shivering as others seem to fall right at deaths door
Brimstone, black and rose

The underbelly of St Laurent
Youthful boasts as the old man in cane hobbles
Generations sailed down the main
Some seeking solace others finding fame

Vaguely the recollections appear
Visions inside dreams inside the darkest fears
The end of love is near
For the hand above is reaching
As I float to the end of time

Enchantment in the crypts
Ravens dancing as they consume our mortal
Hearts
No smiles, no sleep
Thou did knowest I’m surely certain
The dance of death
Only to be followed
By a piper
And angels violins

Rags and shrouds, kiss them all goodbye
Hallelujah



In Memory of Leonard Cohen, a fellow Montrealer, 21 September 1934 – 10 November 2016.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |
Christmas Past A time I still remember, Christmas day in 'fifty-three…I was age fourteen then… and I recall those very special hours at home, so cozy, warm with my loved ones of many generations, happily around the sparkling tree with old-time trim of bubble lights, glass balls…and Christmas songs playing softly on the record player. Extended family…my mom and dad, grandparents, brother, cousins, uncles, aunts… spent happy hours…and such a blessed time was shared as peace and love were felt by all. It was perhaps the only year we were together in one place for Christmas day. I keep that time of family delight in memories that fill my heart…for some there on that day, so special in my thoughts, are dearly missed, no longer here with us... they fly with angel wings, look down from high above in Christmas past, with joy and love… As I…once the youngest, now the oldest generation…carry on that spirit and make traditions last…to someday be my children and grandchildren’s Christmas past. Sandra M. Haight 1st Place~ Contest: Nostalgia Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron Judged: 11/28/2016 ~1st Place~ Contest: Any Poem Sponsor: Broken Wings Judged: 12/21/2015 ~1st Place~ Christmas Past, Present or Future Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Judged: 01/09/2015 Form: Blank Verse: Unrhymed, 10 syllables, 5 feet per line

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
The house slumps against overgrown yards
Where gardens wilt against the ground,
Begging for sleep beneath gray skies.
Vines move through weeds 
Like brittle fingers,
Reaching toward a sagging door 
Where paint peels like weathered skin, 
Curling in agony against the grain.
Once vibrant, now fading
Like all doorways to yesterday.

This is where memories flee,
Lying in wait like dormant ghosts 
That walk through the walls of my mind
As I walk through the door.

The hinges creak in protest,
Rusted by the rain of forgotten days.
The floors squeak in upset,
Unaccustomed to my timid feet.
The dust is stirred, the silence snaps
Like twigs used for kindling
To spark my tepid heart.
A decade becomes a moment.
A moment becomes a lifetime.

This is where memories live,
Trapped in time like restless ghosts 
That walk through walls and haunt the halls 
Of doorways to yesterday.

Though broken, they open
To swallow me whole.

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The scent of your soul A caramelised breeze of fruit odours reverberating softly through my memory Throwing me right back in ninth grade where we sat side by side Your right arm reaching slightly for my back. Thoughts of you dwell in my mind and your name resonates gently with my spirit carrying me back to the shade of purple orchids in evergreen woods. Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee-beans and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind. Such revoked moments of unknown danger Of fearless dreams , and defiant fun. Other moments of beauty and snow angels Of freedom and moonlights ,sunrise and life. I can still recall those weeks ,months ,years till footprints marked separate paths and our shared candles became the past. Ah those lazy siestas, those days...those nights... Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice -cream parlour Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup Fresh as the linen of your shirt which haunts me like an alluring glance of almond - shaped eyes. This afternoon, like other afternoons, I walk to the library that knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own. That fragrance 's gone now . All that is left is a fading perfume of forgotten petals, between old books and dusty shelves. Nobody here, except my silence and a rotten sliced apple , Vacuum- packed ,lacking both cinnamon and spice. Back home, the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips to play once more ,upon the worn out chords of my heart What willI play , What will I sing , a song that isn't ours ? Fermented wine I pour into an empty glass Yearning to taste the grape for what it was before all it was turned bitter, acidic and sour. Alone , I wonder where you might be So far or not so distant ,listening to the mood in my voice on once upon a record player, Wishing on a star ?

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Nobody observes her leaving her room wearing just her nightdress and red felt carpet slippers Shuffling silently she slips out of the front door onto the street Rivulets of rain start to soak her to the skin Her straggly hair hangs down limply It becomes so matted and twisted Soon it looks like writhing snakes are alive on her skull Her once pretty face is now lined and wrinkled Rain drips off the crevices and onto her sagging breasts Wandering off into the night she begins searching Walking the empty streets with her arms outstretched Searching, searching, desperately searching Eventually she reaches the children’s playground Sitting on a swing she rocks backwards and forwards The rhythmic movement seems to calm her down Tears form in her eyes and mingle with the raindrops Strong arms hold her and she is powerless to resist She hears voices telling her she must return home ‘We knew you’d eventually find your way here Maisie It’s time to return to the sanatorium … In future we will make sure the door alarm is activated’ 10~19~15 N/A in previous contest Submitted to screwed XI Sponsored by Rob Carmack Sponsor Nathan D

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
i do not have the power to control what haunts beneath night's sheets nor the courage to send them packing from the depths of my mind nor the words to bid them farewell nor the freedom to learn how i am trapped my mind cries remembrance, the apple of your eye hides within a bushel of pain as a worm crawls circles around my life i long for a peck from warm lips not cold, stiffed imperfect ones like death's my lips peel beneath the folds of rare smiles and whispers of words from seeded pain my soul cries out in silence beneath the folds of life its bitter bite and darkness uncontrolled

Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
One memory, found, has cradled this moment,
exquisitely composed with infinite detail.
Once lost with disease,
it is briefly retrieved,
just for this moment, before it is gone.

She smiles as she holds it,
as if it has pleased her,
a small golden flashback
to fondle awhile.

It came from the darkness,
like a small shaft of light,
on a small mote of dust
that has tumbled in flight

Poised in the sunlight
it has cradled the moment
But, then is forgotten
while it falls out of sight
back into the shadows
that cradle the night


________________________________________________
7/5/16
Contest: Cradling the Moment
Sponsor: Julia Ward

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
I feel the wayward wind,
Whispering softly to me.
It comes unbidden but then
So many events came unbidden.
The wind  promises me an after life,
It threatens death forthwith.
I dare to walk forward,
Meet my ultimate dreadful destiny
Be it sorrow or love
Success or mere defeat.
The path is etched too murky,
The horizon masked in gloomy mist
Hidden from me with such painful cruelty,
With sinister shadows and shameful secrets,
Neurotic dreads and bitter tears.  
 
The wind taunts me with unbidden memories,
Misdemeanours of my heinous past,
Indiscretions and controversial injuries
Inflicted indiscriminately
On my fellow countrymen.
The wind just maledicts me
Gives me no solace nor space.
 
It reminds me of that lovely day
When we wandered o'er the hills,
Where wild fragrant thyme incensed
The graceful countryside.
The wind had breezed through
Your silken hair and
Sparkled your luscious eyes.
Now you are gone forever, my dear,
While I lament your loss,
Try to forget the dirty past 
And hope for God's forgiveness
Though I know I deserve none. 

11 September 2017

Placed 3

POTD 12 September 2017

Form U - U Pick The Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
I smile at you From deep within the folds of consciousness Where, they say, no recognition does exist I feel your hands and hear your voice And smile at you I see you While drip drips to moist my burning eyes There is no vision, nothing to recognize they say I see your face, observe the glance of sadness And see you I hear you From deep within whirling clouds of mist Where no sound penetrates they say I feel your familiar voice resonate in me And hear you I am here Whatever they say is not true, I am here Do not give up on me and watch me wake For one day I will look at you and hold your hand And be here *** Edited and reposted poem (c) Copyright Darren White December 12, 2017

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
"Dear Time"
Thank you for being patient, 
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls. 
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been 
   Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, ----- REMINISCING!
Sorry, if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying to remember, who I AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be, 
Is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe 
how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face 
Tell stories reminding my readers,
 Where I've been and come from
How consistent, and fortunate I've been, 
Babbling about my past, present, and future; 
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
 
Dear Time,
"Growing from young to old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with_____ Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please listen, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time -- once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry, food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' make me wear?
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty brownish red hair
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology, 
   When everything came with "ON and OFF" buttons.
Time understand what I go through, my legs never felt this tired 
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path, 
I lose track of time when navigating my toes

Dear Time, 
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see more
Time,  allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....

Dear Time, 
Thanks for having patience.

Sincerely Yours 
The Little Old Lady Across the Street

by: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Red roses true
Skies so blue
Lovers doing what lovers do
Chocolates and confessions
of eternal love
Building up hopes and dreams

I, behind the counter
At the ripe old age of 69
Watch all the youth
Filled with hope and desire
Love is like clouds in the carefree sky
They all stare and thrust
Hoping to latch onto a dream

Reality is not so kind
Illusions die on the ides
Kisses left unfulfilled
Roses with more thorns than hope
Wine so sour, blood is in flavor

Ah, but for now they are all happy
Holding hands and bouquets
Pink roses and red carnations
The road they know not to damnation

Who am I? To spoil a dream
Who am I? To laugh when they scream
You see love was a knife
That murdered me long, long ago


I may breathe, but the death possessed me
The life all but left me
So tonight as lovers kiss and fondle
I wish them well, from far over yonder
I kicked out the chair
The rope taunt and tight
As my last breath
Whispered to my long lost love
Good night

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I believe you
to be a vision, fading,
only a reflection of the
warmth I used to feel.
Today my memory of you
locked away within a
clenched mind, like grains
of sand perpetually
slipping through the cleft
of time. A memory scattered
along the highway of
despondent souls, soon
to be washed away by
the rising tide of oblivion!

Copyright Harry J Horsman 2010

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Cherry wood accents, glass entombed precious moments captured, enshrined antique curio cabinet, bring me back in time that porcelain doll, great gram's pearl painted piercing eyes still reflecting her love thoughts of Mimi, now in heaven above that vintage mantle clock, octagonal design all the years sitting on Dad's desk, can't remember the last time it ticked, but I still recall the nights watching you hard at work sitting and pondering over a pile of bills and letters oh how those days were so much better there are many different figurines and collector plates I can't even recall what they are there for But there is one picture I just can't get past I often stop and just stare wishing you were still here the little playful smile always lighting up a room when you walked in those deep caramel eyes, able look past all the smoke and mirrors deep into someone's soul oh how I long to hold oh how I long to feel oh how I long to be be one with you again

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
It was a lovely little house.

Built of white painted timber,

with a gabled roof clad in green tin,

it had never been a rich person's house.

It was her house. 

And driving up to park outside it,

each time I went there, 

was like the beginning of a new adventure.

I would always enter by the rickety side gate

and walk through that small garden she tended to on weekends, 

in the hope that one day it might become beautiful.

The back door gave entry to her tiny kitchen where,

sometimes she would be,

baking scones or some other treat for her and me

to have later with some coffee or cheap red wine.

It wasn't a well designed house.

The bathroom and lavatory and laundry

weren't where you might expect.

And most rooms were very small. 

But for the living cum dining room.

And her bedroom. 

I never counted all the rooms in that house.

I'm not certain I even saw all of them.

But all of those I did see 

were furnished and decorated with pieces that she

had shopped for at garage sales

and in second hand shops.

Except for those things that she had made herself.

There were pictures she painted,

and other hand crafted knick-knacks.

And some bottles filled 

with interesting vegetable matter

embalmed in colourful oils and such.

It was a small house and a little quaint.

But beautiful.

And warm. 

Her bedroom was of a good size 

and her bed was large and sumptuous,

with a profusion of richly coloured cushions and pillows.

We'd discovered one another in that large bed,

in that good sized bedroom,

in that warm little house,

that still warms me with it's memories. 

For there was nothing inside that house

that she had not chosen.

Copyright © Red OMara | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The minute our eyes met it was love at first sight I knew you were the perfect one for me my parents tried to keep us apart but I simply couldn’t let you go My father tried to persuade me are you really sure he’s the one? It’s not too late to change your mind… I smiled my sweetest smile - Dad knew when he was beaten I skipped out of the toy shop .... nestling in my arms, my birthday teddy bear! Contest –Free Verse Love Poem Sponsored By Laura Loo 07~24~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Remember that time Oh that smile that beautiful smile that little playful smirk tugging at my shirt waiting for me to ask you to dance That little blue skirt Cashmere sweater Your cheeks, bright red rouge batting your long silk eyelashes at me You were a flirt Remember that time My hands so clammy My heart a flutter Finally asking you to dance You took my hand Squeezing so tight Oh you were the perfect sight How can I not remember or can I ever forget that midnight blue polo shirt and that baseball hat It seems not long ago I wore flowers in my hair Ahh, that lavender breeze Close by, a carousel You raised your brow many a time I swear I caught you stare It seems not long ago but it's been thirty years or so when your steady hand got hold of my own And i never let it go I can still recall that winsome grin and butterflies churning within You asked me if I wanted to dance Stole my heart away and put me in a trance It seems not long ago but its been thirty years or so Your tremerous hand got hold of my own and I never let it go, no i never let it go

Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2014

Details | Blank verse |
May the first is traditionally the beginning of Spring
St Joseph is their patron saint this day to be 
the  only free day when no workers  joined
the throng of people shuffling looking already tired
to wherever they work, eyes down still shut tight
Make them work  long hours you will find
was their bosses right.

May Day the food was prepared with what money they had
try to find some newish clothes to wear, 
though second or third hand.
Their beautiful daughters would wash their hair 
then brush it until it gleamed 
a small flower was placed with utmost care

A maypole is  placed in the village square
With bright coloured  ribbons dangling there
The fiddler would play, soon up stepped the gents
follwed by the maidens, with no lover as yet
They weaved and they bobbed shouting with glee
Many a romance started when they danced happily

At the side the morris men would dance
Jiggling their bells sending you into a trance
All made for a happy day, set in your memory
making you smile for another year 
before a day free

The may queen was chosen some blushing young beauty
Crowned with a ring of flowers and a small bouquet
She would dance for the people in a small ring
waiting to see who wrote and would recite the winning madrigal

May first brings the spring and buds bursting into flowers
A trillion small petals like a shower would flutter down
the myriad it makes brings a smile to your eyes
Cheers everybody it's spring, 
our bodies need this time to relax and survive



Penned 10 April 2015

 

* madrigal. -  a short love poem 


Picture taken by an old friend Dave Chang who gave me permission to use it.





Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

I savour silence and my solitary dreams, my wanderings
and in my candlelit room, I withdraw 
to my secret place and you
I have put on our wedding dance music
and I am travelling back, back in time with a sigh
I know what comes next and I want to weep with love
my dress is a cloud of red chiffon flowing, flowing
and you my darling, are in a black suit
soft the jazz music drifting in my meditation
did I put that music on or did it just come to me
you whisper in my ear, besome mucho, and I turn the page
back, back, I turn back the pages
we swirl onto the dance floor, twirling and dipping perfectly
and the red chiffon is beauty 
kiss me my darling your whisper or is that the music
your strong arms hold me tightly, oh I remember
and we are spinning, spinning, spinning
then the music is loud like thunder, roaring
  and you are fading
      our hands slipping
          then our fingertips
              and still we are spinning
                 until you are gone and I am alone
                            yet the music goes on and on

and in my candlelit room, I take a deep breath . . . 


__________________________________
February 5, 2016

Free Verse/my solitary wandering
Copyright Protected, ID 752594


July Standard Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand

Second Place
___________________________________
Submitted to the contest, Solitary Moments
sponsor, Mystic Rose

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
daybreak grounds me
the horizon blushes
an end to night's passion
as the dawn unfolds my dreams

it seems
you own my mind
all my thoughts tumble
like autumn leaves
in winded breaths
whispered through darkness

i dance gracefully 
in memories of you
blushed with a desire
i cannot explain
and linger
in the afterthoughts
as day breaks

Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
I’m staring at the reflection in the mirror - who is the lady with the grey hair? Today a strange man came to visit me I do not recognise him … He says he is my son I try hard to remember as we talk about the past He shows me photographs of his childhood years Memories come back to me; I sob bleeding tears Dementia is robbing me, my recall is fading fast That man has now gone Saying he will visit soon Tears flow from my eyes Trapped in my own little world I sit sobbing silently Kimo and Tanka checked with how many syllables Challenge one write Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings 08~31~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Frightend children under the baobab
Of elders discourse playing
At the deep edge of rites
Of passages
With no Atlantic dream.

There is a beauty here
Before the other world began
Forgetting its origin
And taste
Of white milk in black breast
Beautifully caressing
The tongue
Outside the jaws of greed.

The time of pyramids
Lolling 
On the golden sands
Full with the jewels of history
Civilizations gone
And dead sphinx to come
To Alexandria dreaming
Far from the distant 
Wonders of Timbuctu.

And after all that gain
Suddenly a flood
Of nothingness
Carrying totems
Of laughed animism
On children's head 
Like weed.

Stale rum sizzling
In the heat
Of deception
Crackle lies
The missionary and prelates of doom
Smile when the boom
Behind us burst
Crankling chains
Move to the shackle of the feet
The heart coffled
To the suddeness of defeat
Stared at the deception
That could not win
Without the foul
Practices bred in smoke filled bars
Of cold desolate 
places making a wave.

We come
From banks of river
Surety to insurance companies
For new ships
That carry us promisary notes 
Of golds to cotton and cane 
Replacing the earth hidden
Treasures
In a mother's bowels
We come 
Dying 
To change the mosaic to come
Into a place
Where you know may know
I am
The father of the race.

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


When night’s candles wax in the breeze, a glow draws near while dear ones are far I would scan places some miles away For in reveries they bask among the skies. So warm with wonder, bright with charm Could I but fix them beneath moon’s hues, Who do not let affections stray through time far beyond all limits of season's rails Many Miles Away Contest.. Roger Horsch by nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes
I forget his name
there are cavities 
in love too

dark gaps 
in the cracking heart
where aching
doubt and memories 
pulsate.


© Gry W Christensen

Copyright © Gry Christensen | Year Posted 2014