Verse Nostalgia Poems

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

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Details | Free verse |
I remember you, from when there was a spring When the seasons were ripe, with verdant green Our nimble feet danced in the wind and on the brink of everything Not a furrow in the brow of youth We borrowed life for just awhile and tapped our shoes on childhood's stage where carefree laughter was the rage that filled each age with promised smiles We danced and twirled a twin ballet just you and me on summer's waves Two pirouettes, in mode of curls of blossoms, frilled, and tender leaves unfurled in winds, we found a way to soar our wings, above the world We knew not yet of death or dying or of regret, or cause for crying But, something frowned upon the season You caught the wind, and without reason A colder wind that kept you flying far beyond my eyes could see And to the other side you disappeared beyond my words beyond my tears Now here alone I touch the day and taste the night remembering I will walk alone, in autumn sun And lay myself on dying leaves I think of you and think of then I feel the wind against my face that sweeps me to a distant place where I recall what time erased I'm closer now... to hear the sound The whisper of the seasons calling Above the trees, the sky is blue I think of you, and feel the breeze And all the while, the leaves must fall
9/4/13 ....................................................................................................... Sponsor: Laura Loo Contest: BEST SAD POEM EVER II

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

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 |
“Stardust Road.”

"Soft defense is driven by my thoughts,
I vanish away into yesterday’s scenic road,
Set the mood among the dark clouds,
Wish I could go back to the night, of fourteen and cold.
Tell me not to look up and cover myself with the world.

Sorry I could not stay, 
One too many excuses & lies,
To where they never fixed themselves;
I could not handle the air,
I had to breathe right the cold nights that followed. 
I stood as one in love, under the starry sky…
Young and alone, I left the never-ending vindictive feeling.
The dust slept every reason inside my soul.
I travel the world, snoozing with the magic of the sand.
Stars that echo and drop twinkles to my walking toes.
The horizon was my blanket and shield
Where the light and night I wore, 
Accelerating, escaping no more justification! 
"Oceans of excuses sailed through my soul, 
Heartbroken, but in love with defiance toward the stardust novelty. 

With a sigh!
I hesitate not to look back,
Somewhere the ages turn to rust: 
Old and grey, all alone,

The leaves I stepped on then are trample and gone.
One day I shall return for the proper goodbye.
For now, I must travel down this lonely road silently.
Slowly my heart will heal itself, nurturing the frozen sleet away.
Releasing the 14-year old girl at last,
In a body a mind and soul, 
Confronting her with an, I BELONG HELLO!”


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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 | Free verse |
Leaning against the warmth of old oak, I recall your sun burnt skin that summer. As I let my fingers linger on the side of the bench where you used to sit, a memory - like noon day’s sun light, seeps into my senses. A light wind ruffles my hair at the nape of my neck, that same spot you liked to kiss. You said we were royals as we scattered bread crumbs for our loyal subjects. Where have those pigeons gone? I lift my face to sky and close my eyes, breathing in the scent of nearby roses; suddenly something tickles my cheek! Opening my eyes, I see a Monarch butterfly, its color that of your sun burnt skin.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

This is too complex; i mean the throbbing wound grating my belly on a dappled day, a day breathing of tender winds and violins. Perhaps, the strains of notes shuttle me back to my grandfather’s library sitting on books and archaic telescopes. Here, we would empty the shoulders from a rough sail; he scattering fiddle songs on painted walls… the mellow notes tasted like hints of vanilla scent warmed by cadences of burning musical passion as his eyes , half-closed ,melted the noise of an anxious world, of teary wrongs. ‘Bathe in the splendor of the night,’ he mused, submitting to a trance smitten by some refrains of Moonlight Serenade… and my rubber spine would bend with the flesh of his vibrating hands; violin strings weeping till we drowned in holy streams. Now, I feel these undefined memories… the phantom of light exhumed his lust for old charm; and my eyes fall on the alley of roaming vagueness. I could have loved him more than heaven plucking his strings so soon, uninvited. Nayda Ivette Negron's Memories Contest

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
I recall a dirty sidewalk
running in front of grandma's house
with bumps and cracks from the roots
of ancient white oaks

Meandering down to the levee
with cane poles and sack lunches
crickets and freshly dug earth worms
Barefoot in careless summers

I recall one low spot 
beneath a straggly Chinaberry 
filled with pitch-black delta dirt
washed in by summer rains
Shuffling through and digging down
burying our toes

Often now I recall
when the heavens are shrouded in grief
when darkness closes at the edge of vision
I recall a porch light flicking on in the distance
I recall grandma’s trembling soprano calling
calling me back home

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013

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
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
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 
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

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.

for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

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

Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.

The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels  busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.

Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.

We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.

The roof  we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.

With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.

We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.

Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.

The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.

As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.

It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
In one brief moment
you saw me as I am
without a word spoken
palm open for my hand.

Nary a harp string plucked
silence graced the air
silhouettes became one
my heart I laid bare.

Candle wicks were unlit
full moon a distant past
my emerald eyes glowed
your love echoing back.

Fire  our skin to skin heat
scent unique unto us
not a flower in bloom
our souls we gave in trust.

In one brief moment
you saw me as I am
the memory of each breath
my bliss I'll always have.


Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic Verse |
There was no doubt I was seeing double
Vinny poured another glass
I actually think it was whiskey
There we sat, at the back of the Angelos Steak and Kill
The joke wasn’t lost on many
The joint was dark and filled with smoke
Each booth offering up its own unique privacy

Never an evening went by
That some devious plot or plan wasn’t being hatched
Tonight was no different
Vinny laid it all out on a napkin
He told me revenge is bitter sweet
Tomorrow night we would feast on the bitter and the sweet
I had no doubts
I was ready to prove my worth
I was ready

Well the next night came faster than a hangover
Eight of us left in two cars 
We had a shot of grapa, only that
The Capone said we needed all are wits about us tonight, and then some
Now no one could argue that, and no one would

Laughter and bravado go hand in hand
We arrived on the side street, where one lone doorman 
Was smoking his life away
Little did he know, how soon that fag would be his demise
One shot to the head, and blood spurted 
The water fountain of death
Began its dance

In went Vinny in the lead and me right on behind
One doesn’t waste time with fancy introductions
We were there to deliver the red blood of revenge
Sweet death served to order, and we followed orders
The dinnerware and glasses shattered, wine became blood
Made men fell, bullets tangoed uniting the living with the dead

A blood bath
There are no other words to explain
The dead danced with our bullets and fell onto the now red carpet
Revenge was served, they said bitter sweet
Me, I fell to my knees
Vinny he looked over with an uncomprehending stare

The waitress serving drinks
Was shot right through the heart, it was my bullet
That murdered my finance
For me this revenge was to be only bitter
Dazed I lay, in a pool of blood, hers

Sirens in the distance
Vinny yelling, get the hell up, get the hell up
There was no heaven or up for me
I was as good as dead
They left
I crawled over to her

Tears clouded my vision
I laid my head upon her breast
Entwined in agony, within the grasp of reaper
I caressed her soft hair, I kissed the sour blood of my sins
My enemies in death, served me my own poison

She put a finger to her lips
She whispered shhhhhhhh
I whispered back, with my now black heart

Be my
Funny valentine

She smiled softly and died

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Gary's Yard Sale, the story
                                                  Authored by Chuck Keys

Among the rustbelt cities of yesterday,
Along the edges of the Detroit River,
A short distance to the side,
Resides a slice of Victorian times,
Excesses exceeded needed, 
Where age confronts time,
The day before meets the day of,
And greets tomorrow.

Those in the hood
And outside,
Meet and greet among 
The scraps of forgotten memories.
Lawns filled with bygones of size,
Tables filled with important somethings,
Maybe everythings,
For important that evolved into history.

Where memories become linked,
Each to a stored thought,
Treasured, pleasured or disdained,
To a person,
Of late or present,
To a future of who knows what.

During the day,
The history-of and the future-of talk,
To each,
Of where they were,
And where they hope to be,
The dust is blown off with the wind,
From the east, west, north and south.

The yard sale, the graveyard of the past,
The arena of the present,
Life and death of the sale,
Dance together, coupled,
Where Mine, becomes Yours' while
Gary the Conductor, orchestrates to perfection,
The operatic enjoyment of history,
Buyer meets seller, exchanges
Are made.  As is today.
Bravo! Bravo!

*This poem is dedicated to Gary and Ann Harris of Northville MI USA – May they and 
their Yard Sales age forever!

© Charles H Keys, 2010.  All Rights Reserved.  V1.4.09252010

Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
it got written in the sunshine
in the late eve
in the cool breeze
it got written in the moment

it got written on a swing
on a deserted beach
a most curious thing
it got written in the moment

it got written on the sand
where the seaweed washed upon the land
without a plan
it got written in the moment

it got written where the waves of the bay lap like static
and I can hear the metal grinding of a windmill
over the sound of that cool breeze in my ears
it got written in the moment

it got written watching a seagull doing a fly-by
watching me, squawking at me
like an impatient child wanting me to give it something
it got written in the moment

it got written under a big blue sky
on a distant coastline
close to where I now live
it got written in the moment

it got written while I waited
while we lived apart but worked together for our future, fated
when we again would be mated
it got written in that moment

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
A giant snowball in springtime
From twenty yards out the sound and smell
Closer now; breathing her numbing scent
Listening to the drowsy hum
of greedy and jealous bees
forced to share her bounty
with Tiger and Zebra Swallowtails
School will be out soon...

Memorizing every branch within reach
Her limbs are just low enough
for a boy to scramble up quickly
fleeing imaginary monsters
still lurking and prowling below
Taking ignorant and blissful advantage
of this daughter of the wild; his protector
His big sister to run to...

Shiny and slippery black bark
that oozes burgundy sap
which dries in animal shapes
Summer twilight is coming
Bats twittering overhead
chasing nasty mosquitoes
A noise echoing from far off
A door slamming maybe...

Tucked safely away in his favorite pew
(Naughty boy, eating during church!)
sampling her forbidden fruit
sweet and sour...half is seed
Thieving Blue Jays get the most
Screaming and scolding arrogantly
yet flying away unpunished
Grannny will make jelly...

Oh everlasting Father, creator of all things
He knows that heaven is far beyond the grasp
of a feeble and fumbling mortal mind
But when You decide to send Your beloved Son
back to rule the earth for one thousand years
If he is judged worthy to be in that count
May one humble servant say if it's like this
that would be just fine...

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
Of the Gods own country of this paradise where green and blue merge as one in the north is a city that encompass the beauty where the dream lands meet lined by kaasaraka trees where seven tongues are spoken and a unique lingo was woken lined by shores and calm beaches which meets with forts of ancient elegance who can pass by with no notice the mountains high and hillocks of beauty forests green and tranquil rivers places of worship, unique structures renowned for coir and handloom and for its customs varied The people here, with a smile of warmth welcoming with open arms known for their variety dishes which does prick ones tastebuds of the sense of fashion who can beat their passion and their thirst for knowledge is to be acknowledged fame it has know from times of yore of the arts and culture it beholds this is the city of budding talents feel the vibe and do relent © Nadiya(14 May '15)
*Chosen poem of the day on 16 May 2015

Copyright © poesy relish | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
Down south of a dirty delta town
after double-winged dusters sweep low
White hats, bent backs and bloody hands
sway to the rhythm of summer snow fields
Backed by a choir of ten thousand crickets
reaching up to touch heaven with a song

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
The amber light, through window glass
like time itself, shines much the same
Some things change, but some remain
Tonight's full moon still knows her name 

Her silken hair, her porcelain neck
a strand of pearls, a diamond clasp
I find them now, within my grasp
They bask within the timeless past

With envy now, the night is awed
Covetously, it fondles rows
of tiny orbs, which, one by one
are miracles, with moons, within

I hold the pearls within my palm
and think of old Glenn Miller songs
and mother dancing long ago
She wore them like another skin
back, long before my life began

A grain of sand, then pearls become
A part of her, ....    a part of me

So fragile, weak the thread is bare
as if the sun might gaze too long
a tarried glaze, the string would fray
and pearls would fall and roll away

Perhaps such things meant to be
Each miracle, has just a while
Glenn Miller songs have come and gone
I'll put away the pearls for now
so moon can own the night again

A 1st in PD's Contest: 101 In A Row ...Contest Finalized 7/23/16.... 
Resubmitted For Laura Loo's Contest: Any First Place Poem
To hear Glenn Miller's rendition of "String of Pearls" click on the following youtube site:...

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |
In mid-June's heat, we wait inside the bus, 
and everyone has said their last goodbyes.  
The Moorish boy I’ve come to know is sad.
 He says he knows I never will return.  

The bus pulls out (his face just fades away).
We pass through streets that now seem not the same
as those that we first rode down when we came
here six short months ago. It seemed so strange!

Madrid, my first impression of you was
how everything seemed  dingy and so grey.
But staying here, I found your treasures, and
enjoyed your many charms that I unearthed.

I’ve walked among your people, tasted foods:
paella, soups and pastries and much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on your streets and in museums.

I’ve visited your shops, your restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize, 
your ring for fighting bulls, your theaters;
your streets seem now familiar, almost sweet!

The group I came with, now like family,
chat happily about their going home.
But I alone am missing you, Madrid,
before I even board that giant bird.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Here, just by chance, we're caught, in the shade
staring, surprised, into eyes of the past
while watching the ducks as they circle the pond
It seems they are hands on a clock sweeping time
where silence is gentler,... because now we are friends

Today, on this bench, lost men will linger, 
while waiting for nothing, and no place to go
Once we had claimed this 'our' place to hold hands,
planning a future that never began
Children we were with the world at command
I'm glad we aren't talking in circles,   .. like then

Other children are playing in the rust afternoon,
zippered up tight, against winter wind
Talking of tell me there's two 
You show me a photo,…then, I share a few

I am all out of bread, as the sun starts to fade
taking away all the stains of the day
East of the bandstand shadows grow long, 
falling in corners like memories do

We've learned to know twilight can be bittersweet
And taste what dim recall has only allowed
Goodbyes are said, and you then, kiss my cheek, ..
then you turn and you wave, as you are crossing the street

Left wondering now, where those lost men will go,
it worries my brow, what lost men will eat
A shadow of you, is still left in the park, …
of us holding hands, as it starts to get dark
I leave a few dollars here, on our bench
Checking my watch,… I will leave no regrets


When Love Reckons For A Second Time Contest 
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When you hug someone you love and instantly your knees get weak….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When someone whom you truly love looks deeps into your eyes and
Suddenly the rest of the world disappears….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like
when someone you love kisses you on your lips and
suddenly you feel butterflies creeping in your stomach…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Getting intimate with someone and wishing it would never end
Wanting more…..

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Being in love…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like putting my feelings on paper
Until I remembered what it feels like Loving you…..

Dedicated to My Soul Mate....

Copyright © Marlies Agdomar | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Decades stretched a cord, across years, up the stairs, and around chairs coiling beyond the door of one small room, groomed by the sun, of a Saturday afternoon... I am floating on a sea of a hardwood floor Prone, on my back, upon a lavender rug Examining the nail of my left hand thumb with a phone at my ear, a smile on my face while you've glady expressed, how you've aced an exam I confess how I've missed holding your hand only linked to your kiss, by a small ivory phone With a ring on my finger, to bind young love Blinded in the eyes, from an innocent throne Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold There was a cake on order, and a brand new world You were glued to my ear, I was wrapped by a cord that tugged on the wall, with long-distance words Light from the yard is scored by the blinds but, there on the floor, prone on my back, I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives Linked to your voice, where a future was wound Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood, I had a pillow of shag, of that lavender rug The days would stretch shorter and our vows, on hold till the cord became stronger, watching years unfold

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
In my grandpa’s field I stand midst rows of grain whose gray-green blades stir softly in the moaning wind. A night chill permeates my skin. I look down at my arms and legs and realize I’m a little girl again! How did I get here? Why am I now standing here in the dark of night? Far ahead of me, I see the old worn farmhouse. Moon, big and golden, seems to have left the sky. It’s reappeared at the window of my grandparent’s old house, where it glows with a mesmerizing light eerily beckoning me. I stand transfixed, not knowing what to do. Is this a dream? It has to be! Grandma sold that house when grandpa died. I’d seen it one more time remodeled and repainted and with another owner’s name. The house I’m seeing now is the old one from my childhood. Many things from long ago are coming to my mind: The fields where my sisters and I frolicked in the summers; the long dirt lane we skipped happily along; the berry bushes along many pathways we discovered; the hollyhocks we learned how to make cute dollies from. It was daylight when I knew the farm back then. Sun was high in the sky. Now I’m only seeing the eerie glow emanating from grandpa’s house. . . I awaken to the darkness of a winter morning’s gloom, vaguely remembering a vanished moon which turned up on the face of my grandparents’ old farmhouse as if to beckon me back to my childhood. But somehow I knew (even while asleep) that to near that house and then to go inside it would not be the stuff of happy dreams. There was a reason for the coldness of the night, the moaning of the wind. The summer days have fled. Between the nightmare and the dream, subconsciously I knew you simply cannot go home again. For the Dreams (poems about dreams)Poetry Contest of Royal Ninja

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again


Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
Have you ever woken up feeling like a kid 

With angels dropping cotton candy on your soul 

When knocks on doors reveal no steps in snow 

And shooting stars have white beards and presents? 

I get lost sometimes under goose feathers and it feels good, 

Broken speakers squeak Christmas Carols 

There are no clocks on walls, only the rhythm of pine logs in the fireplace 

It smells of the forest I used to fly with horses, 

No saddles, no hats, no shoes, no wolves... 

Just practicing tying my shoelaces and sitting up straight for life... 

I watch her reflection secretly pray in a room made especially for us... 


It's warm, pupils - two mirrors of colorful lights on a plastic tree...

Iolanda Scripca copyright  2010

Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
If only...I could start over again.
Took that job in Memphis and stayed away from so-called-friends. 
     If only...I could right the wrongs.
Find the perfect songs and make you giggle all night long.
     If only...My wager would have been on the winning team.
But life is mean and I lost everything.
     If only...I would have turned the other cheek.
You can't walk down a street without a coward preying on the weak.
     If only...I would have turned left instead of right.
An automobile accident plus the loss of my eyesight.
     If only...I could travel back in time.
Do things differently and have peace of mind.
     If only...she were alive today.
My mother would shake her finger and say...
     "If only, If only, If only!"

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Strewn by knitted spines and a tail, with ribbons on its hair, bright flowing visions hover along an azure sky. Gracefully, the flight takes a diamond shape as if to roam away in some twirling prance. And as it slowly faded from sight, the little boy on the beach giggled and tugged the braided loop calling his paper wing, “ Come back; I’ll have to pull you in.” But it waved on like an entranced sail kissing the clouds; till near dusk marked the rising moon…quietly, he rested on the sand to gaze at the breezy sky again; this time a bit aware the kite he handmade and loved won’t come back… for it is up above where its home belongs. ~ New Year Premiere Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse |
From somewhere far beneath,
My father's face is rising to replace my own.
Each year the brightly silvered surface of my mirror
Reveals some other common feature
Pushing its way to the fore.

The silver of the years finds its way
Into the hair retreating at the same rate;
Years marching forward as the hairline marches back
In lockstep time. What's left shines
With the wintry distinction of age.

Whose eyes are these that now look out
From beneath my brow? Are these the eyes that watched my child in sleep,
Or now those elder eyes that watched over me so long ago?
And what self is that at rest behind my silvered temples,
That rests its thoughts so heavy on these things?

Photos of the two of us together
Show the kinship of expression
The matching etchings of experience
That leave no doubt
As to the common blood by which we're bound.

I can no longer view myself
Without his prescence being there as well;
Moreover, the image of his father
Shows the like upwellings in him.

The visage of the man who came before
The three of us I've never seen;
But I deem it probable there was little difference,
And so back this face we share may go, ad infinitum.

Every face is a story
Of the life and its ways that shaped it.
This being so, I cannot help but feel ennobled
By the lines and lessons which have been passed to me.
This is the face I shall carry
From now to the end of my days.

My I tend it, and wear it, well.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2007

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 | Free verse |
I remember you
cartoon smile and egg-shaped head.
Do you remember
how the rainbow formed on the water,
how the neon lights flickered,
or the scent of nectarines on your forehead?
They were happy to see for the first time
behind glass window,
between speaker box voices --
unopened package,
untouched collector’s item,
you shiny new contraption,
star of the play,
hero of the hour, 
flavor of the season.

Seed of your father,
soil of your mother.
Fruit of love,
fruit of conflict.
Decision’s aftermath,
delusion’s consequence,
Are you accident,

Bough in the river,
wrenched in the current.
Hand reaching for hand,
hand holding your own.
Bedlam baby with the guilty smile
do you remember
how you would not fracture the  mullioned frame,
how you could not shatter porcelain,
or how you hid in changing alleys?

I will save you
you will save me.
My hand in yours.
I am the boat
you are the journey.

Copyright © Ryan Caidic | Year Posted 2006