Get Your Premium Membership

Best Blast From The Past Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Blast From The Past poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of blast from the past poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Blast From The Past poems, articles about Blast From The Past poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Blast From The Past poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

View all new Blast From The Past Poems

The Best Blast From The Past Poems

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Lucy Natio and Prophecy

A Lucy Natio and Prophecy

Lucy seized the moment when her body cramped and rattled her 
                weary bones

Shaken stirred right to the core her tiny muscles tore at  innocent 
The taste of cold blood cut loose from her tongue infused an aroma of 
Surely magic mushrooms again in that cup a soup from the ethnic 
Just around the corner where the vagrants hustle hell bent sliding from 

Her eye balls popped as she dangled from one optic nerve lost in vivid 
Conviction smelt corrosive when all senses colluded in cumbersome 
Trumpets of aura and aural sensation blasted tubes and pathways in 
All very touching a touch down between pillars and posts sending flash 

The journey lost mindfulness on auto pilot navigating when a fungal 
A plastered pasted  brain in miraculous certainty cut and copied hung out 
Did she really pee in her body armored nighty or was it the lust of all 
Lucy’s sky turned coal into diamonds when trips turned into oases of 

Perception had tricked her and what appeared to be hallucinations were
A dream of subconsciousness dealing and wheeling a treacherous 
‘If sobriety gives me those feelings without any drug infused images I 
Stick to true nature of senses’ she thought and collected the devilish 

Sensorial delusions as purely some flash back some blast from the past 
Straight to the fore in a forum of distortion when Lucy acknowledged that 
Can deceive and that hallucinating about hallucinations stretched her
Infinite limits or was the story one of seeking shelter from her fucked up 

Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2018

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Born to the sea

Born to the sea

Mind of water, flowing thoughts;
The currents beneath your words could change us all.
River heart, born to the sea;
The solace we seek waves to you and to me.

Join me on this voyage, over water, to a new land.
All hands on deck chairs are temporarily in the sand.
Cast ashore to repair our vessel,
But soon we shall cruise again, so hoist that sail.

Raise it so high, that the crow's nest will not be our peak
And the land dwellers will be the last people that we would wish to meet.
My crew and I are setting off on an adventure;
A journey across the deep blue, to a land of mischief and wonder.

The undiscovered land, on the other side of a new life.
We be pirates, so we be; so raise that Jolly Roger flag upon high.
Let all who see our symbol know the story of our ship.
The unsinkable voyager; 
A blast from the past, blowing through the wind.

Raise the sails and let the wind take us in and move us on
And throughout the jagged edged cliffs and beyond!
And on past the mermaids that sit upon the rocks,
Singing such enchanting songs
And on past the things that they call ‘The Leviathan’.

Release the Kraken!  The foulest beast from the Gods up above
And we shall continue this trek into the darkest of the rum.
To the bottom of the barrel, right down to the Admirals eye.
Let the birds be our guide to our next paradise.

Land ahoy!  There be treasure there for sure;
So onward ya scurvy rats and be prepared to fight once more!
We are damned to forever sail, 
Since the life at sea swallowed our cursed souls;
Now we travel these high seas in search of more silver and gold.

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Past Present and Future

Yesteryear pasted so fast
I was in the moment
When I realized it was a
Blast from the past

Presently all is well
I’ve been working on
Staying out of the past and the future

I just need my man to stop 
Talking about those ladies at

The future, that right there
Keeps my hope alive
It’s so bright, the darkest
Of shade won’t protect my eyes


My life only represents this day
And I will rejoice and be glad in it

The past is a memory
The future a dream
The present is everything!

My present can make the future run forward
And my present can make the past run backwards
All I have to do 

Is hold the space bar for the future
And hold the back space for the past

That’s how I can enjoy the now
With one prodigious laugh

Copyright © Lara Wash | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Lord will I ever win

The clouds are rolling in. 
As I think about my skin. 
Because I sin.
Will I ever win?
As my head spin.
I think about my twin.
It felt like a jab in the chin.
Will I ever win?
I'm in a closed pin.
Thinking of my sin.
Because I don't like men. 
Will I ever win? 
Because I'm gay.
Everyday I have a price to pay.
When I pray my clouds are gray.
But sin is sin. 
Screaming lord make me over again.
Looking through this mask.
A blast from the past.
Then I ask WHO'S CHOICE.
As my palms begin to get moist. 
Because I never played with girl toys. 
And always chose to run with the boys.
I'm crying tears of joy, but there is no noise.
My spirit has been destroyed, nobody wants to employ. 
I'm 19 with no babies, tierd of living my life off maybes.
My reflection in the mirror is now clearer.
But the smiles still bitter; to them I'm just a sinner.
But one day my goal is to be a winner. 
Until you know where a person been, never judge a person by their sin.
Lord will I ever win?

Copyright © Derrona Watts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Blast From The Past


Will their be a New Government
   Is this some kind of trick
        Will His name be Lucifer?
          The infamous' 666
               Fore we....
      Have been a fore warned
       Way back from the day'
       That their will be no ' GOD '
                  Before He..
       And that is the only way'
           That we shall see Him
                     On Calvary....
            And that it is to He
         That we must pray...

                        Gary Fields
                        Poet Author

copyright Apr2012

Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Blast From the Past

I was with you until I was ten, then the Lord came and took your hand;
Goodbye was hard to say, I was so young when you went away.
Time went on, abuse and pain, all my sunshine turned to rain;
My father's house was dark and cold, loneliness consumed my soul.

Then one day as I walked home, someone whispered, "your not alone!"
I stopped to look about, nothing there so I went on.
Once at my door, fear gripped my heart;
I could see my step-mom was drinking, there was a darkness, coming, creeping!

I hurried past her to my room, she followed me with doom and gloom;
then I saw what was in her hand, my heart sank like shifting sand!
She held a gun close to her side, there was a gleam of glee deep in her eyes;
she lifted it up to my head, my eyes on hers in deep concern,I collapsed upon my bed.

There was no sound, no light, no shout, but I could feel angels of God all about;
My heart it trembled deep inside, as my fear turned to courage, I could not hide.
I sat and faced death that day, and Jesus held me all the way;
Soon she dropped the gun back down, she couldn't do it, and without a sound;

she turned and crept away!
I was twelve years old that day!

Copyright © Sena Slaughter | Year Posted 2010

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

sad news from home

Brothers Levi, Jordan, Matthews, Joe and Jedden, 
You were sheer shocked as did Sister Hussein
That even this day we can still adjure, argue, advocate,
And advance active activism for the rule of law stolen,
As did Dr Manuele or Orton Chirwa before this date
Who blustered against the egalitarian promise broken;
Or as before them, Rev. Chilembwe’s burst with rage 
Being shocked and choked with downright disbelief 
At the atsamundas’ well premeditated prejudice cage; 
Segregation and Thangata, and such other mischief.
Brothers, that day of shock, you also shade sad tears,
Which many of us here have also done over the years
Seeing that even this day the gods had stolen the show;  
Not for good reasons, but for partying ragged ignorance
Of commoners: of clapping again, of praising as before, 
Egalitarian impotence these present day gods prance
As constructive criticism they castigate; at times cajole
With constipated wallets: aiming to gag, retch reprimand; 
As they throw all to keep the land in the hopeless hole
They had damned it in with their fresh oppressive wand.
Brothers, it is truly sad that even today we expostulate
As the present gods fancy people that do not remonstrate;
Sad they hate to hear the philosophy that does not blush
When it comes to slam their ‘big-man’ mind-set upfront
As was done to the past cruel gods in their groan, and gush
Of verbose at critics, who did not fear their haunt and hunt
But stood firm amidst the god’s aggressive intimidation, 
Jeer, jolly josh, lampoon, lies, lash outs, lectures or leer, 
Or needle and outrageous orates, aimed at the obfuscation
Of the commoners so they fail to question or query this *****
Performance of raging and ranting even this present day
To have this blast from the past, Brothers you saw, at play.

Copyright © Allan Kazembe | Year Posted 2014

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.



Date: Sat, Nov 7 2015 at 11:47 PM

All alone on this "Path"
But God with on my "Wrath"
Do the "Math"
This the Future of my "Past"
Blast from the "Past" the "Backlash"
This the Wrath of Israel and "Iran"
An "Baghdad" Pakistan an "Afghan"
"Syria" and "Libya" I'm the "Militia"
Bout to change the "Forecast"
"Packed" Bat "Bag" Full of "Drafts"
Of "Charts" and "Graphs" 
For the "March" to "Pass"
A Slave from "Africa" "Captured" to Become a "Ambassador" 
One of the Shamans "Factors"
Inside my mind is Visions in "Patterns"
This just a page out the "Chapter"
Speaking Justice amongst the "Attackers" amongst the "Massacres"
I'm created from Fossils of Ancient "Fragments" that was "Fractured"
A Scientific "Analysis" can't "Examined" a "Graphic" of this "Calculus"
This the Anger of "Ferguson"
In Trayvon Hoodie in a "Black" "Turban"
Or "Jihad" Shallot "Shalom" "Salaam" 
"Shabbat" Praying like the "Salat" while my hands "Burning" Inside "Flaming" Raging "Sermons" See I'm a "Servant" But upon "Observance" you couldn't tell in "Person" But you can tell by my "Wordings" Under Blessings and "Curses"
I hear Blood crying to me from under the "Surface" "Thirsting"  I'm certain I'm one of the "Worstest" with Wisdom in the "Churches"
Thats  not "Circuiting" 
That make these devils "Nervous" I'm standing on the stage behind the "Curtains"
Looking at the "Circus"
I'm "Determined" to "Nourishing" the Blind to "Furnishing"

Copyright © uriel wisdom | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THE RAVEN - Resolved

(With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe )  

Finding myself so berated, 
I muttered something syncopated, 
as seething and with burning eyes stormed I forth as on a secret chore. Returning answered well his gall 
for I, with no remorse at all, 
blew his feathered carcase through the wall. 
A wet flannel cleared the gore. 
"That's my trusty Purdey shotgun loaded with lead shot - twelve bore." 
This I said, and nothing more.  

Now when friends, in admiration, 
comment on my ventilation 
which dost somewhat harshly pierce the wall above that door, 
I gift the inspiration deemed 
to one whom talked less than he preened - 
to one whom since has not been seen, 
save in down upon the floor. 
"Visitor," I exclaim, smirking – “blast from the past, quite a bore!" 
This I say and nothing more.

Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Blast from the Past

I’m many years and miles away
From when I went to school.
Those days are tucked inside my brain
And stay there, as a rule.

But walking on the street today,
Right near where I reside,
My high school days and present ones
Did suddenly collide.

A man was strolling, looking down,
His sweatshirt boldly lettered.
I saw my high school name and
Memories became unfettered.

I asked him if he’d gone there
And his graduation date.
He beat me by ten years or so,
But we could still relate.

No matter where we go in life
And how much we’ve amassed,
We’ll never travel far enough
To leave behind our past.

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.


(Advanced people Living In an Enigmatic world under a Nation with a Stentorian voice.)

Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.

Hear me, as my mouth begins to expand 3inches wide, 3ft deep. Eyes wide awake to count to 1,000 sheep & you’ll be sleeping. In the end take the time to create a system whose actions can’t be duplicated where great steaks can’t be duplicated. Building “MY’ name in the air, in between these clouds.
Hearing the crowd scream “MY” out loud. How sweet it sounds hearing you name being shouted from the top of the balcony. Flashing screen lights screaming “Marry me, sexy!!!”

Craving out guitars from twigs, building white wigs from sheep wool. While we drown our sorrows in swimming pools, pull me out before I drown in my on intelligence. Pushing 88 into the future with a superior mind concept.

Hear me, as I roar,
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.

Hear me, as I build with no skills a behemoth monument. Where the whips are the teacher & the work was consider book-work. From Dusk to Dawn to your yawn is dead & gone. Wishing to be transported back to home. Home was now the place where the invalid escaped the punishment & the dead was the only one who got away from the marks. Sleep on hay or make a bed where you feel you should lay. Skin melts turning from light to where it’s impossible to see at night.

Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.

The time of living in caves felt more like living in cages. A limited option where the only catch is the cage is un-locked, not knowing where the next step will lead. Perform deeds to provide the FAM with feed. Sweet hams & candy yams brings hell of cavities, we perform better activities to stay active.

Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.

The Cool Breeze brings a measure of good ease. Changing topics better than the last High top fade coming back “A blast from the past”. From the liquid tree on every corner to the hungry anteater crawling over your quarter.

Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.

Confused on whom to choose, will this person act a fool or shine bright as a jewel? Big guns, small bullets, Gun-powered overflow, who will be the first one to go? Go down loud with a Big Bang and a POW. The nation is screaming WOW! How did it come to end with a #POW!! And everybody is wondering HOW?

Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
Hear me, as I tell a short un-thought of story never been told before.
Hear me, as I whisper a softly poetic poem as the cure to being a being among Otherworldly beings.

At the end of the day we are...

(Advanced people Living in an Enigmatic world under a Nation with a Stentorian voice.)


Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Befuddled Little Bride

A little befuddled bride could be heard crying on the hillside.

She huddled near a very brittle tree.

Muddling over the belittlement of her groom to be.

She ruddled her hair with anger.

Her piddling wasn’t solving anything.

She straddled her mare and took off in a gallop. 

Twiddling her way down the hillside.

The gallop slowed to a trot.

As the mare entered the country road. 

She veered the mare from a puddle of mud.

Trotting to the stables with her head hung high.

Why should I show shame when I  am not the blame.

It is the groom who dishonored me not my fame.

That’s my blast from the past.

He’s my blast into the future.

When I become his little befuddled bride.

Copyright © Patrica Bowen Salyers | Year Posted 2006

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Sundown on a January Sunday
a blast from the past caught me
by surprise although we have
been estranged someone could
of told me you died, now I am
in mourning regretting that we
never got to reconcile so but with
tears in my eyes on this cold, cold
January night in the shadow of
a full moons light I say I'm sorry
I know I could of been a better
son but a wild horse will run...
But now you can put your wings
up, put your wings up, put your
wings up and fly but please
daddy please don't forget me
over on the other side...
But put your wings up, put your
wings up, put your wings up 
and FLY, just go on and FLY
now FLY, just FLY!

Copyright © Bo Lanier | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Ye Ole Jalopy

Just saw a fancy new jalopy go by At least that's what we used to call 'em Guess the ad men would surely cringe Jalopy wouldn't cut it for them! With all of today's sexy new cars Jalopy is a blast from the past The pace of life was much slower then Less frantic and surely not as fast! Any of you remember “rumble seats”? Wonder why they called them so 1939 was the last time we saw them Gone with those silent movie shows! But the reality is there's no going back We're stuck in this frantic new world One which no longer has time for niceties My mind's in a tizzy and a whirl! I take solace in knowing in coming years Today's technology and texting Will be just as passe as the old jalopy The future will be even more perplexing! ?Just saw a fancy new jalopy go by ?Traveled back to another time and place Enjoyed the much simpler things in life At a slower and less frantic pace! © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Bamboo Lady

I awoke to the pressure
Pushing me inward this morning.
Sticky. Moist air immersing me
In sodden memories.
Blast from the past.
Humid awakenings from a life
No longer mine.
Rusty time.

Displaced. Confused. Spinning.
The shoe and not the foot.
Not striding forward in confidence
But trod upon.
Sole flapping in weary protest.
Every motion orchestrated for
No revival.

I think I shall become "Bamboo Lady."
Roses lost with my past.
No hothouse plant but green,
Swaying with the changes.
Common woman thriving on
Nutrients and water.
And learning.

by Mari Sloan
copyright 2011 

Copyright © Mari Sloan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

What Happened

They're never supposed to end, they're 
supposed to last forever
Its supposed to be locked down but it's as 
light as a feather
Someone could've been your best friend 
forever a few years back
But now you turn and look at them and be 
like "who is that?"
Friendships are seesaws, one minute 
you're cool, the next youre enemies
One minute you're fightin', the next 
Drinkin' Hennessey
Facebook friends same people that'll rob 
Same people who'll start huggin' you then 
try to mob you
People lie when they say friendships 
always last
Now seein' someone you would've given 
your life for is like a blast from the past
Wise words were told by Machiavelli and 
Kanye but who's will last longer
One said "the ends justify the means" the 
other, "That don't kill me, Can only make 
me stronger"
We used to be close, especially when you 
lived up the block
You can walk right past me but that don't 
come as a shock
You always got so much to say, but I'm 
just laughin' at 'cha
You really just don't know. But I ain't mad 
at 'cha.

Copyright © Hadrian Bohannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Poetry In Motion With Madison Thomer

Sorry Madison I fell asleep, for you took far too long to respond.
I expected a poem a little more deep, because I thought we had a stronger bond!
You wrote three stanzas only, damn I thought you'd write a lot more.
Why you leave me so lonely, and close your cold heart's door?
It's a blast from the past, I now demand something new!
For your poem was wrote like the last, but hey, I'm still fond of you!
You say, you wear the crown, but you need to look at your poems first sentence.
Don't mean to make you frown, but it doesn't make sense, so here is your penance...

Two months or so, just to write a poem of 12 lines?
Look beyond the rainbow, for this poet came from the lost corridors of gold mines!
You have no respect, for you did not comment on my last Poetry N Motion with you.
I was baptized by a satanic sect, so maybe you can't grasp what I've gone through!

Who on the soup can poetically match my raging demonic pen?
You see the royalty, for I am king of kings among men!
You say there are more moves on the board to play?
I patented that board with a blazing sword and cut off your lingerie!
Are you serious pretty girl, calling my words poetic theft?
I'll rock your little world, and make you hurl till there's nothing left!

With this poetry tag, tell me, how long will it take this time?
Raise the white flag, for my dark fantasy will be my only crime!
Next I'll explain in detail how I'll tie you naked to a four poster bed.
I'll enter your mind beyond this cell, and make passionate love in your head!
So I'll be waiting my dear Madison, and hope you'll soon return.
Bring ammunition for your poetic gun, you sexy poetic intern!
Please, please hurry back, because I love the smell of your femininity!
I'm gonna give your cute *** a smack, as I take your poetic virginity!!!!

*Re-re-retag Madison;)  He He He

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Not Your Pot of Gold

You only want to hang around
while I can  spin straw into gold
You have no true intentions
of staying  'til we both grow old

You whisper all the right words
you think you have me sold
I still do everything for us
You think  you have me controlled

I know I should change something
just be more strong and bold
This narcissistic attitude of yours
has made my heart grow cold

I need to throw my hand in
on this deal,  I should fold
Give up and move on so that
on me  you have no hold

Go get a life you lazy bum
I'm not your pot of gold.

(a blast from the past, lol)

Copyright © Lenna Walker | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dope Rhymes To Share With Society By Big MWV

done near got clipped yet even tripped
out on the patio blasting the stereo
my son was inside eating his Cheerios
man that kid don't quick eating some ice cream with another lick
it seems that times like these that no one gives a ****
rap is the jungle in your mind some walking blind
hit me from behind when everything was quite fine
way back in 88 I knew my fate but yet my destiny was a little bit clouded
busting a move sure to improve the cycle of reflection
leave us secong guessing i must be confessing
why ya all stressing of my brand new invention

here is come quickly cause Johnny cum lately
reaching my destiny backed by George Foreman
for I created a rhyme that will bust a move ya show improve
Word on the streets is we got to stay clean burning the rubbers in fresh magazines
this is a brand new invention so get me at no blessed convention
should i put salt in your teeth or maybe added sugar
is it any wonder you got too much time on our hands

let the reader understand you can't keep sticking it to the man
we built this city on rap control trying to add up what's left in Death Row
clouds of funk between the satin sheets one has sprung a leak
trying to make dope rhyme to share with society
the raps are stuck in side of me living for my legacy
blast from the past now its the hour of decision

peeps in the street trying to spring a new leaf with the hip hop scene
people can break you or take you fake you or make you
got to bust a sweet beat just to make it on through
see we are tired you see in our blinded society
folks with a spoon up their nose with a rubber hose
don't you know we all want to be a wanna be gangster
with stereo or caper 
but ya'll can be what you want to be even work on that degree

blasting out tracks as sugar is sweet so sweet like honey nothing a bit phony
got your body kit Camary living in the hood you see
the peddles in the front while to true pussy's in the back
working too hard can give any man a heart attack
bullets flying but I'm still surviving paid in full and I'm not lying
fresh beats to end for never again will i have to pan handle in the alley
Cause soon & very soon I'll be going back to Cali

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Twister Rap

locked got this rap game locked
lot think a lot boogy down with the socks
doing the twister sorry that I missed her 
creating the flow things you ought to know
it will help you grow expand my horizons
drop these beats hot the piece flow a lot
I tip my hat to the task of the spinning wheel
feel the breeze start spreading its disease
twister twister sorry that I missed her
lazy days of spring living in a land of mean
the beat goes on with a tender song 
I'm broke but it's no joke I still got skills to cope
thinking outside the box like homeboy Scott Lerock
dizzy in a haze like a cat stuck in a maze
your teeth are shiny so kiss my fat behind you
a tisket a tasket come look at me in my casket
basking in the haze sought for silence through each day
its kinda like pulling teeth I stand outside the edge of my seat
rapping is the thing of the past but how long it lasts

got the spinning wheel to take you on a long trip with a double dip
throughout each episode we know bust up the beat to promote the tempo
carry on with a song in your heart by which to impart a way of escape call it fate
spinning records in my crib you can add lib filled up with drama to forgive
blast from the past no one gets by on any free pass

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2018

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Gerry's Here

Get up bring your book and blanket
Through the hall way cross
And through the kitchenette
Over  dark veranda  down the garden stairs
Enter the shelter and cuddle up wet
Feet in the bathtub ready to dive
Four  huddle and cuddle together alive
Shivering shaking and not from the weather
The wooden door’s shut and the sandbags are piled
Candlelight flickers on eyes going wild
Grabbing the book opening page
Clinging to riders in soft purple sage
Some of the words are easy to spell
Others emerge like a slow learning spell
Soon I am lost from the crumping and bumping
Riding a horse in a ten gallon hat
Till the siren’s all clear puts an ending to that
Back up the stairs under yellow red sky
Back into bed under covers to dry
Nowt now to worry we’ve dunnit before
Such a big boy now well into four
Hid under the covers
Learning to snore

This is a blast from the past
Nightmares were the first horses I rode
Almost into puberty
Every house and flat in Knotty Ash
 had a backyard bomb shelter
Further into the city they were
communal usually next to a tramstop
As were the cement water tanks
Covered of course to keep
them clean for the Home Guard
The memory’s as true as I can recall
America was purple

Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2006

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Repetition Slam

What's the point? 
Of a daily perpetual cycle of repetition 
If it only brings forth a case of the blues
History is old news
Unlike Jerusalem 
That is as relevant today
As all its yesterday's
Our journey less paved
For which we have played
A so called blast from the past
Put into perspective serve only to remind me
What's the Point?
Nothing has got any better 
Just harder to handle 

Copyright © Christopher Flaherty | Year Posted 2018

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Without end

Without end

In the haunted castle where all is quiet,
There walks a man with a ghostly face.
It is forever changing, a million images;
The nightmares staring back at him in the mirror;
The memories, the dreams never spoken and the wishes never made.

Dressed from head to toe in a cloak of black,
He is a blast from the past 
And he is lost to the thoughts that have never been had.

No sound to be heard on the castle grounds,
Except for the wind blowing the cries of all the lost souls.
The ghosts are outside walking from the beyond into the now.
Time has been turned upon its head; a history of bones.

The graveyard is empty, for the bodies have arisen.
This land is his home, but he is without a reason inside his prison.
He does not ask for salvation, because no redemption will be given.
He is without a desire to be loved; he is lost without feelings.
He can never leave the castle grounds,
Because at the edge there exists an invisible barrier
And no exit to be found.

A hundred years have passed on by, since the time of his death.
Some say this was his darkest time, 
But they are those still with breath.
With all his might he stands against,
The tide of what was and what still is,
But still he died, still he is here and still he does not live.

Now he haunts his castle alone,
He is without a soulmate; he is without a friend.
He has no hold of his own ill-fated soul,
For he is trapped in the never seen and his life has no end.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Blitzkrieg Days

On a runup to the past,
lightning lies are striking fast
Speak a little Fuhrer con,
Dollar sanction appease a wannabe Stalin
In the Big Ivory House,
every hussy dictator is welcome
But the Constitution’s first wife ain’t:
	Billie O’Righty,
big bloomer free speech suffragette woman,
can’t issue flap on the clothes rap line 
	with open air liberty
Oh, sista “Hildy”
why can’t you talk like a first wife oughta,
Heard tell 
your churlish hubby say,
his hired guns had 2.0 Guccifer bought ya
These be the Apprentice blitzkrieg days
of an American Idol whore wife
Democracy got ruble bought and pimp sold
Soviet shackled in an Oval boudoir war room ...
	so, so soul Siberian gulag cold
Blitzkrieg days
be an atomic blast from the past
Aryan hydra-gen purity
filtered thru a Prussian fusion glass
Adolph the Fuhrer ways,
backsliding American trailer trash
Trumpet the **** politics
to the lewd base voter voyeurs,
who don’t shed any amoral tears
Them that love to hear the outlandish lies 
	being Babel tower sown
Those that bathe in the blood of the false cries;
their Wall crawling, long-nose daddy,
they won’t ever dare disown
Now trapped in a web of covetous deceit,
		                   domestic terrorism homegrown
Ugly American ducklings
be globally cocooned in an isolation quarantine zone
Lovers of the last blitzkrieg days,
this Fourth Reich kingdom will fall just as fast
Much to your toppled pride dismay

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018

Details | Blast From The Past Poem | Create an image from this poem.

No More Tears

                                      A long time has gone by since I've seen your face, then bam!
                        A blast from the past it seems, your back in my world I'm no longer 
your little girl.
                                                 I was missing you, I was crying it's true.
                                    My tears have all been cried out, I'm moving on no doubt.
                                             We can be friends, but that's were it ends.
                                              No more obsessing, no more caressing.
                                 I'm through with being blue, most of all I'm through with you.
                          I loved you with everything I had, all you left me with is being sad.
                                    I want to be happy and it seems I can't be with you.
                                       I could never forget you, or what you tried to do.
                          You showed me love and pain, boy those lessons weren't in vain.
                               I could never hate you, but I could never date you again.
                               You were everything to me, but in the end I've got to be me.
                                     I lost my mind and can't rewind and get it all back.
                         Now I see you don't need me, and  I don't need you, we just both 
needed a clue.
              Now I know what to do, say goodbye and not cry this time, but remember 
when you were mine.
                                                           No More Tears

Copyright © Amber Ouellet | Year Posted 2008