Best Bygone Poems
Memories Of Bygone Days
O' yes, how well I remember her still
giant black oak atop big wooded hill
Those treasured days now long flown by
our free spirits flying so very high
Summer days within Nature's fine realm
majestic views that did so overwhelm
Cloudy days in the meadow far below
flowers galore, O' what a great show
My lady and I went up there to park
glorious scene set our hearts to spark
Under canopy of that old massive oak
she sweet words of undying love spoke
Our tree saw our love start to bloom
picture of that oak in our bedroom
Two years it watched our love grow
how was it to ever see or dare know
Life came and flew on us so fast
love came deeply but failed to last
Fate sent us onto far different treks
love destroyed, both lives were wrecks
Now I pass that massive tree on the hill
memory recalls her beauty , what a thrill
Time destroyed the scene it ruled then
O' the love of what should, could have been
JULY 2015
With her first words she mesmerized his soul,
Of rose water and lavender was her aroma,
Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic,
A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note,
Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding
To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual
Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball.
He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance,
She accepted and gracefully took his hand,
He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced,
Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and
So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes
Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him
Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance
Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and
Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention.
Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York
From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed,
Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation
Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in
Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance
And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them.
Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic,
Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her
Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning.
He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become
Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage,
Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last
Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after
An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights
And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered
Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly
And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally
Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral.
What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three
Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
As yellow leaves wither in the autumn breeze,
only apathetic thoughts remain
in this nonchalant existence of
my diseased body and over the hill mind!
It reminds me a time of agility,
A time of struggle and celebrations,
An age when dreams of a better future bloomed,
And leaping up those stairs to pluck the petals of success.
The illusion of youth, believing I would remain the same forever,
My beauty, once admired by the mirror,
My body, that lied about its boundless strength,
And the willpower that upheld my beliefs!
Now, my poor mind, dreadfully distressed,
on the fritz of my worn body parts.
Here I am, at the dusk of my life,
panting and staring at the steep stairs
called ‘rest of my time’!
I wonder, are there any tears left
to cry over the memories of my vigorous days?
Or, has time swallowed even the sorrow, leaving only silence?
They slipped away
One by one
The bygone days
Of summer
Forgotten windchimes
Gently tingled
To the breezes ringing
Their last serenade
Wispy sunlight
Resisted giving way
To hurling winds
And skies darkened
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~BYGONE DAYS OF SUMMER~ 2020
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on April 8, 2020 for contest STRAND POETRY PICK 5 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Originally posted on October 2, 2019
Know a sweet lady who was once a nurse
In a home for retired folks
A perfect personality to take care of the aged
Such tender caring she evokes
Her sweet loving nature was a perfect match
They must have really adored her
A tender loving soul with a heart of gold
A one-in-a-million type girl
Honoured by her friendship and dear sweet love
Fortunate to have met this charmer
Would sure love to spend a couple of evenings
Talking, some nights in the parlour
Hearing sweet tales bout these elderly folks
Their long and interesting lives
Tales of a joy with their dear loving families
Loving husbands and dear sweet wives
For some, their memories are all they have left
Abandoned, forgotten and alone
Such a sad and unhappy way to end a life
Golden years can be overblown
So if you have folks tucked away in a home
Please visit these precious dears
One day you'll also be thankful for those visits
Talking about your bygone years
~ it brings tears - every ripple I wrote in my diary ~
14.02.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A Ripple To Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
1st place in the contest
14 syllable - howmanysyllables.com
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
" come fluttering words, come drifting words to me . . ."
Once upon a time in a vicinity, year 1895
A maiden's dwelling in an old-fashioned antique edifice
Lavishing her every second in an everlasting woe
Cursed by her yesterday's ordeal
An appalling juncture - Striking ...
Mind still delineate the affliction
Coercing herself to bury the reminiscence
Yet every single thing she sees is a replica
Reflects the montage of the man
Living alone in the rocking chair
Sited in a chamber beside the glass window
Overlooking outside " his " small world
Isolated...quarantined - declining with his incorrigible ailment
That aged man...around 90's - grey haired
Crease are seen - brought by the yesteryears suffrage
Eyes almost close - going to surrender everything
No words come out - voiceless
Yet words come fluttering and drifting to him
Through " his " heart's voice of love...
Retrospection stocked in nowhere in space...
Little by little ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE masticating his very last breath. . . . . . .
Now, residing solely - she's so sick
In this vintage, life-vacated home
Together with the last flowers
Given before " his " death
The only reason why she's still breathing for life
Petals are falling like raindrops as her tears do so
Almost ceasing her life too with the malaise
As the flower abandoned by its only glory
Wishing to go where her father go.
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
===========================================
*-* *-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* *-* " WHAT IS SHE THINKING " contest
*-* *-* July 15, 2011
Thank heavens, the winter that bit is bygone.
Winter frost chilled gout-ed limbs, wrinkled
all crooked fingers severely knotted with revolting ink blue veins.
Movements became a luxury of room heaters.
Thank heavens, the winter that bit is gone !
Love and passion had gone low in profile
rigid against frigid cold-heart ed winter,
warmth had dulled down in tiny dots, unseen
Thank heavens for the winter begone!
The sober siblings,the purring cats and the bored puppies
now peer slowly out of shut window panes
in bright hopes of spotting long gone glowing brightness
They too sigh, thank heavens, the winter that bit is gone.
I can hear colors knocking at my door
fragrances slowly permeating air, faintly though
a warm ray of sun stroking my sleepy senses to rise and shine
Thank heavens my beloved spring is here.
28.01.2013,
Know a sweet lady who was once a nurse
In a home for retired folks
A perfect personality to take care of the aged
Such tender caring she evokes
Her sweet loving nature is a perfect match
They must have really adored her
A tender loving soul with a heart of gold
A one-in-a-million type girl
Honoured by her friendship and dear sweet love
Fortunate to have met this charmer
Would sure love to spend a couple of evenings
Talking, some nights in the parlour
Hearing sweet tales bout these elderly dears
Their long and interesting lives
Tales of a joy with their dear loving families
Loving husbands and dear sweet wives
For some, their memories are all they have left
Abandoned, forgotten and alone
Such a sad and unfortunate way to end a life
Golden years can be overblown
So if you have folks tucked away in a home
Please visit these precious dears
One day you'll also be thankful of those visits
Talking about your bygone years
© Jack Ellison 2014
The sick sadistic people that torture the kid
Thinking of thoughts to fascinating in sin
Hiding behind a stature of loneliness he hates
A time warp in his chest it elates
Swaying through time with no cause or mentality
He don't want to feel like a congenital abnormality
Piercing his mind with no anesthesia
Mind caught in the lake of amnesia
Grasping towards another minoral fate
Sometimes in this bygone world its too late
Suffering a wraith in his vivacious serenity
So sad and unaware with no amenity
This boy has suffered for a time of days
Like most diverse and beseeching in many ways
But tampered with is his lamp of time
Puppet strings in his head now a mime
The prescription of happiness is a lie
Bury the darkness as a maggot one day be a fly
This is the torture of a teen so young
Now no speech they take your tongue
Its over
Its over
Slit it in his own health
Slayed down for his enlightened death....
Although Tai-Gueng-Uang’s* wife
did not abandon her husband but wanted
to avoid poverty, she, now, is so sad and agonizing
because no water poured to the ground can be recovered.
Although the people say that Tai-Gueng-Uang angled
the sun, moon, stars and clouds and winds with straight hook
dropped in water,
why, not speak of the time,
this incompetent old fool, a man incapable of catching even,
with a hook and delicious bits, a smallest fish in the pond,
scraping the ground with a broken dipper for spilled water?
The fool though knew that the opportunity is not given
to everyone who wants but is for the chosen ones,
yet walked up and down restlessly on the stage
it was never allowed for him to step on;
now he sits on the stage where the many big and little stars
stepped on and performed their best in the applause with hand clapping,
dropping a line faced to the empty seats in the dark and dismal theatre.
Why the only yell of sarcasm echoes
in the empty space however? Why not the laughter
but the melancholic tune rings from the orchestra pit nevertheless?
For whom the requiem rises to a chorus from backstage nonetheless?
*Chou Royal House political and military strategist and Wen Wang’s teacher. Later invested as a feudal lord of Tzi by Un Wang the son of Wen Wang.
The sick sadistic people that torture the kid
Thinking of thoughts to fascinating in sin
Hiding behind a stature of loneliness he hates
A time warp in his chest it elates
Swaying through time with no cause or mentality
He don't want to feel like a congenital abnormality
Piercing his mind with no anesthesia
Mind caught in the lake of amnesia
Grasping towards another minoral fate
Sometimes in this bygone world its too late
Suffering a wraith in his vivacious serenity
So sad and unaware with no amenity
This boy has suffered for a time of days
Like most diverse and beseeching in many ways
But tampered with is his lamp of time
Puppet strings in his head now a mime
The prescription of happiness is a lie
Bury the darkness as a maggot one day be a fly
This is the torture of a teen so young
Now no speech they take your tongue
Its over
Its over
Slit it in his own health
Slayed down for his enlightened death....
Bygone days
Climbing trees
Paper boats
Scabby knees
Duffle coats
Pick n mix
Runny nose
Thrupenny bits
Scruffy clothes
Flying kites
Desperate Dan
Conquer fights
Tins of spam
Spots n pimples
Teachers cane
Hunting thimbles
Bronco lane
Skimming stones
Hopscotch
Nit combs
Chicken pox
Kicking cans
Running wild
Building dams
Fifties child
Remember when we graced the fields with
youthful glee and innocence?
When time non-existent hid its face
and all was pure and sacrosanct.
We scoured a realm these days unseen
and magic glittered in our eyes.
The moon a marvel and stars our wishes.
Did your dream come true?
Searching for the rainbows end,
our eyes they panned the blessed horizon.
When we reached the promised bounty
time had swept our pathway back.
The warmth of the sun shines on my face and in doing so I glow with radiance, my long hair looks like strands of gold in a dull world, society doesn't accept me but yet I feel free as I watch the ascent of light in the east
To be different is not normal, but yet I am more normal than most
Going by in a flash, seasons change with the years but I am the same, happy with who I am and what I got so to speak
I don't need modern technology to keep me happy because happiness is a mindset not materialistic
Looking towards the west, I see clouds in the noonday sky and the smell of moisture on the horizon
Walking towards the dying fire, a late summer breeze blows my locks in waves that cascade into the sunset
Never looking over my shoulder, my denim jacket has faded from time as decades pass
The sun sets behind an odd tree with no leaves like the modern world, but I look past it all
A new day will dawn like it did all those years ago when I was young, and then comes the rain.............