Best Bygone Times Poems
August-5- 2026
Contest- The Pensive Poet Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
~PLACED FIRST~
"A poet sees things which others seem to ignore and stores up his thoughts and impressions in the casket of verse, treasuring them as valuables that Time can't steal"~ By Poet
Alone, when I sit in my room in pensive mood,
Thoughts flit across my mind in endless succession.
They erupt out slicing time and space,
And flow in disarray, in a jumbled mass.
Then my facile pen starts moving quickly,
Gathering my thoughts in reflective refrain.
Like waves beating madly across the shoreline,
Emotions flow out, my mind no longer can contain.
On flipping through the pages of my life,
Deep nostalgia overwhelms me.
Like falling petals, as years hastily pass,
I long for the past when my days were quite glossy.
My mind wanders to distant memories dear,
And I wish to preserve what time has stolen.
So, I scribble my thoughts on the sheet in hand
To traverse through bygone times over again.
In my silence, I hear footsteps of the past
And see my dear ones as shadows fading out.
My parents who are no more there to care,
Gleam before, leaving my eyes misty.
I am on a sacred mission~
To stitch together broken memories and moments
And build a bridge between past and present.
My poems, l hope will serve as a window
That I can open and close at will.
Only in silence l can behold scenes,
That others miss out in diverse distractions.
The more I grow silent, the more I can see and hear.
I get ensnared by the breathtaking view of a sunset
The serenade of nocturnal birds,
The beauty of blooms and meadows wide and green,
The vastness of the sapphire sky -
Where rainbows arch after a drizzle
Or stars twinkle at a cloudless night.
Rills as they murmur and cataracts as they roar,
Fall on my ears as dulcet music of the cosmic band.
I wish to recall such sights and sounds
That once I looked on with a casual glance,
And fell like grains of sand funneled through the hour glass,
Later forsaken with no effort to keep or brush them up.
I wish to preserve them in poetry’s fragile art~
A craft sharpened and perfected in pensive mood.
So, time wouldn’t steal them away from my memory.
I strive to make my verses a mirror reflecting life.
Your arms locked around me with caution
The rhythm of the dance ... love
it has all the ingredients
All the momens I will share with you
You take me to places I have never been
When the wind whispering in the trees
it is your words I hear
A life together that can withstand both heat and cold
Teach us the ability to forgive
and humility even to be forgiven
Invisible threads, scents and memories of bygone times
All longings that humans have carried for generations
Stay with me to the morning and hold me closer
Inexorably longing for love
towards dawn and sunrise
15.12.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
This lockdown has me locked out of your heart
Though closer than a thought, we're miles apart
The shroud of silence settles tightly in
My words die on my lips before they start
Outside a monster howls in constant rage
Inside we beat our hands on walled-in cage
Our dreams illusive, bleed now on the floor
The truth exacts from us an awful wage
The days and nights are dressed in apathy
Deranged, we long to find some normalcy
Yet time looks on and jeers our fearful state
For well it knows we crave some company
Our words, our dreams, our love has all but died
The masks we wore, this quarantine let slide
I look at you and don't know who you are
The loveless look you give can't be denied
And so we bide our time in house arrest
The bygone times remembered as the best
One day we'll leave and face the world outside
With knowledge that our love has failed the test
Eileen Manassian
Beneath long lashes, misty clad,
Your limpid eyes are sometimes sad;
They bring to mind a homeless waif
Engulfed in rain with nowhere safe
Most times I find a cheerful light
Within your eyes that sparkles bright,
And though my thoughts I try to hide
My happiness wells up inside
At dawn I see your eyes aglow
Like founts through which your passions flow;
And when I’m low they always loom
Like morning glories through the gloom
Your smile ashine beneath my gaze
Effulgent eyes beam all ablaze:
A look, a touch, a kiss I yearn,
You slowly make my body burn
While at your side and in a heap
I scanned your eyes, half closed, asleep,
And as you slept with pillow clutched,
Your eyelids with my lips I touched
And if you’ve ever wondered why
I try to search within each eye,
Though past is past, your eyes remind
Of bygone times when love was kind
Yet, though your eyes still cast a spell
They seem to bid a fond farewell,
Reflecting but a fading storm
Although I know your thoughts are warm
But now our paths will part, alas,
For good things always come to pass;
Perhaps it lies within God’s ken
That someday we may meet again
As water rushes the river rock,
smoothing out the rough, sharp edges,
she dangles sun soaked legs from the dock,
while admiring the mountain ledges.
Smoothing out the rough, sharp edges,
borrowing innocence from bygone times,
while admiring the mountain ledges,
she toe taps her harmonic rhymes.
Borrowing innocence from bygone times,
she dangles sun soaked legs from the dock.
She toe taps her harmonic rhymes,
as water rushes the river rock.
Kapriolen des Lebens / Capers of Life / Las cabriolas de vida
Kapriolen des Lebens
Genauso wie fernes Irrlicht
In Vergangenheit
The capers of life
Like a far distant ghost light
In those bygone times
Cabriolas de vida
Luz fantasma lejano
En tiempos pasados
She wanders the halls in a world of her own
lost in an era of bygone times
with faltering steps, to the day room she goes
softly humming the tune of a lullaby.
Time rewinds, she sways 'neath his youthful gaze
his deep voice whispers into her ear
her lined face shines, frail arms raise to embrace
dancing to the music only she can hear.
Written on 9/30/2015
THE CRYING WILD CREATURES.
Nzongi Mwero.
Oh, we recall the bygone times,
The days of the golden past,
That chirping with our merry mates,
Flying around the parks,
Gone the joys of the nests,
That freedom restrained,
Coming at our will in parks,
But hindered and chained in the parks.
Oh, we feel painted at our hearts when we recall,
The scene in the parks unsmiling,
No glistering dew drops from the trees,
All big trees were cut down,
We can’t forget that lovely shape of the parks,
That endearing our faces.
Oh, life was real nice in the vernal shade,
Oh, we miss the sweet voices of our brothers in the parks,
Would that we had the strength to break the predators,
What a bad luck have we?
Can we pine for another park?
Brothers let us think of the weapons and tactics,
That we could escape from poachers and predators.
My friend Antelope- You can use your speed in retreating,
You Tortoise- Use your shield or bomb shelter,
My friend Chameleon- You can use the camouflage,
You Porcupine- Please use your swords or bayonets,
My friend Snake- Use your poisoned knife,
You Stunk- Please Use your tear gas or poison gas,
My friend Octopus- Use your smoke screen,
You Electric Eel- Please Use your electric shock,
Then my friend Gecko- You can Use your diversionary tactics,
And finally me Elephant I will Use my tusks.
Everyone has a duty to perform his defensive way,
To deal with poachers and predators,
But still human beings have more brains,
They know how to trap us,
We plead those with good hearted to protect us.
Parks are our shelters,
Rivers are our shelters,
Oceans and lakes are our shelters,
Trees are our shelters,
The land is our shelters.
Oh, we beg you do not harm us,
You live on land- You live on land,
You drink water from the rivers –We live and drink that water,
You get medicine from trees- We live and eat those trees,
You collect foreign money from the parks- We live in the parks,
You use oceans and lakes to travel –We live in those waters.
Oh, we are all world creatures,
Why are you killing us for meat?
Why are you destroying the parks?
Why are you contaminating the waters?
Why are you cutting down trees?
Why are you burning the land we live?
Why are you hunting us for more money?
And already you are getting foreign money due to us,
Please stop hunting us or destroying our shelters.
Billowing taupe clouds, hunker down and hem in the Peninsula,
The morning rips open
A glimpse of sun shone; a lemon curd slivers between slits of of silver illumination
The first hint of light glances up frothing crests of salted foam,
Waves slap mineralized milky encrusted piers,
A place she never goes,
The boats, the ropes, salted misty chalky vapors
All a mockery of thematic proportions,
Unduly deliver a set, a scene,
In which a broken-hearted woman creaks about over well trodden planks
With a mystery in her eyes,
A coat two-sizes too big
And a hint of faded spicy cologne
Envelopes her unconscious, the odor she is unaware of
She perceives a mounted flaking, patinated iron harpoon mere décor
A prop on the set of this distant sea,
An artifact for ancient ways of hunting, the heart of the whale she knew was the size of twenty men.
Old men begin to mill about from the shore they amble toward the beauty and the death of the sea,
The lulling sea
A salve for old men, a balm to quell the roaring mind,
Clapboard sided sea worn boats rise and fall not of their own accord,
But as slaves to the the great sea, slaves to the sea
They carry metal traps, hemp ropes
And the unforgiving memories of the land,
“Landlubbers” she muses. A momentary countenance of mirth gleams in her eye.
Such a funny word. An erstwhile chuckle engages her lips as she knows now the seriousness of life, whereby in bygone times mother warned: “Love will make a mockery of us all”
Walking amongst the shadows
In the heart of the night
A fall rain, in summer heat
Caresses thoughts of bygone times
In the heart of the night
It’s a full moon, shining upon my face
I walk into the mists of rain
I become a mask, so you see not the pain
I whisper to anyone close
This is the last chance to dance
In the heart of the night
If you were here, hug me tight
The dawn is approaching
And a life time of waiting
City streets wet with rain
In the heart of the night
In the south, of Belles so nice
I am reminded of you
In the heart of the night
New Orleans is full of light
I have waited so long
For love to knock me down
Changing seasons bring me the blues
In the cool fall rains
I dream of you
In the heart of the night
Inspired by a Canadian band, feel free to guess!!!
The Hunter and Gatherers Lament.
Gone is our childhood
Our hunting and gathering,
Existence.
Gone forever lost to history.
Our innocence
Where black- boy plant is our spear.
The gift to the hunter.
The grasses a gift to the gatherer to weave.
Gone is our childhood,
Of total acceptance,
Of mother protector
Of all her children.
Gone into our dreams
Soaked in illness and alcohol.
Gone forever to the dusty plains
Of change and white man’s claims,
To progress,
And dreams of the mighty dollar and greed.
Yes, gone my friend but not forgotten.
Never ever well we allow,
It to be truly lost.
For the streets whisper
For those to hear
For those who wish to really understand.
For those with real ears still,
Those who can still indeed dream,
The mother’s gifts.
Those who still can travel,
In their dance and their sleep.
Those who don’t need,
White man’s ways to know
Who they really are?
Help the young ones
Know who they really are.
Give the bottle away,
The glue and petrol all
Will destroy,
Who you really are?
Remember the true beat
Of the clap sticks,
And the rhythms
Of your family dance.
Honor your elders
The aunties of the grey-headed ones.
Wise old man your grandfather
Who can tell,
of bygone times,
the truth of it all?
And who you really are?
And dance the dance,
Of your family signature beat,
Your special gift to the mother.
Amid the deceit and pain of this modern era,
one will be born
who shall embody bygone times and ways;
he will want naught more than an uncomplicated life,
to do what he must and be what he can.
Always shall he look backward
to notions of the past,
like the gallantry of the chivalric knights of old;
in his own way thus he will be looking forward,
ever seeking a return to such goodly tenets.
Yet think not of him as a peerless warrior,
a brilliant mind or a charming lover,
for a failure he shall be -
mistakes, his accustomed routine;
regret, his vigilant companion.
Not alone will this wanderer travel;
for one will also be born
who shall see through his disguise of joy,
reach the agony underneath the surface
and whisk it off with nary a trace.
She shall be the most exquisite being
to exist outside of the heavenly realm;
yet never will he convince her
of the undeniable truth of such claims;
forever she will view herself unfavorably.
Stubborn to the last, he will profess his unworthiness -
surely one such as he, a pariah and buffoon
deserves not a creature such as she,
yet both of them shall depend upon and cherish
this love of the ages.
I dream of simpler days
Of chivalry and blooming skirts
Of Innocence
When poetry flowed from the heart
And the love felt there was true
When joy was real…
Take my hand and lead me into the past,
Your past
Let me dream with you
walk in your memories
re-live your experiences
Hand in hand,
Show me the very sun, that lights up your sky
That voice, that smile, that twinkle in your eye
I know that look … Ascending into better bygone times
I love that look, I am ready
Teach me your wisdom
Tell me your tales, advise me
Let me walk that mile with you in your shoes
Let me bask in the glory of Your Life’s Legacy
-'poetry as legacy' poetry contest-
Find me.
You can always find me,
In the Land of Memories.
It's a lovely place to go visit,
When I'm lonely and just sit.
Or I can stand at the gate,
I don't have to wait,
Because before too long,
Someone nice will come along.
They may stop and sit, maybe chat,
About before I was and this and that.
About the bygone times we once had,
All those years ago when I was a lad.
Then along may come Granddad Ezra,
Who had died before I ever was,
I'd ask him all about his farming days,
And all the children they had raised.
I'd sit and chat, now fancy that,
Along would come our long lost cat.
He went away when I was but a lad,
I remember that it made me so sad.
Aye Up now here comes my Gran,
She's Mums Mum, the one I never knew,
Hello Grandma Ellen, how are you?
Mums Dad Noah, he wasn't there.
Doorman at Duckworths, a Commissionaire.
I'd wait for my great, great Gran Salome,
I want to know what her surname would be.
The parade of folk, from the distant past,
Would all come by just to say hello,
We'd have a gossip and then they'd go,
After they told of things I wanted to know.
I am never alone in the Land of Memories
Just try it yourself and maybe you'll see
© Dave Timperley 18/10/2018
They keep me company -
Old letters, yellowed pictures,
Quaint artifacts and reminiscences.
I touch them with my fingers
Feeling remainants of the past,
Somber sacraments my heart has treasured.
They help me through my days -
While away my dark and lonely hours,
Taking me on a sojourn to bygone times.
I need to close my eyes -
Take a deep breath and ready,
To feel like I did once upon a time.
Happy that my mind
Has kept the relics of the past -
Intact, just as they were once.
The sounds, the fragrances,
A look, a touch, a smile, a tear -
I even see what I once could not.
My naivete then compelled
Or perhaps I chose to ignore,
Maybe, I had not the sense I have today.
The past subtly commingles
With my present and stops short -
Barred from doorways of tomorrow.
But I carry them in my heart
Those sounds, fragrances and feelings -
Which leave a smile, a tear and sighs.
Like wreaths upon the graves
Within my heart - that it may cherish,
That subtle touch of my bygone days.
They keep me engaged
The old letters, yellowed pictures
Little artifacts - ruins of my past.
Times I wish I could let go
But for strange reasons I hold on,
Or maybe they are loathe to let go of me.
They are now my companions
Who straddle my desolate moments,
With pleasure, pain and a deep longing.
Broken fragments of my past -
Which will ever remain with me,
I know they will keep me good company!
***********