Best Good Old Days Poems
Memories of good old days
When memories give you tears,
you sit, there is nowhere to go,
and you have the worst of fears,
Can you ever retain your glow ?
Those nostalgic evening walks,
drives in the dark that made crazy,
stuck in mind like stubborn plaques,
Can those pictures ever go hazy ?
Engraved in marble you can't erase,
Successive thoughts bound to depress,
Echoing in ears stays every phrase,
Alive are memories you must confess,
Emotions flow with good old memories,
as souls dance serene in mind galleries!
Written October 28th, 2014
Poet- Dr. Upma A. Sharma
Entered for contest 'Whatever' by PD A on Oct 29th
Awarded 10th place
Now for contest "Any old poem#8" by SKAT A
One thing is for sure when tales are told
The "good old days" are sure to unfold
Now understand
What made them grand
Was that we weren't good and we weren't old!
It’s a feeling that never fails
To follow a generation
Triggered by sights and smells
A nostalgic way of thinking
A one up on millennials
Knowing the correct way
It’s all the vibes and feels
Of back in the good old days
A love/hate relationship
For the progression of technology
Every day we use it
But reminisce the “used to be”
An expression of disappointment
Across a slowly, shaking head
And subconscious judgement
Of how others break their bread
One thing is for certain
History will repeat
This earth will keep turning
Beneath our aging feet
We were all much younger, happier then,
And untouched by heartache, sadness;
In dreams, we go back again and again,
And bring to our hearts gladness!
From Grandpa Frank, father of the Fields,
And Miss Pauline, who married his boy;
The hand of fate's no longer concealed,
As countless descendents live the joy.
When we were young, our parents were, too,
And each day was a new surprise;
When we were young, all skies were blue,
And life was sunrise, apple pies!
In the good old days, we laughed a lot,
And were high spirited and free;
And remembered what time had forgot,
And was unable to foresee.
In the beginning, we were carefree,
Back in those young love days;
I caught a glimpse of all eternity,
Once, in the good old days!
I remember the good old days of what now seems so long ago
The year was twenty nineteen. What parties we used to throw
Family and friends gathered for weddings and festive holidays
Smiles were seen before flashes of illness and dissension blazed
Parents went off to work; their children educated at school
Life was much easier then; and people didn't seem so cruel
We laughed and joked at neighborhood restaurants and bars
Hope in the future was bright, and shinier seemed the stars
It was a time when we took for granted, many simple things
When never would we have imagined the wrath of viral stings
Nor how much we would sadly miss the nearness of others
the signs of affection we'd still give, if we had our druthers.
There is one special memory from those "The Good Old Days"
that will never be forgotten in the grateful voice I lovingly raise
The blessed news of a new family member; a healthy baby girl
I pray her future will be worry free, as I watch her life unfurl
January 13, 2021
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
In the good old days, I rode all over town.
Our city had so many hills that on my bike
I’d be ploughing up one street, then racing down.
Loved that bike, but still don’t like to hike!
In the good old days, I ate a lot of food!
Didn’t gain an ounce of fat till I hit puberity.
No more eating for me any more just cause I’m in the mood!
I weigh myself each morning and count each calorie.
In the good old days with my siblings I would play.
Nowadays I’m at home and often alone.
That’s okay; I’m good with either way,
and I can always call my sisters up and talk by phone.
In the good old days, I could dream of dreamy guys,
and I could date a lot of guys (get different new first kisses -
sometimes great; sometimes not!) Today I have the prize
of nearly half a century spent now as a Missus!
Jan. 16, 2021
Our
water
came from springs
and back yard wells.
We raised crops and cleaned
our sturdy homemade things.
All worked. No duties were shirked.
Now, we captives to modern ways
sit in comfy homes, smile, and speak of
the good old days and how we miss them--NOT.
July 22, 2016
I have MANY sweet memories of the sixties, but they are NOT of the duties
described above!
THE GOOD OLD DAYS – JOURNAL XVI
Looking back from this point
I’d have to make a division
Between adults and children
For adults the many tasks were more
The thirties were the ultra-sparse of times –
Men out seeking work, women with back
breaking chores
The washboard, carpet beater, scrubbing (on
hands and knees) floors –
For most no modern conveniences
The kids – at least this kid – were relatively
happy
They might help out, certainly,
But had not the worry,
The responsibility
Things wearing out was not a big factor
Like, rubber resoles, needle and thread,
sewing machine,
The Model T with removable parts
The everyday things pristine
But people wore out
Everything moved so much slower
Those worn out moved slower –
the worry, emotional fatigue -
One’s age, life expectancy much lower
In these last few, as I reluctantly rise each day,
I want to remember the happy kid
And thank the martyrs, the miserable
For making him that way
Just remembering the 50's and the good old days,
When "I'm Bored" wasn't part of our vocabulary.
We had hopscotch, skip rope, hide 'n seek, and tag,
Life was full of adventure, dreams and mystery.
Food was scarce, money earned collecting bottles throughout the countryside.
Many of us hadn't even a bike nor a toboggan on which to slide.
We romanced the rain showers during April,
And frolicked in snow drifts at winter time.
Imaginations were awakened and we befriended,
Our river, meadows and woods with trees to climb.
Back then it was safe to walk alone to a friend's home,
Or explore along The St. Lawrence River's shore.
Back then neighbours were like family- close kin
Who'd no need to ever lock their door.
Simplicity was the poor man's secret,
Practising love, patience, humility and joy
Ever noticed the man who is led by God's Hand,
Never loses the essence of a much admired boy?
Reflections by Joan May Donnelly Ellis March 17 2015
EYES -
The round-of-life scene,
Hope of hereafter,
An aspect between
Movement hinders sight and more
A sandy beach
Spread at the shore
Glaze crust an itchy lid
Harsh chemicals
A thousand things hid
But now I lay me down,
Bright years in favor,
Beloved benevolent of the town
Lids drop comfortably,
A flesh-fast wall
See this dusty saffron galaxy -
All speculation, mind,
Based on ancient sacred text,
On human eyes, script of the time –
This mellow – now beige – array
Of swirling, tiny specks sifted,
Some far brightness on display
Beyond could be angels awing
So white, inner eye barely detects
But soul might hear them sing
More glorious than Cologne,
Alpine, or billowing clouds,
Their sweet voices whisper, moan
Forgot the body prime -
That ultimately false prison -
In this thoughtless region sublime
Dave Austin
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Sleepless night, in the early morn
Off to rush, rush, in Junkanoo!
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Dancing in the streets
Wearing crocus sacks and rags
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Making music with dry poinciana pods
Rocks in cans and goat skin drums
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Scrapping saws and scrub boards
banging on tin wash tubs
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Adorn in cactus painted masks
Topped with corn tassel sprigs
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Not having store bought gifts
But delicious fruits and cake galore!
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Going to candle light service
In celebration of Jesus’ birth
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
The spirit of Holidays was alive
On smiling faces everywhere
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Where well wishes echoed around
As carolers sang by candlelight
I haven’t forgotten
The good old days of Christmas
Each year Christmas is special for me
As I remember my Christmas' Past
Weird Ways and Good Old Days
If feature was made into a modern day
About past, wonder what it would say
Things have been done in weird ways
And were always called good old days.
This to some might sound like a crock
But we had a party on every block
Goings were easy and never tough
Knew how to play Blind Man's Bluff.
During each day was Carolina blue sky
And we would all play Mother May I
With much vigor and a lot of pep
To either take giant of small step.
We were nice, kind and never mean
Played Red Light mixed up with Green
While there living like a local native
With new games we had been creative.
Boring new games and news have become
Put in thumb, pulled out prune not plumb
Shriveled up and over back was bending
Can you imagine him to White House sending.
What if we were to have Hillary instead
Already made and slept in White House bed
Know below are two states called Carolina
Where they are supposed to store the China.
Has knowledge of where things should go
What wall to place a Benet or Gainsborough
And no one there will look at her suspicious
Knows difference between cat and doggie dishes.
Knows dots from dits and triangles from squares
And about foreign affairs she never despairs
She still is a faithful lover of Steve Schultz
Has his characters on all of her quilts.
After further experimenting in a lonely lag
What they came up with was some old crab
Who forever and a day resided in Vermont
Can't tell can't from caunt and ant from aunt.
Here is something else between you and me
Poor soul only has undergraduate degree
And out wonder how many would flip
When service responsibility he did skip.
If someone were to be an brilliant inspector
Berne had been a conscientious objector
And even though he may be slender and tall
Is Senator from almost smallest state of all.
(This also goes for City he was a mayor of.)
Last thing I know is he thinks guiding the
VA can be counted for foreign affairs. He
must be the only one who cares.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
The Good Old Days
Take me back to the good old days
When we were grateful for what we had
Now people have much more than they need
And society has gone bad
Greed is the keyword and money their God
Everyone out for themselves
I remember a time when we thought we were rich
If we had food on our shelves
People have to keep up with the Joneses'
Bigger house, bigger car, better job
But trying to keep up with the Joneses’
Just makes people think they're a snob
They look down their nose at ones poorer than them
Think they're better than everyone else
Just because they've got private health care plans
And the poor have got National Health
I don't know what our ancestors would think
If they were alive today
They'd probably think we'd all be better off
Living life like the good old days
the good old days
blacks lining up for restrooms
always in back
buses, trains, movie houses--all
but please spend your money here
I remember the smell of the polish
The hissing of steam from the pots
The songs on the radio playing
And my nose dripping with snot
Mum would grab me and wipe it
With a dexterity practised before
Leaving my nose like a beacon
Me screeching as I went out the door
My older sisters were singing
As they , the house chores fulfilled
The sun cut a beam through the window
And there on the Lino it spilled
Dust particles in its light they floated
Not seen when its power was gone
Yet they danced to the radio music
As the sun through the window it shone
These days are now but a memory
But oh what a treasure they are
Nothing I have can replace them
Neither jewel nor silver nor car