Best Mementoes Poems
We said our goodbyes in June,
and the months since blur into mist.
At unexpected moments, awareness
of loss hits; tears spill unbidden.
Family gathering, Christmas Eve
as usual . . . minus one.
We quietly exchanged gifts,
found flowers from her funeral
crafted into hand-made jewelry,
kaleidoscopes, treasured mementoes.
I cooked grapes today, dark muscadines.
I extracted seeds and peelings,
and measured life-sustaining juice
through the metal funnel she used
from the day of her marriage.
It came to me dented and bent,
like her body had been at 93.
I still taste those fresh-from-the-oven
chocolate rolls after school,
garden tomatoes warmed by the sun,
hot biscuits with apple jelly,
squeezed from the peelings after
she baked crisp slices in cinnamon-rich pie.
I'm glad I didn't know then,
about being allergic to Cinnamon.
Curtains drawn drawing me in
past trinkets left as mementoes
reaching for stars and moments
filled with honeydew kisses
keepsakes kept inside
Sugared apple blossom scents
fill the void nowhere left to hide
scarlet petals wrapped in wonder
float atop the steamy waters
of a long lost one act play
Reflection of sated imperfection
staring into an open invitation
robes dropped but fearing a
cold shoulder a twist of fate
a simple smile can sedate
Pockets full of daisies held
the journey into futures
untold whispers in the breeze
putting a worried mind at ease
reliving a childhood dream
Keepsakes are memories beyond measure.
I keep them in a box; each one a treasure.
~ by poet
It had been quite a while since I've thought
about the box I've filled with many keepsakes,
but today I had a memory that touched my heart.
opened the box, hands trembling with the shakes.
I'd wiped the dusty lid before peaking inside
at the collection of things, I've kept for many years.
The last time I'd opened it; a loved one had died.
The rose petals dried, but on that day, I'd shed tears.
There's a broken emerald pendant, a gift from my Dad.
Melancholy reminders of family... these treasures I hold.
Yes, some of them touch my emotions and make me sad,
others fill me with love when I've the need to be consoled.
I've saved old love letters and poems that I can truly say
are written words of endearments I'd never want to forget.
Photos of family members before their hair turned gray...
reminders of happy times when life had no stress or regret.
These sentimental items are my links to days long past.
Losing any of them would be like losing a piece of my heart.
Mementoes that I cherish... memories meant to last,
kept safe In this dusty box until from life I must depart.
She found some mementoes stored in a box
before the new owners came to change the locks.
An assortment of items almost forgotten
now partly hidden under protective cotton.
The items were in her late husband's dresser;
reminders of the days when he tried to impress her.
Some old coins, a yellowed program, a dog-eared ticket;
her memories stirred and for just a minute
husband and wife were united, if only in spirit.
Two soulmates: one on earth, one up above,
linked by ephemera, but forever in love.
"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it." Psalm 127:1 of the King James Bible
Behold me…
marked with awesome affectionate hues
exuding family love
radiating bliss of eternal security bonding
triumphantly prevailing midst smiles.
Recollect with me…
while exposing joy of home
along grateful heart of glowing faces
praise-filled, beaming with grace
bestowed by the Lord!
Be glued to me…
never blinking your eyes,
yet now welled with tears
as you are gripped with Mom and Dad’s love
transporting your very being toward siblings’ milestones.
Reminisce with me…
grand celebration of blood-ties reunion along prayer fellowship
as your Dad and Mom steadfastly hold hands
and you view them doing so in heaven
with their inspiring love story, upheld by faith.
Get nostalgic through me…
recalling sweet peace in your paradise
with hearts warmed midst compassion wonders
seeing your parents’ partnership of caring scene
creating legacy of kindness for your generation.
Now, treasure me --- more than a keepsake
as I reverberate your life history
chronicled with mementoes
never to be buried in oblivion
since I, your family picture reign in your heart.
February 8, 2025
2nd place, "Dusty Box of Memories" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 2/12/2025
LOVE FOREVER FADES AWAY!!!! wrote by Mrs.Madhavi
Waving like the sea,
Your decision was bias.
You ought to give me wedding ring,
But set my dreams on fire.
Can you answer me for the single reason, what made you do this?
Was it the beauty? Was it the caste, or the complexion?
You said I am your love at first sight.
You were the one who took the initiative and intended to keep it up.
You were the one who delightedly filled my heart with zeal of love.
You were the one who elegantly filled the warmth of love in my soul.
Confronted with an unsolvable dilemma’s where there is no right answer, we always know the answer to everything.
But what you did? You just made false promises.
Still you define it as the love, true love?
Or the love that vanished with no reason.
Answer me, answer me, my thee??
Near the bandra reclamation,
Sitting at the amusement park,
You were the one who excitedly expressed your thirsty feelings.
You were the one who stared at me without closing your eyes for a single second.
But you were the one who set my dreams on fire.
You said you will ask your parent’s for lifetime commitment?
But I will ask you one thing, if you feel your parents will understand and decide your love, then why you fell in love?
If you know that story wont line up with an happy ending, then what made you do this?
It’s just the pain you mounted on my heart. You just broke my heart.
When you blamed, that it’s the caste, it hurted me like hell.
Answer me my love, what made you do this?
I was happy being single.
Then, why you disturbed my life with no reason?
Then, why I got so much acquainted with you for all season?
It’s was so easy, that you picked up different slices of life but why Castism you did my almighty?
In the bruising darkness just left with ashes of memories, lying my face down in ignorance.
You broke my trust for all the life time in my way.
But still you left the happy prints, as a hope of ray.
It’s because of you, Love forever fades away.
But still left with the mementoes of yours, reminded me every day!!
My heart bares many wounds
that will not heal
mementoes of lost love
and heartache time hasn't heeled
I have cried so many internal tears
that burned inside me
as deep as the deepest sea
but still no one understands
or knows the pain that festers deep inside me.
So I place barbed wire around my heart
and barbed wire around my lips
build a brick wall around me
that no one can strip.
I've raised the drawbridge locked the gate
being a loser in love
was my curse my fate.
''An old poem, the drawbridge is now down!.''
Peter Dome .copyright.2013. Dec.
I met a woman, fell in love
She was a gift from above
Soon she became my spouse
We gathered things and set up house.
Some things were new without a flaw
Some were hand me downs from Ma and Paw
For some we saved nickels in a can
Some were bought on the installment plan.
Children came – a total of four
Two boys – two girls- no need for more
We managed to provide room and board
Did the best we could afford.
We moved around from house to house
On an adventure – me and my spouse
Gathering things to which we would cling
But we rarely got rid of anything.
Tables, chairs, couches, and beds
Cabinets and shelves taller than our heads
Mugs, pictures, and bells we did collect
Mementoes and heirlooms on which to reflect.
A man gathers a lot in over fifty years
And remembers many of them with tears
Many a thing still fills my house
But it’s not a home without my spouse.
She has a room in a retirement home
Care is provided and she cannot roam
I dreamed one day we would be old timers
But I never figured on Alzheimer’s.
Now I have a house full of stuff
Too many things - more than enough
The time has come to downsize
To an apartment in the high rise.
My children came one by one
Went through my stuff until they were done
One takes this and another takes that
And managed to do so without a spat.
Giving things away is a lonely task
My irritability I cannot mask
Gathering things with my spouse
Was more fun than cleaning out house.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 8
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Twists itches in bums and bosoms of hope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Mascaraed serene face trots on stilettos
Embryos oblivious violent lope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Paths to pleasure lead through stabbing throes
Sadistic brutes loved more than sweet husband dope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Tigress nape stung deep in tiger-tooth jaws
Thumped fury of loins turns mother salope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
The sacred act of making one life’s woes
Born of the terra moto gasping breath grope
Each in his own way straps on strappados
Still the Big-Bang whistles tinnitus mementoes
Is the Universe the result of wanton rape
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Each in his own way straps on strappados
© T. Wignesan – Pars, 2015
They got them in service to their country
mementoes of it’s wars,
some for valor above and beyond
others for sweeping floors.
They all turned out in uniform
fulfilling the oath they took,
to protect and defend this country
we were proud of how they looked.
No matter draftee or volunteer
most were loyal and true,
earning the chevrons on their sleeves
protecting me and you.
All gave of themselves in some measure
a few were called to glory,
just a handful were broken in shame
but they too are part of the story.
Not all scars are where we can see
there are some that lurk inside,
coloring lives for years to come
with secrets they attempt to hide.
Some wounds of war will never heal
always having you by the throat,
affecting everything you do
how you think and feel and vote.
No, maimed and bleeding is not the worst
that can happen to people in war,
there are things more terrible
that haunt them forever more.
So stand up straight to wave and salute
when you see an American Vet,
their lives were on the line for yours and mine
these heroes deserve our respect.
The heart, like the mind, has a memory, and in it are
kept the most precious keepsakes.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Today, I opened my memory box and looked inside
The last time I did this was the day a loved one died
But now I have a new keepsake to add to my collection
a photo of newborn Grace, grandchild of my affection
Most of them are gentle reminders, pleasures to hold
when I'm feeling emotional and in need to be consoled
An opal pendant, a lovely gift given on our wedding day
I could never part with it, nor could I ever throw it away
I have love letters and poems from family and friends
It's comforting to read them... hopefully it never ends
There are words of endearments I'd not want to forget
Reminders of happy times, those lived without regret
Each of my keepsakes touches a place inside of me
It's a safe haven within my heart that no eyes can see.
Some are tinged with sorrow, filling my eyes with tears
remembering the dark days that fueled my worst fears
These sentimental items are my links to days long past
Mementoes that I hold dear, memories I desire to last
The most fragile keepsakes are stored within my heart
where nothing is able to taint them or tear them apart
If a fire broke out I would save my ancestry tree, wallet for Id, pictures of family indeed, birth certificate and deeds things that are personal to me, then family mementoes which are sentimental and what I really want and need is my Cadillac and its keys.
There it is having so enjoyed it
full of sunshine there in the med
tomorrow is day to catch plane home
you wish to turn clock back instead
Each day there has been so super
you’ve loved each one equally so
wanting each moment to last eternally
perfect your time to go ever so slow
That final day of the holiday
so sad but reality must be set
get the pressies to take home
your mementoes have to get
But the end must come to be sure
prepare yourself for that awful time
the sun waves goodbye so you wave back
take your seat as your bird takes it’s climb
Flight lands safely on home turf
it seems like yesterday I had left here
but hold the memories close to heart
then there won’t be so many a tear
(Some thoughts recently on leaving for home after holiday in Italy)
Michael, the archangel,
was found dead on my lawn this morning -
stuffed inside a Gestapo boot.
Crisp, black leather
containing the remnants
of abandoned halos and wasted youth,
boiled in a caldron of political mire.
A hierarchy of ghostly auras,
resembling pillars of spoiled sovereignty,
observed the vapid thrashing;
lending no assistance -
just applause.
These obese vultures,
donning the colors of democracy,
are strategically seated
at our convoluted
round table of insurgents;
freely feasting on scrumptious
foreign sanctions
laden with an array
of toothy seasonings.
These heavy-footed executioners
are quietly working
in government funded pawn shops
disguised as altruistic patriots –
holding our cherished heartland
in their right palm
and clandestine protection in their left.
On hearsay –
the destitute, our children,
our sons and the elderly,
are blindly vocalizing
“Of Thee I Sing” truisms
and saving blood stained
scraps of tattered angel wings
as noteworthy souvenirs.
Gagging on their own
internal suffering;
the brokenhearted are now
pinning these superficial mementoes
upon their children's headstones -
because they - just like we
have been unconsciously controlled
to quietly conform
and solemnly
accept.
If a fire broke out I would save my ancestry tree, wallet for Id, pictures of family indeed, birth certificate and deeds things that are personal to me, then family mementoes which are sentimental and what I really want and need is my Cadillac and its keys.
02/14/2019