Best My Past Poems
Treasures from my Past
In preparing for the yard sale, I gather all my junk,
I wade through the mass of items from decades before
From furniture to dishes that have sat down in my basement
And I realize that my past will be pushed outside my door.
I pick up a box of Royal Albert dishes from a dusty cardboard box,
Carefully removing the yellowed newspaper that wrap each plate,
Displaying the majestic burgundy strip with 24k gold filigree,
Rediscovering those joyful feelings that seem to calm and sedate.
Long before the death of my parents and my only aunt,
These plates graced the dining room table at all family celebrations.
Oh the food, the smells, the faces and the happy times,
These plates bring back all the best and warmest sensations.
With so many items to keep, each item with its own meaning,
The Royal Albert plates unpacked, finally get moved outside at last,
To ease my mind I think about the happiness that they can bring,
More happy memories for others, can be made from these plates of my past.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
What you see you can't believe
that this life is of me.
Raped an burned cut an sliced
by daddy big ole knife.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
The things You made me do
an the things you did to me
would make you cry you see.
A child so young an afraid
black an blue maybe grey
she never has anything to say.
Broken bones every now an then
as Mommy sets there an just grins.
I sneak away from the past
looking through a mirrored glass
I pretend every things ok
As daddy looks this way
an tells me just what to say.
I sneak away from the past
while looking through that
mirrored glass as my time here
has almost past.
I leave this world far behind
as mommy an daddy's world
will shine.
Locked away for ever in a day
This is where they'll always stay.
~*~*~*~*~
A little girl with dark brown braids.
White blouse, gold-colored wool skirt
and patent leather Mary Janes.
An only child with a wired haired fox
terrier that lived with Grandpa,
Mother and Father.
Her Mother, sweet, who saw to it
that she had ballet lessons, went
to a private school and Mother read
her poetry for hours.
A book collection she did have and
loved to read even before she really
could.
Playing with friends, riding her bike,
loved sparklers on warm, July Fourth
nights.
Saw men proud to wear a uniform,
who never came back from the war.
She did not understand when someone
stole her Teddy Bear during one of
many blackouts during the war.
Whoever would do such a thing?
No TV, no technology, just cut-outs,
crayons and she was taught to salute
the flag, because she lived in the land
of the free.
Children were safe, could go on the
train downtown.
But she cherished it the most when
hiding like a cub, under her Mother's
warm coat. The snow sticking to train
windows, peeking in.
Swimming at small lakes in summer how
she loved that the most. So suntanned,
she, the color of warm toast.
The girl knew song lyrics, she never forgot.
They live in her mind and heart and cannot
be turned off.
Years passed, the autumns and summers.
Family now almost all gone, yet somehow,
she remains young.
Always desirous of being herself, you won't
find the braided girl wanting to belong to
any crowd.
The music, the dance, her life, somehow
made her become a poetess.
Surely, not the best!
Being genuine is the gold standard for
all she writes. It must past this test!
She does not write to impress with great
finesse. Just to keep it simple as can be.
Thus~you will experience her poetry!
September 12, 2020
8pm PST
I’ve left all of my thoughts
On your drowsy, cozy bed.
All those dreams that we’d
Put together then.
All those floating feathers
And your thrilled laughter
Still there lay.
There, on that bed,
I’ve forgotten all my smiles
And all that bliss
That you covered me with.
On your pillow I’d rest
My tears again
So you’d evenly pick them
Up with the tip
Of your lips.
I still remember you
As you were…
As now, you are not!
We will sometime
Return to our darling bed,
To expel this awful past…
© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila
There was a time when I was sad, I felt alone... like I was merely taking up space for
those who wanted to be here. A look into my past will show you the dark days I have over
come. It all started in junior high school I was the girl everyone liked... I was
worshipped like gold. But with that worship came hatred and jealousy. I used to be
vibrant and full of energy... Life used to be nothing but a game to me and I played it
well. It wasn't until the hatred started to rear it's ugly head that I ducked undercover
and never came out of my shell again. I became shy, and withdrawn. I didn't trust anybody
because I always seemed to get hurt. I was alone, A stranger. I walked the halls like a
ghost, no one seemed to notice the pain I was in. Everyone morning there was a routine...
I would cling to my bed until my mother dragged me out on my knees. Tears in my eyes
begging her please can I stay home. I was in a deep depression and each day felt like
years... I wouldn't sleep at night because then the day time would come so much quicker.
It may seem crazy to me now but I used to cry as I walked to school wiping my eyes as I
walked. People could obviously see that I was in a deep trance, they didn't help they
just mocked me and that made everything worst. But when things got to the brink of it's
madness I left and found new friends... Now the problems didn't seem so bad and the
depression slowly Crept away. I was happy again, still cautious, still a little shy but
my friends were my protection from it all and I survived. A look into my past.
My Past
Written: by Tom Wright
I refuse to drown in the happenings,
Of perhaps, sordid days, long spent.
For things filed "past" i cannot change,
So they lurk causing me to lament.
My past I liken to a "read only" file,
Where is stored both my days and deed.
Knowing the bothersome can't be removed,
I attempt to cover it with beneficial seed.
But no matter my depth of interment,
Or that from thoughts I've tried to ban.
Satan somehow manages to dig them up,
And stands ready with his watering can.
A Thought
If my past wasn't the teacher
From which I learned the most.
Then in life, I would consider myself failing.
My hearts beating, fastly thumping
Inside my emotions jumping
From tears to joy happy and glee
Look at what you've done to me
Making me cry tears of joy
Happy that you are my boy
Gleeful I am not alone
All the love that you have shown
Make me spiral in a way
I want to feel every day
Appreciating what you've done
For a heart that's come undone
With a past I can forget
A new love future will now let
Me live in a world of care
Without any pain or fear
Tomorrow is never promised, yesterday has passed
We must live for the moment, today will not last
When I seek His face each night and day
He gently guides me to walk life His way
With my old damaged life left in the past
I am now and forever finally free at last
In a world of reality
Our dreams turned into a fantasy
He loves me with a pure unconditional love
A love He sent to me from the Heaven's above
Gone is the agony from painful past years
It is Jesus who now calms my fears and dries my tears
Sure we all try to forget.
The yesterdays of regret.
What lies beyond tomorrow no one truly knows;
But as sure as there’s a future past tomorrow is where it goes
Yesterdays is where my memory stays
Thinking of old and innocent ways
Gone are the days I chased with haste
For not a moment did I waste
Relaxing in the sun, my remaining days
I have of no regrets in thinking of the times of yesterdays
How do you like me as I am today?
Twenty years young, triumphantly boasting
Success through all you had been foreboding.
Casting my vast nets as far as the sun
While you cast your line in small empty streams,
Passionately chasing visions and dreams
While you bury your head in sand or run.
Do you still see no hope for my future?
See the wounds you thought I couldn't suture?
In my past I was but a ball of clay.
Shaped by your hands and your verbal roastings;
Scarred by abuse and spiteful goading.
I'm still not the one who mocks or makes fun.
I still don't pick guys last for my sports teams,
Because I know what hardship and hurt means;
How it feels to wish tomorrow won’t come.
Here I stand, the scar-ridden suitor
In full war paint, looking back with humour.
The past is always
the past
I often forget it
but it remembers me
everything I failed to be
yesterday is history...
The past is a ghost
a hole, dust, the wind
it is dark and moves unseen
beneath, betwixt and between
angels, demons, elemental spirits
come to me when I am sleeping...
Ghosts from my past
makes my thoughts
heavy as branches
after a raging storm
leaving me tired and forlorn
people who came before me
appear in dreams
In a way
we are all ghosts...
~ ~ ~
I recall the time – 1953,
somewhere around the first of June.
A special invitation by Granny
to come in the late afternoon.
My grandparents shared their television
first of a few that were owned in that day.
We drove ten miles for a grand occasion
happening four thousand miles away.
My inauguration to the big screen
one of London's landmark events -
the stately coronation of the Queen.
For Elizabeth, time well-spent.
She has ruled her land for sixty-six years
making her reign, Victoria plus three
"Long Live the Queen," long live her peers,
Nostalgic remembrance, Long live TV.
July 4, 2019
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian Strand's contest: Nostalgia Any Form, Any Number Of Lines
I SCREAM, I SHOUT IN PAIN
THE AGONY OF MY PAST LIFE TREATHENS ME
AS IF IN A TRANCE
ALL I SEE IS THE TRILLING NUISANCE
OF MY PAST LIFE SCENES.
OH MY PAST HOW PAINFUL?
SO UNDESIRABLE,THE UNLIMITED DISTRESS
LIKE CHAINS
THE RE-BONDING EFFECTS
ON MY WHOLE BODY LANES
WAS IT FOR LOVE, OR MIS-HAVES?
WHY ALL THIS?
THE MANY CRIES ALWAYS
GOING TRU TO TRUIMPH
BUT YEY A HAULTING STOP
IF NOT BUT FOR MY LIFE
IN TIMES TO COME
WILL I NEGLECT NOT
THE SCREAMS FROM MY PAST!
My past has been forgiven
In Christ I am set free
The power of sin is broken
I'm born again that's me.
I am a new creation
Old things are past away
His blood has washed me white as snow
I'm saved by grace today.
In your eyes I've seen my past arise
Though the shaft decays in the time below
The afterglow blooms in your girlish eyes
Your life was my life when the moon was low
Curiosity lived in us and our stars
Darkness and fresh moon were our worshiped duet
They bartered sleep with nightingale and hearths
We danced and played among stars and crickets
When you swim in mud, hunt the sun's abode
Watch hawks return, and trade meat for a tale
It's life's requisite, and soon shall implode
A new light shall spring from the ember's tail
-The fire of youth, and shall erode your mind
In the dying glow womanhood is confined
If there ever was a way I could easily go back in time,
I may change a few things here and maybe more there,
only a few crucial moments do enter my questioning mind,
one is of myself, I would’ve wished to take much better care.
During my mid-twenties I fell into the fire pit of addiction,
it led me down a rough path I would never like to admit,
caused stress on myself and family with a soul full of affliction,
the sad crime of hating my pitiful self I did commit.
I would rewind that exact moment I decided to take my first pill,
sorted out my sadness and anxiety in a much different way,
been better with finances and on time pay all my annoying bills,
maybe today my assets wouldn’t be in such disastrous disarray.
Oh, to have been able to redirect my attitude towards family,
stuck with the loved ones who were honest and on my side,
listened when given advice from the hearts of those who love me,
chosen much better people in whom which I should confide.
Sure, I do have dreams of changing things that happened in my past,
the greatest is trying harder to save my sister from committing suicide,
I lived to need her and breathed to help her; it all happened so fast,
I would give her one, no two more kisses expressing I’m on her side.
I sit here and think, as I write about what has already gone and came,
and in a fleeting moment I realize something about my sleepless night,
maybe...just maybe, I would keep my inevitable outcome the same,
for these things have inspired me with my intense passion to write.
Change My Past Contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Date Written: July 24, 2016