Best Nostalgia Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Nostalgia poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of nostalgia poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Nostalgia poems, articles about Nostalgia poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Nostalgia poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
See Also:
New Nostalgia Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Nostalgia poems are below this new poems list.
Nostalgia
by Younas, Ammar
Nostalgia
by Foster, Jordan
Nostalgia For Yesteryear Of Boyhood
by harris, matthew
NOSTALGIA
by Gauthier, Line
NOSTALGIA
by Strand, Brian
Nostalgia For Yesteryear Of Boyhood
by harris, matthew
Nostalgia
by B., Robertina
Flying On The Wings Of Nostalgia
by Sinha-Roy, Subimal
JOURNEYS OF NOSTALGIA
by Strand, Brian
Flames of Nostalgia
by Ibeh, Edward
View all new Nostalgia Poems
The Best Nostalgia Poems
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Gate,
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
Door,
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Angelic rapport:-
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
Enthuse...
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Implore?
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Say,
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Ray,
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2016
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
You were beautiful,
my tiny child,
wrapped tightly in my arms,
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless,
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.
Will you hear me
when I cry out?
Will you hold me close
as I held you then?
I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway,
cautiously,
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run?
no longer work?
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too?
I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.
I am proud too,
of my writing
and my drawing,
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you?
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth?
Will you be proud of me too?
I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however,
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.
But
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left,
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am?
You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love,
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.
I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.
You welcomed her home today-
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.
You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately,
"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "
Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
There is a scar
On my face
Small, steadfastly placed
One only notices if they are this close
To kissing my soul
On my cheek
Below the eyes and sideways
Beside the bubble-gum sweet
Mouth, vivacious story teller
like an upside down
sharp angled half moon
The endless emotions of my sky
So attractively rough
It attacks the delicate features of my face
Allowing my streetwise beautiful
Personality
To shine through, I don’t hide thetruth
It’s as plain as the scar on my face
Life isn’t ugly, you make it that way
Some days I wish it wasn’t there
But I always
Appreciate it’s presence
I won’t ever forget
When I received
The blow to my vanity
From a fight over youthful yearnings
Inside this
Is my learning processes
Scars hold history
I shall carry with me
Through tough times
Soft and easy, peaceful
To remind me
Of me
Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
I remember you, from when there was a spring
When the seasons were ripe, with verdant green
Our nimble feet danced in the wind
and on the brink of everything
Not a furrow in the brow of youth
We borrowed life for just awhile
and tapped our shoes on childhood's stage
where carefree laughter was the rage
that filled each age with promised smiles
We danced and twirled a twin ballet
just you and me on summer's waves
Two pirouettes, in mode of curls
of blossoms, frilled, and tender leaves
unfurled in winds, we found a way
to soar our wings, above the world
We knew not yet
of death or dying
or of regret, or cause for crying
But, something frowned upon the season
You caught the wind, and without reason
A colder wind
that kept you flying
far beyond my eyes could see
And to the other side
you disappeared
beyond my words
beyond my tears
Now here alone
I touch the day
and taste the night
remembering
I will walk alone, in autumn sun
And lay myself on dying leaves
I think of you and think of then
I feel the wind against my face
that sweeps me to a distant place
where I recall what time erased
I'm closer now... to hear the sound
The whisper of the seasons calling
Above the trees, the sky is blue
I think of you, and feel the breeze
And all the while, the leaves must fall
9/4/13
.......................................................................................................
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Contest: BEST SAD POEM EVER II
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains,
delicate pure white flakes danced;
swirling, twirling, rhythmically.
she stood, nose pressed tightly
against the window pane; gazing in awe
at the magic the snowflakes created;
as tears spill from her emerald green eyes.
the cabin is warm, radiating a comforting glow
a fresh pine scent lightly sweetens the air;
she fights the memories, as she begins to shake.
fingers entwined, she tries desperately to hang on
be present in the moment;
"stop, stop, stop" she says, stomping her feet;
she falls to her knees; quivering.
she holds tightly her arms and begins to rock,
feeling his presence in his favourite black sweater;
she cannot bring herself to take off.
giggling sounds permeate her thoughts
cocooned in his aura, his essence, his scent;
she feels his lips kiss the nape of her neck,
his strong hands caressing her hair.
she rocks and rocks, time ceases to stop,
as she falls deep into a rich
moulton pool; his smouldering brown eyes.
her lips part; barely into a smile at
his joy when he surprised her with the cabin;
their oasis away from home.
she wipes away a tear, beams from within
as she recalls the snowball fight, he lost, she won.
he scooped her up, carried her with glee,
over the thresh hold of their cabin;
their oasis; their heart's retreat.
a decadent white rug bought just for her
lay invitingly in front of the fire,
fiery orange embers crackled and glowed.
he gently laid her down; "my beauty" he said.
they drank champagne, drunk in each other,
wrapped up in his care, she felt peace.
as they lay basking in winter's afterglow,
he whispered "this is my time, i must go".
startled, she sat up, staring deep in his soul,
as snowflakes twirled and danced,
fresh pine lightly sweetened the air;
he breathed one final breath; then he let go.
her screams were not audible, her body convulsed
as she lay on his chest; her heart; her home.
she cursed the night and winter's afterglow
sobbing "not him, not him, please take me too".
she fights to bring herself back
to the here and the now,
as embers slowly dim, she wobbily stands
clutching tenderly his urn, she must set him free.
the stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains
she opens the window, where dreams breathed of life;
with tears cascading
she releases her love; her life;
to become one
with the magic of;
winter's afterglow.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke
Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared
Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……
For you
Would have placed
A magic carpet
‘neath your weak and shaky legs
Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again
Would have bribed
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain
Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again
Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old
Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark
And lonely soul
Be the girl
Playing games
In a world
The sun won’t set
Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke
I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day
I’m drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….
Copyright © Catman Cohen | Year Posted 2011
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
“Stardust Road.”
"Soft defense is driven by my thoughts,
I vanish away into yesterday’s scenic road,
Set the mood among the dark clouds,
Wish I could go back to the night, of fourteen and cold.
Tell me not to look up and cover myself with the world.
Sorry I could not stay,
One too many excuses & lies,
To where they never fixed themselves;
I could not handle the air,
I had to breathe right the cold nights that followed.
I stood as one in love, under the starry sky…
Young and alone, I left the never-ending vindictive feeling.
The dust slept every reason inside my soul.
I travel the world, snoozing with the magic of the sand.
Stars that echo and drop twinkles to my walking toes.
The horizon was my blanket and shield
Where the light and night I wore,
Accelerating, escaping no more justification!
"Oceans of excuses sailed through my soul,
Heartbroken, but in love with defiance toward the stardust novelty.
With a sigh!
I hesitate not to look back,
Somewhere the ages turn to rust:
Old and grey, all alone,
The leaves I stepped on then are trample and gone.
One day I shall return for the proper goodbye.
For now, I must travel down this lonely road silently.
Slowly my heart will heal itself, nurturing the frozen sleet away.
Releasing the 14-year old girl at last,
In a body a mind and soul,
Confronting her with an, I BELONG HELLO!”
By;PD
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
A reflection of the coloured pencil drawn sky
skates on the glass smooth surface below it.
While a rebellious group of shades take their positions
on a glorious stage to express themselves artistically and
I...
i think of you
Wisps of clouds shaped like a palm leaf
fan the winds that stoke the fire
of a randomly sketched sunset.
I...
i think of you
The cool of an ocean breeze
travels the shadows of this low lit evening.
Caresses my skin like the essence of romance.
Enthralled by the allure of a candle lit sky,
I...
i think of you...
Our French Bakery early mornings.
Café au lait and croissants.
Our freesia soaked baths.
Your mink soft body.
Its milk and honey scent.
As I fall off
the edge of the world,
I...
i think of you.
March 19 2015
Armand
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Dark honey tanned skin glistens
From the moisture of humidity.
The ladies flirt shamelessly with
You, but your eyes gaze upon me.
Your stature looms at six foot three.
Your swimmer's shoulders impress.
In our island sea we swim leisurely,
Traces of salt remain as you dress.
White sandy beaches, ever your haven.
We sip Riesling as the stars appear.
Nestled in your arms, time takes flight.
I feel so safe when you are near.
Your strength amply hides a tender heart.
The depth of your voice all admire.
When we first met I became enamored,
Feelings that quickly turned to desire.
We have shared so much over the years.
More happiness than dark sorrows.
Family treasures that brightly shine,
Reigning with love into our tomorrows.
In the autumn of our lives I feel the chill
Of winter's inevitable harsh advance,
Yet days of youth remain in our hearts,
Memories held, that time shall enhance.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day October 27, 2017
Late October Standard Contest-Third Place
Sponsor Brian Strand
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
My
breath
shivers under
a rug of loneliness,
a sleepy heart huddles
against such memories
of togetherness and not of
goodbyes, hating to disperse
the fiery rhymes of your lips,
as well as the warmth of its
sweat...tastes like red wine,
then it beats...and beats
gently, as it envisions
you, in an early
misty
s
p
r
i
n
g
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Her Grace, Soft As The Silence Of Morn's Falling Dew
Her romantic letters, birth as heart pure and true
supported deep vows we both swore to be held to.
Her grace, soft as the silence of morn's falling dew
with vows to keep hot passion of love that is new.
Spring had brought this loving angel truly divine
her beauty and purity no words could define.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
Nature spoke to her and she in turn gave away
nuggets of its splendors, rich truths none can betray.
As Heaven and Sky blessed her every foot fall
she never said, uttered a word needing recall.
Her time on earth, gifted only goodness and light
romancing her first love and precious was her sight.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
I read her yearning poetry each heartfelt verse
and in her rapture was my being’s full immerse.
Word-whispers from the page caressed me wispy thrill
reminding me of days sweet gilt of daffodil
and petals pink neath dream girl skies so soft, in sooth
enchanting was the tender season of her youth.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
In quiet hush before sunrise our love was lush
until aurora banished night in her gold rush
of dawning tipsy in wine-stained heavens shinin’
desires spilled our lusty reds across horizon -
a blaze of colors branding love’s intensity,
time and space sparked by fired hearts’ electricity.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
Enlightened spirit from defeat of sorrow’s foe,
her gift, in written verse of love, to set aglow
a life of beauty echoing the words of love
now distant in the skies with kindness up above
when golden strings of sacred lust remain in thrills
of woven love, entangled in a braid of frills.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
Her fragile throne of virtues goodness cast in gold
beyond eternal love, angelic charms behold
through mortal death returned to God’s celestial care
to guide from heavens, words of wisdom in her prayer
endowment of the past as lover’s hearts enlace
with charms beyond life, she remains my saving grace.
Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.
Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley and Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - unified in one poetic and indistinguishable voice.)
October 2, 2018
Note- It is my great honor and deep pleasure to once again help compose and present this our heartfelt and romantic presentation of life, love and beautiful
song and dance when in love with a goddess that stirs the smitten soul to shine and give thanks for its dear and sweet blessing.
Susan and Teppo, tho' it has taken a month to get this to completion, it has been a great joy to write and also discuss poetry with two such amazingly talented poets. I am truly and doubly blessed to have two such great friends and fantastic writing partners..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Listen to poem:
Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Shifting haze, so slowly trailing
Through wood and field, now veiling
Melancholy skies, holding back the tears
With wild geese flying to meet other years.
Flames of crimson torches come flinging
Leaves on knarled branch swinging;
Desolate winds rush leaping
Taking flowers to their final sleeping.
In the groaning of the atmosphere
Unfolding sorrows weep with the fading year;
Fields of cluttered stubble are tangled
With rampant weeds, dew drop spangled.
Flocks of birds leave like flying missiles
Over fields of corn and drying thistles;
Then my dream of autumn fades, paling
Through a grandeur all prevailing
When sunset fires light sky and sea
And sink in the breath of serenity.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
A path strewn thick with ruddy-faced leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in fantasies,
our near-death rescue from boredom
come afternoon chores and homework pages
wrinkled in time.
I try to recall all I tried to forget.
Back home, under the willow trees, I weep
for childhood, friendship,
for innocence surrendered,
all I thought I could keep, fuzzy lines
between love and loss,
practical days that come with age.
I close my eyes to see through tears -
you, a dance in rain showers, oval-spheres
of costume jewelry, tea parties and dragons slain
rays of sunlight climbed,
imagination uncaged,
carefree hours,
diamonds in darkness,
restless dreams fell like leaves
on the wrong side of the tracks.
Two kids set free in skies shaded gray -
we said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in make-believe worlds. How many years
passed by, miles kept between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while reminded
of our bitter, listless eyes,
our disappointment in distant words.
I hope you always knew the truth,
I loved you, dear friend.
It was myself, I hated.
Time cradled our laughter,
held it on the breeze,
childhood secrets
shared with ease on our path,
thick with summer's dead leaves.
We, too young to notice,
fell into brittle leaves
trodden bare
before first snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams,
chaffing our willow trees
still sulking low,
moss brushes away tears in timeless beauty,
and waits for you to come home.
An old poem, revised 3/15/17
249 words total
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
*/·)
*/ ·|
*/ · \
*(_·_)
.| · |
.| · |
.| · |
.| · |
.| · |
.| · |
/#|_.| · | /\
(##(_| · |,_)))
\###| · | /&/
\##)&__&&(
)##&__&&\
/#|&&&___.&\\
(##\_&&&_'._)|
\ ######## //
"+,_____,+"
Psychedelic notes,
Strummed with creative wonder:
From a lonely soul.
·
Music for the world,
Crying guitar solos hum:
Raining energy.
·
While his audience,
Awaited the finale:
Burning his guitar.
____________________
Inspired by Jimi Hendrix
Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
What things does one possess
at journey's end?
What bits and bobs? What trivial tripe?
Please, do tell, what is the hype?
For should I recall anything at all
of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
it would be the warmth of a companion's smile;
his hand in mine, while on this earth for a while.
The tickle of a tide brushing against tiny toes,
while the whisper in the wind, tells me all she knows.
Should I gaze at gems, pearls, rubies, emeralds--
Forsake the wisdom of the solid for the beauty of the temporal?
Should I throw caution to the wind, like seeds for the birds,
or stick to what I know - the solemnity of the written word.
Of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
be there anything at all worthy of my recall?
Happiness, Peace, Love and Joy -
these remained to be my one and only lot.
These intangible things more valuable by far
than gold and silver ingots.
At journey's end I stopped to ponder,
in the cloudless starlit night,
about the heavens and her wonder;
I was struck by sudden insight:
the lightness of the moon
suspended in air,
and the weight of a mere thought
that put it there.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2015
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Leaning against the warmth of old oak,
I recall your sun burnt skin that summer.
As I let my fingers linger on the side of the bench where you used to sit,
a memory - like noon day’s sun light, seeps into my senses.
A light wind ruffles my hair at the nape of my neck,
that same spot you liked to kiss.
You said we were royals as we scattered bread crumbs for our loyal subjects.
Where have those pigeons gone?
I lift my face to sky and close my eyes,
breathing in the scent of nearby roses;
suddenly something tickles my cheek! I open my eyes to see a butterfly,
its color that of your sun burnt skin.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Love is a rainbow mirrored in the sky
Its free, its beautiful and tells no lies
A gleaming reflection
Upon the still of a pond
The dewy mist on a freshly cut lawn
Love is a sanctuary for our innermost fears
A tiny capsule to hold all of our tears
A symbol of beauty, rare to be found
Its strength and convictions
Knows no bounds
Love is the touch of our first newborn
So soft, so delicate, so easy to adore
An unconditional consenting of souls
An awareness, a spirit, unique to its own
Love soothes and heals though cannot be bought
An eternal commitment so widely sought
Love is a truth and blossoms for few
A necessity of life, a uniting of hearts
A palette so stunning, so beautiful and new
Love is how I feel for you.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
Who would I bring back, if I had only one
Perhaps a great leader, Kennedy or Lincoln
Or I could choose a musical icon
Such as John Lennon or Michael Jackson
Maybe a legend of the silver screen
Maybe Marilyn Monroe or James Dean
All gifts to the world, but the selfish truth
I would bring back the mother of my youth
The mother who, with sublime grace,
Applied lipstick and blush to her ivory face
The mother whose delicate jasmine perfume
Filled my childhood's every room
Whose all-day-long-to-cook beef stew
Was the first comfort food I knew
Her dancing steps, so full of ease
Until the claws of arthritis seized
Her laughter so free, her hugs so giving
Before these days of assisted living
I would return the fire to her hair
And raise her from the wheelchair
And, as I used to, watch her choose
Her dress, earrings, necklace and shoes
Then she'll softly kiss my cheek
Before going out, coiffed and sleek
To her I would give my own energy
To be, again, the woman in my memory...
10/09/18
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Who Would You Bring Back' contest
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
FLUTTER BY BUTTERFLY
DANCE YOUR WAY ACROSS THE SKY
WITH YOUR TISSUE PAPER WINGS THOSE DELICATE AND DAINTY THINGS
FLASH WITH COLOURS OH SO BRIGHT STILL SHINING IN THE MORNING LIGHT
NATURE’S GREATEST WORK OF ART IT CANNOT HELP BUT STIR THE HEART
TO SEE THIS SPLENDID CREATURE IS THEIR NOT A BETTER FEATURE
OF THE BRITISH SUMMERTIME THAN SUCH AN INSECT SO DEVINE
EVER VIVID ALWAYS TRUE OH I KEEP THE BRIGHTEST HUE
WRAPPED INSIDE MY MEMORY FOR HARDER TIMES AHEAD OF ME
WHEN I’M IN NEED OF A SMILE I’LL STOP AND RECOLLECT A WHILE
THE BUTTERFLY’S HAPPY DANCE AND WITHIN MY PEACEFUL TRANCE
I FIND A SENSE OF CONTENT AT THE SUMMER THAT I SPENT
DREAMING WITH BUTTERFLIES
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,
So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,
Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,
Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing,
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
On the south-western side of the old mission school,
on the corner of 1st, where the blackberries grew
a field claimed by children, was crosshatched with tracks
It was riddled by gophers and, nettled with foxtails
and youthful bare feet had constructed thin trails,
cupping deep paths that were littered with smiles,
deep in the amber of weeds and tall grass.
It wasn't far beyond a patched wire fence
that hemmed my Grandmother's russet old house.
Westerly whirlwinds would rattle the ragweed,
while seeds of the bull-thorns, that prickled our toes,
would race with the tumbleweeds, tossed into rows
like last winter's snowmen, worn to the bone
There were traces of honeysuckle mixed with wild rose
from Grandma's old arbor, that loomed in the distance
A rusty old weathervane, cruised 'round, and 'round
The ivy was overgrown, and a sleepy old hound
would snooze by the clothesline, in shade he had found
But, deep in the field, was a land of our own
A place we called 'Neverland', a loft in the wind
In the yoke of one tree, with the help of our dad
was a fort built of scrap wood, from piles by the shed.
And by hook or by crook, I would take all commands
While my brother's brewed brainstorms, and his black plastic hook,
assigned him the Captain, while I was the crew
of a ramshackle galleon, brought to life from our books
While I dangled in air, from a tired old swing
"Tinker", my name...in this masculine game..
I would push off, while he pulled me, right up to the sky
and into the branches, with leaves in my eyes......
I would fly to the depth's of a steel gray-blue sky
I would grovel, and shovel, to have his approval........
for he was much older, much wiser than me
I would play like a tomboy,.....shove doll-drums away
Such sweet summer days,......while bright splintered rays
of hot summer sun, would spotlight our play.
We would stay until twilight, to watch the sun die
Defying all gravity.......I could see to eternity
Tootsie Pops clung to the tip of our tongues
while the sun of the twilight, dipped over the dunes
and the call of our mother, slipped over the moon
____________________________________________________________
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
The steep waning of duskfall held by one
Cuddled by a wheeze , the dim air’s pale light,
Nestling upon boughs of memoirs undone
As scenes rise mildly with an ached delight.
Although fall plunges into my own depth,
Giving way to chills of winter ,prolonged
So must spring blossom with a fragrant breath
For roam I must through peaks of Augusts’ song.
And musings dip upon the faltering wings
A blazed remembrance of seasons’ refrains;
Snuffed by love’s risk, hardened from cold warning
Oh time withers, breaks ...still I call your name.
Hearts evade pleas, sweet moments gone astray
That now I rest on a crib of old stars
But such is life allowing what is the way;
To gather new treasures...near or afar.
Judy Konos' C'est La Vie
11/5/2014
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
There she stands
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender
Precariously she balances.
I reach out for her
Draw her to me
My hand skims her body
Slowly reaching her skirt.
Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.
Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.
Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.
Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.
Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2008
Details |
Nostalgia Poem
|
This is too complex; i mean the throbbing wound
grating my belly on a dappled day, a day
breathing of tender winds and violins. Perhaps,
the strains of notes shuttle me back
to my grandfather’s library sitting on books
and archaic telescopes. Here, we would
empty the shoulders from a rough sail;
he scattering fiddle songs on painted walls…
the mellow notes tasted like hints
of vanilla scent warmed by cadences
of burning musical passion as his eyes ,
half-closed ,melted the noise
of an anxious world, of teary wrongs.
‘Bathe in the splendor of the night,’ he mused,
submitting to a trance smitten by some refrains
of Moonlight Serenade… and my rubber spine
would bend with the flesh of his vibrating hands;
violin strings weeping till we drowned in holy streams.
Now, I feel these undefined memories… the phantom
of light exhumed his lust for old charm;
and my eyes fall on the alley of roaming vagueness.
I could have loved him more than heaven
plucking his strings so soon, uninvited.
Nayda Ivette Negron's Memories Contest
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014