Best Nostalgiaautumn Poems
You remain in me.
Like how the stars remain in the sky,
hidden in the light of the sun
yet shining in the darkness of the twilight.
And like a seed
thrown on the golden autumn soil
and embraced by a blanket of snow,
you remain.
When suddenly, unexpectedly blooming
with the first rain of spring.
You remain in the depths of me.
While in the midst of passion and my racing heart
I see your face.
Then outside it drizzles,
but inside it rains.
And just when I thought
the slightest echo of your laughter has faded,
just when your song
stopped running in my head,
I'm awakened.
No more.
You're not with me.
Yet still.
You remain in me.
Oh Autumn, how I love your days
Your brilliant multicolored sights
But, I'm sorry that I just can't say
The same thing about your nights.
For your cold damp autumn nights
Bring with them your autumn mists
And within your mists dwell sights
That I would just as soon resist.
Those Painful sights that stab the heart
From memories that wound the most
Sights that have torn my life apart...
Sights, that have long become ghosts.
Those long since banished ghosts
That dwell there within your mists
Those ghosts that boast the most
Of my bitter sentimental trysts.
Some ghosts have anguished eyes
Who in their sorrow point and glare
And others who just drift quietly by
Seem, as if they were impaired.
Still others clutch at barren breasts
While feeling some forgotten pain
Entombed within their misty nests
Waiting there, eternally in vain.
I do try hard to not look or stare
But sometimes I just can't resist
Those ghosts that dwell out there
Within your cold damp autumn mists.
Oh Autumn, how I love your days
Your warmth and brilliant sights
But Oh sweet Lord, to Thee I pray
Please save me from autumn nights!
Timothy I. Brumley
Her thoughts drift out the window
on the cool autumn breeze
and a smile creeps upon her withered face
as she remembers the first time she saw
this house
This house that is so old and worn
like her heart
and she sways to the music in her mind
as a tune tumbles from her memory
she dances and twirls across the floor
as the melody carries her dream
back to the days when he was still alive
and would sweep her into his arms
and kiss her wrinkled brow
she stops in mid-stride and a tear rolls
down her leathery cheek
and she smiles
a smile for the love they shared
when they were caught up in their
dreamers dance.
Ambling along a country lane, a weathered barn caught my eye.
Nigh it stood a crumbling silo, yet reaching for the sky.
Oaks raised leafless arms heavenward, on that bleak autumn day,
As if in supplication, pleading to deter its inexorable decay.
The once sturdy structure was now in forlorn shambles,
Nearly over taken by tall grasses, weeds and brambles.
On its weathered boards were traces of faded reddish paint.
A Mail Pouch Tobacco mural graced one side, tho' very faint.
Atop the sagging roof was a rusted, squeaky weather vane,
Turning listlessly at the whim of the fickle wind's gust or wane.
A lightning rod, even in its day, considered somewhat odd,
Had collapsed - its copper pinnacle buried beneath the sod.
Rusty hinges protested as I opened the door and ventured thro'.
I startled a flock of pigeons, creating bedlam as they flew!
Mice skittered across the floor in the dimly filtered light,
As they raced about in confusion in their frenzied flight!
What once had sheltered cattle and stored the farmer's grain,
Was the hapless prey of the lashing storms' complete disdain.
For such old abandoned barns, I have a very special affinity,
And enjoy visiting them whenever I am in their vicinity!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Even though she knows I love her
I cannot tell her and she knows why
It's not because I'm shy
But, I look in her eyes
and they are oceans
every blink a wave
that washes to the shore
Her hair Autumn leaves on trees
yellow, red, and auburn rolling down
to the mountians valleys
that rest on her shoulders
Her body, slinder and yet
in perfect places it curves in
then curves out, then curves back in
as a womans body should
Her walk, mesmerizing
Her essence is as such
like when she leaves her seat
her warmth remains
her soft perfume
leaves one breath of sweet air
Her memory, a face that looks at me
and speeks without words
"She speeks yet she say's nothing.
What of that?"
(One of three Bessemer women who helped me escape heartache.)12-18-96
The autumn moon shines, as the sky fades to black.
The wind crisp and cool is blowing at my back.
Theres one star shining.
I make a wish upon it.
I breathe the cool breeze and for a moment I am sent back.