Best Nostalgiaheart Poems
Second chances are rarely granted
Wishes on stars are eternally chanted
I come to you in pieces to make me whole
I look into your eyes, but somehow see your soul
Your dreams of breaking out, being free someday
Searching for the answers, looking for the way
Encountering a light hidden so well
Likewise I’m hiding behind a mangled veil
My heart in your grasp, my innocence unused
Your hands I take in mine, callused and bruised
A moment of harmony, yet the note struck hard
The eyes of your heart are broken and marred
Use me once and I’m yours to discard?
My trust in you is forever charred
Now I’m hiding my scars yet you see them too
But what you don’t see, is I've been scarred by you
Form:
(Tribute to the movie “Out of Africa”)
I gave my heart to Africa…
There, on a farm,
In those vast green plains,
With coffee perfume in
The crispy air…
I had a farm in Africa…
Where the gazelle dance
In the sweaty breeze,
Grazing and jumping and kicking
Right into the lions’ claws…
I lived in the very soul of Africa…
Where the giraffes reach
High above the stars
And the moon lay
Carelessly on her back,
Watching over the savannah.
I had a farm in Africa…
Where the jungle would
Sing its song for the
Prudent bush-hunters.
Where buffalo and wildebeests
Cross the blue
Into the waters, giving themselves
To the ancient crocks…
I left my heart in Africa…
And now she sings a song of me,
The air shivers with the colors
That I had on,
And children play in the fields,
Looked over by the eagles
That once soared for me…
© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila
Zeitgeist - My 1960s - Liz Walsh
Kaftans, mini-skirts, Carnaby Street fashions.
Angel Delight, Hirondelle wine and that sheepskin rug.
"The price of round steak on a Saturday" while
Magdalen Laundries kept dark, dark secrets!
Nylon socks, Cuban heeled boots, body odour -
"it's always the girl's fault - she led him on!-
Button-down collars, civil Rights Marches,
Suspender belts old fashioned, false eye-lashes black -
Excitment, tights, "parents afraid of the new".
Stilletto heels crucifying, Rosary beads grumbling -
"Oh Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee"
Hamburgers, Fleetwood Mac, Anoraks - guilty! remember
Archbishop McQuaid! Bishop Lucey bullying Father Good!
"Wimpey Take-away" - meet a fella - womans lib!
Vietnam War, Albert Hall and Wilson Pickett.
"Would you kiss a boy on the first date?
Drip dry nylon, Dickie Rock gyrating
"Plastics are the future” the graduate said.
"Would you take the pill?"
Tayto crisps - "cheese and onion" munching in the dark.
Che Guevara, Mao Tse Tung and that little red book
In an empire line dress.
Church domination, contraception and major cigarettes
"Back-combing" Vesta Curries and a packet of smash
Maxi, mini, midi-dresses - pan-stick
Mary Quant, Twiggy and the Film Society party.
Flirting innocently, terrified hope - guilt ridden thoughts.
Surges of males, females standing
Eyes scanning, high pitched laughing
"Would you like to dance?"
Free love, flower power, heart thumping
Expensive shoes, a relic of St. Imelda and a chain-store dress -
"She will only get married” Miss Brigid Hayes said!
Afraid of the future, afraid of corruption
Brain exploding - ALL MIXED UP -
Form:
Nothing like Gayle’s homemade chili wafting throughout her home
To make even the hardest heart feel comforted and less alone
I met an earth angel when I was a merely sixteen and a half
Her spirit was as inviting and as contagious as her laugh
The very first moment we met I felt I had known her forever
Perhaps in another life I was her daughter and her my mother
Tears rush to my eyes and my heart leaps as I write and weep
As it speaks volumes of how my connection to her is so deep
Immediately drawn to her beauty which resonates warmth and compassion
I longed to be just like her, with the same values, integrity and passion
Older than I, yet youthful and beaming with such strong intense light
Gayle is unusually gorgeous, significantly intelligent and bright
Twenty six years later I receive a call and she is there for me like before
Not just to share my grief for the loss of my father but much more
A white flower bouquet, a ‘Care of the Soul,’ book, a card depicting a work of art
Filled with her original loving words and a talk that healed my heart
Still to this day she is my idol, my guru, my mentor, my ‘other,’ mother
Her abilities are immense her talents are many and her spirit like no other
With the originality of Martha Stewart she wraps gifts and decorates her house
Cooks a feast like Emeril, writes like Thomas Moore and sings like Alison Krauss
A phenomenal writer, and college professor, there is nothing she can’t teach
She resides in harmony with nature in a chateau overlooking the beach
In my next time around when I have self actualized enough to deserve less strife
I hope to be her, with all her wisdom and spiritual depth, and have her exact life
You were the first of all my loves
the first to wake my heart
the one to make it beat so wild
pierced now with cupids dart
You looked my way and stole my breath
you turned a school girls head
I was love struck there and then
hung on every word you said
Perhaps I was a little young
but my heart at your feet I lay
and gladly offered you my soul
to do with as you may.
How I longed for you to want me
I was just the sister of a friend
still I would sit and dream of us
…..but dreams are just pretend
Years ago I fell for you
but for me you were never right
and though my heart may flutter still
it no longer leaps on sight
You were the first of all my loves
and so you'll always stay
but in my heart the space you hold
is now a corner out the way.
Saturday 9th April 2011
Written by Emma Mantle
For Frank Herrera's contest YOUR FIRST KISS, FIRST LOVE, or FIRST BROKEN HEART
2nd place
I was turning ten and learning the tricks
The year was 1956
I remember that my mother cried
The day that Tommy Dorsey died
I still believed in Santa Claus
James Dean was a Rebel without a cause
Green Door was a rockin’ tune
Patty sang about the Allegheny Moon
Russia’s relation with Hungary thinned
Gogi Grant sang The Wayward Wind
Love was a many splendored thing
I still can hear Fats Domino sing
Carl was wearing Blue Suede Shoes
While Guy Mitchell was Singing the Blues
The movie East of Eden was so fine
A young Johnny Cash was walking the line
Robert Young in Father Knows Best
Gunsmoke was about the Old West
The Edge of Night and As the World Turns
I’ll Cry Tomorrow, my heart still burns
Be Bop A Lu La Gene did render
And Elvis crooned Love Me Tender
In Poland the people fought for a goal
We listened to No Not Much and Heart And Soul
The Navy answered Mr. Robert’s Calls
There was the premiere of Guys and Dolls
Black and White TV had Roy, Gene and Tom Mix
What a wonderful year, 1956.
Twinkle Twinkle little star
How unfortunate you are
To sit in the ski all night and day
While other’s send wishes your way
They wish for love, fortune and fame
They wish for everyone to know their name
They wish to be tall, skinny and smart
They wish and believe in you with all their heart
But they do not know the feelings that you have
And that sometimes you make their wishes go bad
The fact that we get to walk around feely
Fills the stars heart with jealousy
So with a hateful stare it throws our wishes back
And with each wish thrown, the star gains a crack
And before long the star loses its shine
And it plummets to the ground, with beauty divine
And before it hit’s the ground it grants one final wish
One for a mother, and her young daughter’s happiness
The star makes its penance as it strikes the ground
Though through its tears it never makes a sound
‘I’m sorry’ the star cries for all the ignored wishes in the past
‘I wish I could go back and fix them’ but it’s fading fast
Its wish has been thrown back by another
Who doesn’t want to bother
As the star continues to throw them back
He starts to gain all his cracks
So watch for the star in the ski that looks mad
And keep your wishes for another that won’t make them bad
And remember the saying that is so true
Keep it in your heart close to you
If you make a wish on a broken star
You dreams will not make it very far
The Train…Zoom!
As the memory drifts in again
Capturing the richness of love.
Reminiscence my heart did win.
Visits with grandmother, beloved.
Capturing the richness of love.
We, arm in arm, adventure bound.
Visits with grandmother, beloved.
Two on a train ride to a nearby town.
We, arm in arm, adventure bound.
The day trip grandmother had planned.
Two on a train ride to a nearby town.
The picnic basket was in her hand.
The day trip grandmother had planned.
She and I together, enjoyed the park.
The picnic basket was in her hand.
We stayed and played ‘til almost dark
She and I together, enjoyed the park.
It was the first train ride we two shared.
We stayed and played ‘til almost dark
It was special; I knew she cared.
It was the first train ride we two shared.
On the way back, we had our own room.
It was special; I knew she cared.
Lullabies, whistles, and sounds from the train…zoom!
It was the first train ride we two shared.
Reminiscence my heart did win.
It was special; I knew she cared.
As the memory drifts in again
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 24, 2010
Dedicated to one of my two wonderful grandmothers... They both live on in my heart.
Why does it hurt so much when we love?
When that one certain person is all we think of?
Those long sleepless nights when we are alone,
We lay there and wonder…where did we go wrong?
Did I love too much, too little, too late?
Have I crossed that thin line between love and hate?
Is he happy these days, now that he's moved on?
Does he ever look back and feel sad that I'm gone?
Why is it that people want BACK what we've lost?
No matter how painful, no matter the cost.
Our ego, our pride, our mind and our soul...
We give those up freely; our heart pays the toll.
It's hard to move past all the grief and the pain,
If I thought he still loved me, would I do it again?
Would I want to go through all the stress and the strife?
Or decide to be lonely the rest of my life?
I loved him enough to leave him behind;
Allowed him to search and eventually find
The one he's with now, who has taken my place,
So he never will see all these tears on my face.
I have tried my best to be a good friend
To this man I still love, and will till the end.
He knows that he hurt me so deeply and yet,
I've learned to forgive him, but never forget.
I never have known a love such as this.
I miss his embrace, and his warm gentle kiss.
When I close my eyes, it's HIS face I still see.
I hope that in time my heart will be free.
Free to love and be loved in return.
And to feel those emotions for which I so yearn.
It seems that one person will always love more,
And the one left behind will hear love's closing door.
I know that one day I will learn to let go,
And the pain of the past I will try not to show.
For a love that was felt so deep and so true,
I will feel once again with somebody new.
I will always remember the love that we shared.
How sweet my life was when I knew that he cared.
But those days are over; it's all in the past.
So, what is the secret to make true love last?
When Portland is soaked wet with rain
And the rivers overflow
When soil washes away again
And no sunset is aglow
Do you climb the hill to DeMonteven
And look with longing towards the cove
Does your heart search trees and heaven
Followig the cries of the wild wood dove
When the Pouie blossoms falling
Cover the meadows in gold
At Mona on a quiet evening
Does a longing grips the soul
Will you walk to Golden Grove again
The moon is asleep in an empty room
Smile like a sheet and cover the pain
The missing years are hungry with gloom
Lewis ask me for you, and I just
Could not reply, you vanished
Like banana wharves full of dust
Like drought in which men famished
Like sugarcane lands swept away to make space
For the new architecture that status boom
A veneer in an economy of labor's disgrace
Lewis spoke about you Alma in his gloom
Shall I tell him I saw you last
In that dress of gold, the same
You seem to wear, as if to cast
A spell, or to cover shame
That all your dreams was but a wounded flight
You cannot wipe like sweat that banana stain
That memory of a softer, gentler night
That longing in the heart sweet as a Portland rain
It is the city's fault, my dear
Enticing dreams from the bush
Leaving the banana like fear
Fraying us in the wild rush
You were a better soul than we esteem
I heard your kindness spoken to me
The promise to pay for a withering dream
The selfless gift of you honesty
And yet for this you were abused
Did you hear the hand repent
The heart knew too late how it losed
The better soil, the content
Of truth, left wasted in the city's dark
Gone, gone, all goodness gone
Except the memory of your loving mark
Upon Portland now and sun filled dawn
*Things I Miss*
I miss the soft touch of a woman's hands on my back
while we lay in bed just to relax.
The warmth of her body as we entwine
and the softness of her lips on mine.
The hand in hand walks
and heart to heart talks
that I see myself leaving behind.
The playful fighting,
and gentle biting,
these things are always on my mind.
A person there at night to hold
on nights like this that are so cold.
I miss these things so often overlooked
as if I'm trying to live some story in a book.
I'll hold onto these thoughts & feelings though,
until I find them or its my time to go...
"Sometimes its hard to see whats right in front of us, so I'll keep my eyes wide open & in
my heart I'll trust."
Dino Bravo
1/20/2010
I held a memory in my arms
one night, not long ago,
how strong was she,
how weak was I;
the rush of past love
ran through my veins,
the flood of pain
ran through my heart,
this feeling, this confusing feeling
I held tightly with closed eyes.
Suddenly, I wasn't me,
I was him.
Yes, I was him!
A young man, no, a boy,
not knowing how to love,
faking my way through it all,
seeing her face with closed eyes,
feeling the years with closed arms,
I didn't want to let go now,
I never wanted to let go then,
the embrace of a thousand lifetimes,
the tears of a million years,
I had to let go,
I had to unlock my grip,
I needed to open my eyes;
once again, she was gone,
but the person was still there,
she was standing in front of me.
A memory locked away
suddenly spewed forth by another;
A clone? A reincarnation?
Not possible, not likely.
Another who touched deep inside me,
a heart connecting to a soul,
a life giving life back
to a weary traveler in time,
an embrace, a simple human act
gave motion to a body at rest;
that feeling, never ever duplicated
finally awakened from its prison,
the embrace of old in totally new,
the heart of one touching
the broken soul of another,
connecting with that one long embrace.