Best Nostalgialife Poems
The Aged Man
Authored by Chuck Keys
There is a sadness inside of him,
Draped by layers of heartaches and disappointments,
Insulated with his long beard, thickly white eye brows,
Unkempt brushy long dense white hair,
Dry peeling cracked lips, slightly ajar,
Showing his smoke stained chipped teeth,
Wearing a dark, soiled, bulky long scruffy ankle length coat,
Two buttons were missing,
With a 2" uneven tear at the bottom of its left side stained pocket,
A dirty powder-blue weathered wool and leather hat, with ear flaps down,
It was a long cold night, in mid-January, the month of his birth.
He moves like a man covered with fear and age, and maybe hunger too.
Mornings and evenings are but doorways
In and out of his leftover forgotten soul,
To the long endless days and nights, forlorn and grey.
He meanders about with a slow cautious gait, head down often times,
Eyes more closed than open, squinting even in the dark unlit night,
Torn gloved hands (with a large irregular frayed hole in the palm of the left),
Each hand fisted tightly for warmth,
Arms tightly at his side, stationary, not swaying,
Protectively wrapping himself inside,
Or just holding himself, maybe for warmth or some unexplained reason.
His life is full, the years buried deep inside.
The pounding aches inside, remembers his early years,
Ages ago, wrapped and protected inside his large family,
But never a part of it, not inside,
Always outside searching, for what can't be found, ever.
His own family that slowly left him was remembered,
Material children today, groundless at best,
That have no memory of what was,
Only what is or what will be.
Grandchildren that lacked life inside his hug.
The pounding aches inside; smirks, sometimes,
Knowing time and space, loving and giving, peace,
Remedy for all that ails.
He knows only what he knows,
He loved, loves and will always love.
Even alone, he is in joy, at peace.
The old man walked into his last mile, a short while ago,
His slow cautious gait, one small step after another, and another,
As the gates opened, he turned and looked behind,
Frowned and smiled,
With nothing left to say.
Even if present should be thought of
Even if work & life is in our present
At times nostalgic arrives in life
Which is running off to secure future
Past however bad or beautiful it is,
It's video never becomes dead.
Specially the childhood, innocent
In which our smile makes world smile
So beautiful! So shining!
Our chirping wakes house
Our speech touches heart
Our eyes innocent to take
Our nature imitating world
The best time never to come
But one's sad days, one hardly remember
The days when everything went wrong
The days when relations become emotional
The days in which our thought deny
Our future never thought of!
Family problem never thought of!
God why those days strike through!
In life full of helping nature
Still the cycle runs periodically
It should be, but it hurts!!!
by:-
Vrushani Thaker
I am in my mid twenties and life is slowing down,
I guess I am maturing, but I don't like the turn around.
Acquaintances today, don't know who I used to be,
wild, crazy, adventurous, dangerous, above all, free.
It started with a break up, because she found a new hub,
I was depressed, so my uncle asked me to bounce at his night club.
I was a teen, just a young pup,
quickly things started to look up.
After a month everyone knew my name,
So many beautiful women, I put Hef to shame.
Don't paint me wrong, with them I did not sleep,
but from there on, life started to get deep.
One night, God let an angel descend,
wait I know her, she is an old friend,
When we started to talk, we clicked and everything was right.
For the next few years, I swear, we owned the night.
No matter where we went, we were VIP,
for the first time, people wanted to be me.
It felt like the more people I got to know,
the further from reality, I did go.
A few bad habits formed along the way,
In that life, that goes without say.
Loud music, fast cars, whatever you need,
this is the life I thought I wanted to lead.
A few run-ins with the law, my friends paid the bail,
One night I didn't come home, they put me in jail.
That moment made me think about my life and that scene,
I said goodbye and for five years I've been clean.
I wasn't on anything major, I'll let you think,
but it is something that made my life quickly sink.
I do miss all the stares and the, “who is that guy?”
and doing what I pleased without being asked why.
I do miss it, because I had it all,
looking back on it though, I made the right call.
Desirous winds
now swiftly sweep
down mountain slopes
of stone so steep -
where boughs of broken ash
are scattered;
random timber torn and tattered.
I retreat to find
my jade and ruby cup,
to make sweet love to rich red wine,
fill my cup clear up,
drink and drain the goblet dry
to claim its love as mine.
Take me all or none,
use me up,
and when you're done
wrap slender arms around my waist;
kiss me there, oh yes, and taste
of me behind the bower,
planting seeds of need
which soon will bloom
sweet nectar's flower.
Alluring is your kind appeal,
like shimmer on green bladed grass
with silver tips of morning dew.
I glory in each inch of skin
as I begin to gently stroke
and marvel at its golden hue
The moss and mold of surface earth
leave banner scents to please my nose;
but bold and giddy-high in mirth
are bawdy ballads sung and told
in honor of your brightly painted toes.
I ponder as I wander this old field
once fertile with a decent yield,
now overused, some say abused,
for growth and life have not been fused.
The butler has a sadness in his eyes
I neither can dissect nor utilize;
lonely, I suppose, I wonder if he knows
one's life is but a grand surprise,
a farce that slowly grows
in drift toward death until life dies.
A poet pleases with his heart-felt runes
while singers please with oft sung tunes.
A painter paints to please,
on canvas or a wall,
but men of age in pain
don't gain or please at all.
Let us take this bitter time,
as winds whip high the mountain vine,
to retrospect our lives complete;
transparency without deceit.
We may just make a break-through
(though breaking through
is not the purpose of the game)
as we become both cast and crew
to watch a world now flow for us the same.
I once was young and now I'm old
but still I feel so brazen bold;
am I too old or still quite young
enough to sing the songs once sung,
not at the end--but just begun?
Nothing turned out the way I wanted it to.
Everything holy crashed down to hell.
No nothing turned out the way I wanted it to.
Thinking of it makes me unwell.
The fairytale guidelines never warned us
What happens when happy endings fail.
We never were told of the ripple effect.
That shakes out the last tooth and last nail.
Watching it start as a crack in the crown.
Passing it off to be nothing of worry.
It wasn’t long before walls toppled down;
Before the ceilings followed suit in a hurry.
It was sooner than later, but later than right,
By the time that this great kingdom crumbled.
When the stars flickered out, and all turned to night.
We sat in the dark and were humbled.
I would not rebuild it; for the design was at fault.
It was in the wrong that we stood for it to stand.
However the world itself is not to blame by default.
Blame goes to building vast dreams in the sand.
A fairytale dying, is an ugly thing to observe
It does not enjoy being prolonged.
It’s withering life I tried to conserve
Thus the fairytales memory I wronged.
Doubtless is the fact, the dream needed to die,
Laid to rest in the ground for some peace.
Yet a dream flying away towards the realm in the sky
Should not be signal for a world to cease.
The ground is unsuitable for a fairytale world,
But not for normal life to survive.
As soiled as it is now by war weapons hurled,
It doesn’t mean that all life forms should die.
The lights circle the room
Shining on all those plastic faces
Traces of a life that once was held
So deep inside of their marble eyes
Call for help through dry lonely tears
BLACKNESS
Deep, down inside their rotting hearts
The bleeding seems to never stop flowing
Growing, Multiplying, Dying, Never Trying
It's only a listless freedom of crying heroes
SILENCE
The music stops, Hearts stops beating
No more banging in your ears as you sleep
Drifting off to that place where tomorrow is
And today never comes to those who believe
Relieving bones of their muscles weight
The freight circles the room
Plastic faces look as you pass by
Places of your life lived fade away
To the areas of the mind forgot by man
And now it's too late to call for help through dry lonely tears
Form:
The Dusk of Life
Dusk is the time of life that darkness comes in minds to play.
Memories of yesteryear start knocking at heart’s door.
Faith once challenged by youthful ways torments those who stray.
Hope recalls truths, childlike faith God loves forevermore.
The days of thickets and briers in life once seized its path.
And fantasies of perfect love failed to come to pass.
At times when evil contemplations eased boiling wrath,
Seething minds forgot Holy God and rolled downhill fast.
Evil tiptoed into souls that had lived righteously.
Sinful whirlwinds ripped their way and took life on a spin.
Victims too soon disengaged, lived sorrows frantically.
Souls roamed through the ills of life wearing a bitter grin.
Then all around, the eyes could see wickedness relay.
Winding trails off righteous paths disguised as true love born.
The sinking sands pulled faithful hands through unholy days.
Tortured faithlessness grew; scorn was relentlessly worn.
Come now, dusk for it is time to recollect, repent.
Memories of yesteryear know errors of those days.
Light beyond forgotten roads reflects words by God sent.
Faith once challenged by one's youth at last derides the stray.
Sorrows for the errant ways are placed before the Lord.
The Son of God sends down his love, now and evermore.
Perfections sought and choices changed thrive by Christ adored.
Forgiveness granted by the Lord brings man joy once more.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 24, 2009
The risk of life is enjoying it
Much like gambling on something
An ending bringing vivid sorrow
Our everything becoming nothing
Heaven may be this time we have
Hell could be that time missing
Every second feels lost to fate
When you live a life of wishing