Best Nostalgically Poems
It was in September that Poetry first came to me -
a time when summer’s embers, for me had not yet caught fire
until, that is, Poetry walked casually toward me
wearing bell bottoms and a young man’s angel face.
Visited by such exquisite grace, I felt the spark of sweet desire’s flame.
Our kisses in the night made my spirit sing; the flame leapt higher.
Yes, a night to remember is what my angel boy gifted me,
and though the fall was near, I was in the springtime of my youth.
The years have come and gone gone gone
Memories of my old flames are cinders now, softly glowing In my mind.
They cannot be revived to brightly glow again; they are the past.
After Poetry walked in all those years ago,
a few decades passed. One day I felt the urge to put pen to paper.
Recalling nostalgically the fire that once had so consumed me,
tender words flowed from me; passion was reborn!
Recreating fantasy, I became the lady who danced the unicorn,
who lived, and who still lives romance, again and again and again,
for the passion now is in my pen!
It was in September that Poetry first came to me.
I just didn’t know it then.
Categories:
nostalgically, beauty, poetry, romance,
Form:
Free verse
The cafe burnt alive as soon as you
Set your patent leather boot inside
And walked right into this unknown,
Mysterious yet familiar world
Of witty writers and pious poets
With their poetic pens.
My tantalizing timid eyes
Met your musically amused eyes,
And I heard a symphony unsung,
Strange, how can you be just a stranger,
When your eyes can speak so much danger,
Then how much your heart would want to say, stranger.
Strangers don't sing symphonies,
Nor do they linger nostalgically
Like a locket on an ashen neck.
They don't even say hello,
And there I sat with my cold heart,
Wondering like a bashful bard,
What were the chances,
Those burning glances,
And you left aloofly
With your latte
Leaving the ashes behind.
Soot everywhere,
Here and there,
On my lips where
Your eyes lingered,
On my fingertips,
Wanting to write
The desires of the
Waltzing, woozy heart.
Categories:
nostalgically, deep, desire, love, muse,
Form:
Free verse
March
Sweet, bitter March,
last year tears haven’t dried out up
till now and yet you
are already at the door,
knocking lightly!
Sadness is still flapping over my head like
a frantic goose, what have you brought with you
to silence its primordial honking?!
I can see your hunched silhouette against the wall
Of my waiting, standing awash with shame,
wringing your empty hands desperately!
O' March , anniversary of tears and smiles,
Memories are pacing around nostalgically, sniffing
the withered roses, leafing through the pages of books
trying to put the haphazard leftovers of a once
beautiful image into shape…
The hurricane that accompanied you once
has subdued, leaving behind a nerve-tearing silence and
a deracinated life!
Don’t wonder; rootless hopes are still roving
over the corpse of a long dead dream, taking
strength from the ever pulsating stars…
March, March , embracer of birth and death,
the breath of eternity has abandoned
your rosy-cheeked child..
The resonance of its happy giggles are
haunting the vacant hours of night, sending me
reeling of longing!
Its face emerges from among the clouds of years, an angelic
Vision imprinted on the face of a mourning moon!
Categories:
nostalgically, nostalgia, march,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I can’t bear that rock in my shoe,
As I sit, I glance up mesmerized by the sunset’s view.
Seven deep in a grocery line,
The wonderful innocent stare of a baby and mine align.
Two minutes ‘til the microwave dings.
I’m lifted on wings while the voice above nostalgically sings.
Dropping my change all over the ground,
It’s a wonder these tiny ants can amass such a mound.
Traffic slowed to a halted gridlock,
Listen to the honks leading that swaying vee of a flock.
Keys locked inside my car,
The horizon is so clear today, I can see so far.
Coffee dripped upon my shirt,
I’ll go in and change giving my darling a romantic flirt.
My dog drops a load on their lawn,
To their magnificent flower garden my eyes are drawn,
Drive thru with limited crew,
I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular sunrise hue.
If only I could stop on my own accord,
I would readily see creation’s beauty gifted from my Lord.
Categories:
nostalgically, beauty, creation, environment, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Sitting next to me, you turn pages of our album
Unfolding sweet memories, treasured longingly,
Revealing verses of love in ballad of setting sun
Glittering autumn’s twilight on golden foothills
As blazing meadows inflame yearnings of visions
Beckoning us to horizon’s gamboge ebullience.
You remind me how we snuggled in its essence
When evening enchanted moonlit mountains
Stealing zealous glance of seductive passions
As tenor of desires rustled in crimson vistas
And smitten eyes gleamed in ruby winds of fall
Beneath millions of stars glinting heavens above.
Slowly you uncover amour of lingering dreams
Recalling fondly when we planted our seedlings
Watching them grow into vibrant blossoming trees
As spring of our lives bloomed scented flowers
And burgeoning seasons tallied passage of time
Reminiscing nostalgically in allure of bygone era.
Faded are the photos we peruse through now,
Amid falling leaves drifting on wings of eventide;
Each floating leaf evokes moment from the past
Inscribing its imprints upon autumnal canvas
As resplendent panorama revels our happy hearts
Swaying rhythms of night in your romantic aura.
August 1, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 20 – Free Verse 3 – Poetry Contest
Title chosen: Amid Falling Leaves
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
nostalgically, autumn, imagery, memory,
Form:
Free verse
In my treasures like all of us hold,
I have a bedspread, a fad of old.
My mother cut millions of circles of scraps,
From our little outgrown dresses she’d hold.
She’d sew each circle into a little puff
And lay it out on a sheet of pale green,
Then make circles of that same pale green
To design squares of printed circles between.
(Now if that is confusing, don’t mind what I mean
Heirlooms are hard to explain, it seems).
I still have that bedspread so fragile now,
Many connecting threads broken and rot,
When I drape that yoyo bedspread on my lap,
And touch and feel the so many scraps,
Then recall when I wore this dress or that,
And my sister and I played in floppy scrap sun hats
I remember nostalgically those evenings when
My little mother’s needle punched out and in.
Categories:
nostalgically, nostalgia,
Form:
Bonfire burning merrily shooting sparks
that hop and dance in bright moonlight.
On the top is the guy smoke covers feet
as the flames lick ever higher consuming.
Catherine wheels spinning colours madly
while children's sparkles form misty shapes.
The sky lights up as rockets fly and burst
into spectacular colour with thunderous blast.
Hot baked potatoes warming up cold hands
and the glorious smell of sizzling sausages.
Guy well alight burning brightly, sparks flying
slowly now the fires die and the sky turns silent.
With happy sighs the children run home
to hot chocolate with melting marshmallows.
Their eyes gleaming and red noses shining
they clamber up to bed with excited whispers.
Tradition now, over and done for another year
tomorrow a big clean up will be needed.
For now, all rest locked in their memories
of this year and nostalgically of others past.
Categories:
nostalgically, fire, firework,
Form:
Verse
It's still alive, the rose he gave
Coral pink like the blush of our cheeks
It's life makes my own so worthless
Thriving upon nothing, for weeks
They say that colors make the mood
I don't live by what others say
I only pick the ones I want to hear
And then I go on my way
If he is happy I know not
I only know this old rose is still pink
If the sky is crying, let me cry too
Washing away each tear as I blink
Fading as each day passes by
But faithfully retaining it's hue
Lying nostalgically beside my bed
Stunningly against the wall's blue
Categories:
nostalgically, absence, beauty, lonely, longing,
Form:
Quatrain
You fill cavities in me I never knew were there
Like you dug inside and wildly bloomed
I felt your inviting light invade the sleep
‘Til I was jarred, shorn up, and doomed
I still think somehow I will I saturate you, too
When he doesn’t love you the way that I do
When I sleepwalk and find myself in you
I watch you late night when you dance to infinity
With a fire I wish you’d feel for me
Brimming and beautiful and ineffably free
As though you and I were meant to be
I sleep for days to shake you off
I see you out and nostalgically stop
I watch you blush as I plainly stare
You laugh and go on unaware
but
how
you
bleed
through the mind-numbingly empty
And blunt humdrum liars and sickening travesty
I pick you out of the crowd with such fluttering ease
You stick out like the moon through the autumn trees
Sometimes you smile as you watch me pass by
But I am letting you go, this time, this night
I am nothing against your backdrop of sky,
A shadow within your celestial light.
Categories:
nostalgically, lost love, love, mythology,
Form:
Rhyme
The Golden Stool
Offer me the sacrosanct golden stool
To rest my bottom,
Cursed! And of course abominable it is
The Asantihene possesses it,
I will rather then be banish from being;
And become a bottomless bottoms
A riddle riddled with contour,
It is uncomfortable anyway,
I will rather seat on an armchair
Listening to the howling wind from Elmina;
Telling stormy tales of the beginning,
Of million sunk soul ancestors departed;
In ocean-farer Columbus minute sail,
Neither I examine buttocks of Homo- erectus
With magnifying glasses,
Nor listen to naked maidens cuddling calabash;
Filled with soft breadfruits
Strolling on marble tarmac roads,
But to virgins with unripe chest mangoes;
Dancing and queuing at my hut stepping,
Listen to mothers mingling backed urchins
Hoping in hope load of sacks;
In uncountable mileage
To dispose and bring back joy of cowries;
Labouring farmer hue mounds in hectares,
Rose in a grunt
Nostalgically, looked hazily back and future;
I must do a little bit more, more and more,
Mounds, until I reach tip end of the earth;
The hunegred yawns must be fill.
Categories:
nostalgically, history
Form:
Free verse
Dances with eagles in skinny oxygen
Silence is regal, time is an abstract
I humbly look up, at your majestic existence
So still, so cold, so proud, but so much like me…
So timid in the slap of the Northern winds
So in love with love
So much shaken by earthquakes of Human Nature grinning in colliding
plateaus with deep faults.
In the blind of darkness I only have your secret, inner warmth
Lava of our Souls perforates geological barriers,
Layer after layer of memories of past lives…remember?
Our underwater games, the Raising above our Black Sea level
The playful puffs of steaming magma cooling off dreams into Reality…
I see dances of eagles shooed by a deafening propeller
I float in a basket above you: I AM THE QUEEN OF THE WORLD !!!
…and I can fly in the eternity and beyond!!!
You remain smiling coldly , nostalgically still, endlessly Majestic
As I become smaller, and smaller, and smaller
In a minuscule Black Hole where mountains become Gods
As I turn into a still, cold, and proud abstract
in the Rotunda of my childhood Gardens back home…
for John's Contest
Categories:
nostalgically, introspection, life
Form:
Free verse
Space ... the final frontier ...
We all have heard that, but the frontier may be not even There ...
...
The waters on a lake are smooth
When noisy day is out.
When nature's vanity away
Is gone with wind around.
.
When all the lights are turning off.
Sweet silence coming down soft
And calmly whispers that a star
Just dived in lake to light from far.
.
And Universe for just a moment
Reflects in lake, so deep and whole.
Eternity, untill first ripples,
Comes so close to your soul.
.
Full chest of breath seems not enough.
And heart at awe will skip a beat.
Nostalgically, voice from far
Will magically call to stars.
.
Forgetting we will try to touch
And try to hug that silent depth.
But all the dreams will fly in splash
And wise reality hits us.
.
The wisdom often is so harsh,
But always gives us lessons:
Before we conquer space,
We better heal This place.
Categories:
nostalgically, beautiful, nature, peace, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
i want to freeze this moment
to paste all this feelings
into one moment in time
these smells
theses thoughts
these sounds around me
the tuk tuk i am in reaches town
and from the mosque nearby
the mwadhini calls out loud
"Allah Akbar"
the faithfuls;
men in stark white robes
and women in shimmering black buibuis
hurry on
to the dome roofed mosque
for their evening swala
the tuk tuk
comes to a halt
infront of the booking office
of the bus i shall travel with
there are many other travelers
like i
i alight the tuk tuk
pay the driver
and tell him asante
after he carries my suitcases
to the place i shall sit
to wait for the bus
he drives off
rickety and noisy
like all tuk tuks are
and i think nostalgically
that that's the last tuk tuk ride
i shall have
in a long long time to come
i doubt if they have them in Nairobi
at least not as many as here, in Kilifi
neither is the air as warm as this one
i know Nairobi will be cold
and i know i shall miss this humid air
so warm
like a lover's breath on the neck
and so teasing with scents of this and that
all of them elusive
one time there is a tinge
of the murky salty sea scent
the next
there hangs in the air
a sweet scent of feminine Arabic perfume
and then later
that of frying garlic;
somebody's cooking pilau somewhere
i feel hungry already
i shall have to buy some fries
to eat on the way
matatus pass by me
the conductors asking me if i would like to get on
i smile and shake my head
i have somewhere else to go
they speed past me
sighing, i look above
the street lights glow lemon yellow
they light the town
in a golden hue
and up above still
God's light bulbs
light up the clear coastal sky
in tiny fluorescent spots
like diamonds on a black dinner dress
and i wonder
is it possible
to touch them stars up there?
they look so far up high!
a bright one stands out
like Venus at twilight
it winks down at me
and makes me smile
they may be far
but one journey then the next
may take us closer
and closer to them
i have my own stars to touch
and my journey tonight
is another one
to take me closer to them
who knows if humans can ever touch stars?
only time will tell
i guess
*asante- swahili word for "thank you"
*mwadhini- the person who calls to Muslims at certain intervals to go to pray at the mosque
*swala- prayer
Categories:
nostalgically, education, hope, life, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
The days when I played in them
Not listening to any words from mom.
Cherishing each drop falling on me
Feeling as though a sparrow is free
Sloshing, sploshing, and splashing
Amidst lightning flashing
Puzzling over the bubbles
Formed over the puddles
The tentative rainbows on them
Shining like the Kohinoor gem
Counting them as though stars
Or scattered pearls of Mars
Trying to collect them gladly
Seeing them break, sadly
Going on, thus, till the drops
Each last one, finally stops.
I nostalgically think of those days.
My heart beams with romantic rays.
Will they come back anymore?
This question quakes my heart's core...
Categories:
nostalgically, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Jinu Turned Six
The house was decorated with balloons and buntings
Family cheered as Jinu turned six in the leap year gone by
Multiply it by four, but my Jinu remained glued to six
She lives away but her heart is here
I baked two cotton cheese cakes atop with apricot icing
For my friends at work and family at home
Placed it before her photograph and all blew out the candles
Little mementos for the children of friends
For Jinu was once a sweet buttercup like them
We remembered her growing up years and
Nostalgically went through the leaves of the album
Encrypted with her hairdo's and style trends
There were her happy smiling faces since she was a babe
Prancing around table tops and trees with Lucy her pet to
Her unforgettable winter marriage celebrations
On a thick foggy night where some got lost enroute
Yet danced the night through to the rhythm of music
Memories of children churn up on birthday celebrations
By parents whose children remain in far away homes
Touché! Her seventh birthday is around the corner
Jinu turns seven and her baby will turn three!
January 28, 2016
Contest: Birthday Party
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
nostalgically, absence, birthday, celebration, childhood,
Form:
Free verse