Best Postcards Poems
I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway places,
not many but over time
they accumulate
on walls, fridges
and marking pages in books.
Mostly from old girlfriends
writing to prove
they are still alive.
"Amazing scenery, wonderful people,
haven't had a decent cup of coffee since Montreal,
watch out for the water in ice cubes.
Wish you were here (Not!)
all my love xxxx"
Still on a dull grey morning,
a message from Mexico, Italy,
Vietnam or New Zealand
is at least intriguing.
Me, I never send postcards
as I never go anywhere
but I get pretty picture postcards
from faraway long ago bitches
every now and then.
Categories:
postcards, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Pictures and postcards
crumpled up letters
memories of moments
captured in a nighttime dream
Picnics and flowers
warm summer breezes
whispers and kisses
captured in a daytime dream
Feelings are flowing, circling and dipping
creating allusions - causing confusion
life pushes on - pressing and pulling
leaving a memory etched in a restless mind
I wait - alone - one with the morning dew
scared - lost - in moments without you
no going back, no turning back
scared of a future with no you
Pictures and postcards
crumpled up letters
memories of moments
captured in a nighttime dream
Feelings are flowing, circling and dipping
creating allusions - causing confusion
life pushes on - pressing and pulling
leaving her memory etched in a unclear mind
Muddling through motions
moonbeams and raindrops
sunshine and silence
Life goes on, or so it seems
Categories:
postcards, farewell, feelings, memory,
Form:
Lyric
Let me see…
Give this one a Gothic Border,
For my mood is one
Of secret gardens,
Gargoyles-
All internal wanderings…
And this one,
Of an island
Somewhere,
A place only
Tropics know-
The sea
Its endless border,
The sky
A far away glow-
A sleepy little lagoon-
Here fairies
Flit, flutter to tell
Flickering tales
Us dream thieves
Dream to sell…
And now
Above a mountain-
Clouds lightly darkly speak,
Of misty rings
Cumulus things
Where summit and base meet-
Talk of a missing middle,
The answer a
2 syllable word:
Always in a climbing riddle
No middle would be absurd.
Categories:
postcards, allegory, fairy, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
Nothing do I have of him except some post cards
and the one picture of himself he sent me once he’d gone away.
No piece of clothing do I have to press against my face
and breathe in the wonder of his essence.
Stored in an old worn treasure chest are the picture and the postcards.
Rarely do I take them out; I do not need to
because his beautiful face is imprinted forever in my mind.
I knew him but one week of my young life.
Old Buick Rivieras remind me of
our final night of glorious romance.
Is he still out there somewhere in this world
remembering me as I remember him?
This I cannot know, but I imagine it is so.
The picture and the postcards – tucked away -
are the tangible pieces of evidence that he existed in my life.
But the image of his dark, tender eyes fixated on me,
and the memory of his smooth kisses and sweet caresses
one magical September eve
are my favorite mementos
of the boy from Quebec.
March 13, 2021
For Malabika Ray Choudhury's "I Remember" Poetry Contest
Now for John Hamilton's Your Best Free Verse So Far This Year Poetry Contest
Categories:
postcards, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
~*~*~*~*~
A little girl with dark brown braids.
White blouse, gold-colored wool skirt
and patent leather Mary Janes.
An only child with a wired haired fox
terrier that lived with Grandpa,
Mother and Father.
Her Mother, sweet, who saw to it
that she had ballet lessons, went
to a private school and Mother read
her poetry for hours.
A book collection she did have and
loved to read even before she really
could.
Playing with friends, riding her bike,
loved sparklers on warm, July Fourth
nights.
Saw men proud to wear a uniform,
who never came back from the war.
She did not understand when someone
stole her Teddy Bear during one of
many blackouts during the war.
Whoever would do such a thing?
No TV, no technology, just cut-outs,
crayons and she was taught to salute
the flag, because she lived in the land
of the free.
Children were safe, could go on the
train downtown.
But she cherished it the most when
hiding like a cub, under her Mother's
warm coat. The snow sticking to train
windows, peeking in.
Swimming at small lakes in summer how
she loved that the most. So suntanned,
she, the color of warm toast.
The girl knew song lyrics, she never forgot.
They live in her mind and heart and cannot
be turned off.
Years passed, the autumns and summers.
Family now almost all gone, yet somehow,
she remains young.
Always desirous of being herself, you won't
find the braided girl wanting to belong to
any crowd.
The music, the dance, her life, somehow
made her become a poetess.
Surely, not the best!
Being genuine is the gold standard for
all she writes. It must past this test!
She does not write to impress with great
finesse. Just to keep it simple as can be.
Thus~you will experience her poetry!
September 12, 2020
8pm PST
Categories:
postcards, america, childhood, confidence, family,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve been sleeping for a long time
Drifting in and out of “reality”
They say the dreams of men are only passengers
That has but one final destination
I can’t get off this train
I never bought a ticket
It was always here
In the back of my mind
In front of me
Carrying me towards destiny
I look out the window
The glass reflects only me
There is no scenic tour
I only know that I feel bad
Like I got the blues in green
Sad but forgotten
I ride this train
To the end of the tracks
Where the blues end
And the dying begins
Till then
There are only postcards
My friend
Categories:
postcards, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
The end dear friend is just the entry and he pointed, but he never meant me, it was the old man sat inside me that the message was intended for.
I sat and wondered about the door and what was it the entry for and could it be he meant me after all?
Then the timepiece changed into a watchtower and it changed back on the hour, every hour
what tricks these eyes can play
what puzzles and to blind.
In the end I wouldn't mind a new beginning
somewhere with a decent climate
and
slightly South of the equator
where I could do a baked
potato
on the rocks.
but don't worry
they'll twin you with a town up
in the Pyrenees
which
you'll find out
will be full up with
the Chinese who'll
be
making origami
chewing gum from
Sorghum and
reciting verses from a book
by ...tse Tung
The end is just a fixture
another game we play
away.
Categories:
postcards, best friend, betrayal, books,
Form:
Rhyme
You were gone, though you had never left
on a long vacation, from yourself
they'd arrive in batches, every day
no return address, no greeting
Questions, feelings, hope was fleeting
then missing died, one lonely day
as did the heart that still lay beating
in the empty room next door
No warm goodbyes, or teary eyes
no last dance to an old, sad song
just picture postcards, curled and fading
fading, like our memories
Categories:
postcards, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
My parents send me postcards
As they jet set around the world
So that I have a little piece of them
I save the cards like I would exotic pearls
I'd like to tell them that I'm okay
Although both of them I miss
I often think of writing back
But have no forwarding address
I have cards from Paris, France
Amsterdam and on the Rhine
China along with Africa
I'm happy to see they're doing fine
I keep an atlas by my bed
So I can see where they are at any given time
I only wish my mom was here
To hold me as I cry
I travel to my mailbox
Lonely along the way
Looking for that postcard
To see where my parents are today
Categories:
postcards, life, lonely,
Form:
Rhyme
My love left me a letter,
"Dear one, I hate to make you frown,
But there seems to be a part
That's missing from my heart.
I need to find it
Before I can settle down."
Then she sent me a postcard,
It read, "Caro, ciao from Rome."
She loved the music, food, and wine,
And the Vatican was fine,
And she didn't know
When she'd be coming home.
She caught a cold in London,
Thought she'd glimpsed the King at tea.
The Thames was far less than sublime,
But Big Ben keeps perfect time,
And the galleries
Reminded her of me.
She got a tan in Rio,
The beach there is divine.
Confessed she'd had a little fling,
And leaned a most peculiar thing,
That Brazilian kisses
Don't compare to mine.
Then in a card one morning,
"Dear one, I'm coming home.
The world's too big and much too wide
Without you by my side,
And I've realized
I didn't need to roam."
Now my love's done with traveling,
And she knows in her heart and mind
That the thing she went to find
Was the love she left behind
And wasn't missing,
It was right here all the time.
Author's note: To paraphrase Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz", sometimes if you go looking for your heart's desire, you don't have to look further than your own backyard.
Categories:
postcards, journey, true love,
Form:
Rhyme
These postcards spell the moments of my life
Each memory jotted down in black and white
In New York's where I first kissed you
In London is where I missed you
(Pre-Chorus)
I know you wanted to see how my story ends
But I promise you that we'll still be friends
If never our roads go and meet again
Just promise me...
Chorus:
You won't live your life in revenge
That's always been the downfall of tyrants and kings.
Don't hide your heart away,
Or turn your back in shame.
These postcards tell our history,
It all goes back to you and me.
And I wouldn't change them even if I could.
Verse 2:
In Rhode Island is where you loved me
In Spain is where I left you.
In Paris beneath the city lights is where
We had our hearts broken in two.
It doesn't matter cuz its all us
The good the bad the ugly stuff
I wouldn't change these scars for anybody
Else's.
Pre-Chorus
Chorus
This postcards tell the meaning of our story.
And that story ain't complete without you and me.
These wounds will heal I'll get up again the road goes on and on my friend
Please don't let these memories slip away.
Categories:
postcards, emotions, first love, forgiveness,
Form:
Lyric
When I have visited a place
I can go home and see its face.
Every detail, every line
reappears inside my mind.
The small to largest part
is engraved upon my heart.
Museum, farm or fair,
you can bet I am still there.
Caught up in this Déjà vu,
with feelings fresh as morning dew,
are picture postcards of the brain
that I’ll visit once again.
There’s no need to close my eyes.
They flash buy in vistas live…
the trees, the fields, the land
the lights, the town, the sand.
They are with me now and then
like a close and welcomed friend,
mind-scenes of travels far and near,
visions that now have come so clear.
As the passing years grow dowdy
may the spirits not grow cloudy
always bringing on a smile
recalling every golden mile.
4/21/2021
Categories:
postcards, memory, travel,
Form:
Quatrain
Life’s heading somewhere,
Still not sure where.
I’ll send you all postcards,
Once I get there.
With love, hope, and plenty of inspirations.
My dreams are yours,
So go ahead and take them.
Live them fully because I know I won’t.
There still on my to do list.
Next to loving life and joining fight,
Kisses, hugs or forgotten loves.
They’re flying by,
I’m still trying to catch them in jars, like fireflies.
To light up my room at night,
With a warm glowing yellow light.
My lovely dreams keep me going.
So wait for my new postcard, love.
I’ll be there soon.
Categories:
postcards, life
Form:
How cool to get a postcard!
For someone took the time
To buy one, write it, stamp it
And then send it. Sometimes I’m
Away and make the effort,
But often I do not.
It’s easy to tell everyone
That somehow you forgot.
With FaceTime, Skype and Twitter,
The postcard seems so quaint.
The person who would bother, though,
Will not get one complaint.
The fact that someone thought of you
While off on a vacation
And put it into writing is
Beyond all expectation.
Categories:
postcards, travel, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Another day here at BMCC
Jazz magazine at the ready
Yes and students
walking around
Some say Buenos Tardes
Some say drop dead
You can't please everyone
But as the song says
"You've got to please yourself"
so here is the poem
on the Poetry Soup
website
Categories:
postcards, school
Form: