Best Remember Poems


Premium Member This Spring the Poppies Bloomed

A field afire
papery petals glow like ruby votive candles
a collection of cupped solar flames
vowed to shine despite the dew before dawn
evaporating any doubt the sun would rise
the mist would lift 
consoling one in darkness

Rising up where wildflowers past have fallen
victim to soil fallow and shallow
your Spring growth resurrects my hope
as your resurgent blooms stretch to the heavens
I awaken thawed from the frost of loss  
regenerated by dreams 
of undying love  sacrifice  and  joy

O poppy blood red
vast your bed a symbol of life and death  
and imagination..  you inspire me with your irony
your roots belie a feathery foliage
anchored though airy
light and looking like you might take flight 
but spirited blossoms stand an army of angels
earthbound and blushing

My breath stops when I gaze upon you — yet
when I walk among your thronging whorls
grazed by your grace
my chest rises and falls 
my bloodstream set ablaze 
by the grandeur of your inner light
my heart rejoices with the voices of breezes 
aswirl with a swish through your scarlet banners of peace

We share a savor for new-day chardonnay skies
tender the warm tinge before summer’s singe 
rhythmic air moves us with singsong sighs
a swaying dance of sepaled celebrants
with nary a fresh bud trod upon
crimson and sunrise   spirit and flesh  
raising palms and psalms in thanks and praise
festive in rebirth and remembrance 
where tears fall not as rain but as  
           c o n f e t t i
as my heart carries the bouquet of your immortal beauty 
like a bride on her May wedding day


Susan Ashley 
March 11, 2022


*Dedicated to my father who gently passed on June 10, 2021.
You are loved and missed dearly, dad 


~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Spring Showers or Spring Flowers
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh


*nary: not, or not any


(Image: Glow with pride: Express.co.uk)

Premium Member The Things I Cherish

The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish

Do I write a missive
Explaining the why?
Would this help save things
After I die?

This brown dead rose,
A gift from your dad,
Brings back the best night
I ever had.

This bead of pink
Once on a baby’s wrist
Only memory left
Barely a wisp

The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish


Chosen Poem of the Day by PoetrySoup on 10-11-2018

Premium Member Reflections 1393

.                    So 
                  appear 
             the visions, 
                       kind
                     of my
                 scenes 
             Unwind. 
               With              such  joyful
           thoughts    of all those yesterdays. 
           The times we both spent together. 
            Reflections of fun in any weather. 
             The days when you were mine.
                 Yes reflections are so fine. 
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
                   Yes reflections are so fine.                      
              The days when you were mine.
             Reflections of fun in any weather. 
            The times we both spent together.
             Thoughts    of all those yesterdays,
               With                such  joyful
             unwind.
                Scenes
                  of my
                    kind.                
              The visions
                   appear
                      So


Remember Me

Remember me...

A  fresh sweet scent

of  last gardenia

on yesterday's linen sheets

Remember me...

A cherry bud

in your backyard orchard

revealing  first pink shades

in once upon a soft blown kiss

Remember me...

An early summer

sharing your beach towel

and coconut butter

Remember me...

A roaring log fire

on a stormy night

in the hallway 

to your bedroom door

Remember me...

a short~lived star

that fallen into your arms

then faded to nothingness

upon the empty shore. 

Remember me ...

The blissful moment

The saddest song

in your forevermore

Premium Member Do You Remember

Somewhere in a dream, 
Serene and blissful from the start
It comes to me again
The two of us in love, and eagerly alone
Breathlessly naive', and blissfully assured
that we would be as one
...that nothing in the world outside,  could ever be compared

Two bikes took rest against a tree
We climbed the nearest hill, 
Through foxtails, deep and thickets, high
Along a creek bed, far and wide,
wading through warm granite stones
Slick and wet, with velvet moss
littered deep with autumn leaves, and the urgent tender years

My darling...do you remember...?
We were like children, we marveled and swooned
at the shapes of the clouds in the lavender sky
changing their forms in a wink of the eye
We were wild with love, that stirred the stones
Discovering firsts, and thirsts unknown

Layers of years, now whisper here, 
Imprisoned in this hidden place, with every breath of air

Not a fluent time that bends or moves
...but time fully reasoned, with ancient eyes
Unwound of it's youthful eyes and loves
Where dulcet words plucked out of space
Have not been tinged by autumn's breath
And innocence is scattered like leaves upon the breeze
And lingers, ...with a sweet wistful sigh

We who once made love, ...a thousand skies ago
Have slept with tossing shadows and lilting cries
Still tremble with the memory

Oh, ...I know the subtle ways of empty dreams
And I shall go by silent lanes and leave this day....and you....
                                                                                     ....timeless here



.     .     .     .     .    .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .

Premium Member sleepwalking -

I long to fold my eyes and softly creep

                    beside the brook of fancy, as it flows

          to tumble off my trundle bed and sleep

                              and dip the stardust with my drowsy toes



within the world of reverie and dreams

                    I cast my cares, like nets, upon the sea

          so woven as the moon, within its beams

                              imagination's breadth, now comes to be



with all the dreamy pathways that I stroll

                    the routes are always varied, always new

          and still, each destination brings its toll

                              as all my sojourns find their way ... to you



but I would ne'er deny my heart that ache ...

                    if only you'd come with me ... when I wake.






~ 2nd Place ~  in the "Most Comments Received Poem 2018" Poetry Contest, July Morning, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 1st Place ~  in the "Sleepwalking" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor & Judge.

~ 5th Place ~  in the "Contest Number 470 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor & Judge.


Premium Member I Remember Years Ago Potd

I remember, oh how I remember
the years that have gone by.
Our doors were never bolted
our windows never closed.

Women had part-time jobs
knocking on doors all afternoon,
their comely voices bidding:
Madam 'tis Avon calling for you.

Meantime grandma would sit
outside the house and gossip
with friends who passed her by,
whilst we would wander all alone
in fun parks or green meadows,
flying our gaudy coloured kites,
and gathering cowslips for our dear mum.

My Little Soldier Boy

Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.

You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.

You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said, 
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!

Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.


Author Note:  This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983.  I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children, 
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually 
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life  on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters") 

I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but 
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not 
MY Son!"  Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school.  And I'm still writing my poems today.

Premium Member I'll Always Remember

I will always remember the moment we met.
(Haunting woodlands in springtime, your slim silhouette)
The glint in your eyes sparked a tempest at dawn
overwhelming the dreams of a slumbering fawn.

I will always remember your singular smile
(Fusing fantasies, fancies and phantoms the while) 
when I brought you a daisy, then fled from the room,
weaving dizzy designs on a mystical loom.

I will always remember first touching your hand.
(Like the wing of a sparrow, frail fingers were fanned)
With my heartbeat aflutter, I jittered with joy - 
on the surface, a man, though inside still a boy.

I will always remember the sound of your laugh
(Merry mermaid amused in a summer sea bath)
as we strayed 'long the strand, for a moment, alone,
with your tresses a’ tousle and tumbled and blown.

I will always remember your breath on my skin
(Seeking castles in chaos, a spirit in spin)
as you drew me aside and our tongues first entwined -
tangled twists of amour had begun to unwind.

I will always remember the fires of love.
(Shades of autumn ablaze in the tree leaves above)
Crazy passions ignited whenever we lay 
painting stars in the night with the dazzle of day. 

I will always remember the nightingale's tune.
(Divinations awash neath a ruddy blood moon)
When we kissed to its cadency, laughed as we danced,
lurking lanterns in limbo forged shadows enhanced.

I will always remember the shattering knell -
(Wanton words tolled in winter...  ‘Adieu, dear... farewell’)
just a note near a nook where so often we slept
which I read and reread and reread while I wept.

Premium Member Avi, Oh Avi

Oh Avi, Avi
  Sometimes, with my eyes closed
    I see you dance
      A dervish, whirling, like me
        And I wished
          Oh how I wished you would
            pirouette into my arms
              You would hold me
                How I would hold you

                  But my arms and yours
                caught girls, alluring and delicate
              Oh Avi, Avi
            When you laughed
                                          My stomach turned
                             And multi-coloured butterflies
             And small flying kites
danced into the air

     Occasionally you glanced at me
       the way I did at you
       I think you did
Oh Avi, Avi
        We were so young
                Just boys, small boys
Thinking about you still
  makes my day smile

             I wheel my chair
        With light rhythmic movements
   Dreaming about a time
  Where I still had dreams
     And you were in them
          With our tights and muscular
               Frames and our *****
             Avi, oh Avi.

***

March 7, 2017
© Darren White

Premium Member Seashells

The sun washed sands along the beach
hid ocean gifts in drifting swells
and tides would wash within my reach
a bounty of abandoned shells.

I'd walked those shores in search of all
the endless wonders I would find,
collecting trinkets, I recall,
held by the shifting sands of time.

My endless search unveiled the realm
of nautilus and scallop shells
and sand pails soon were overwhelmed
with countless finds and fishy tales.

Time moved on and I’ve since found
that search continues in my mind
and still those eager thoughts abound
with all the treasures I could find.

Those youthful days on sandy shores
seemed endless in the summer haze
and in my mind I still explore
those seashell thoughts of younger days.

Remember To Mind Your Reason

In the darkest of times 
be the light of a candle 
but the harshest of crimes 
to let melt your candle 

***
Give, unmindful of a reason 
feel the heavy burden light
remember to mind your reason 
fill your very soul with Light 

***
Like a delicate dove
bathe into sweet waters well 
feed on the seeds of Love 
reach not the bottom of its well.

Premium Member Wild Asters

I gather twilight shades and arrange them in a vase

   wild hues of lips just kissed 
      and princely pomp captured in cut-glass
         embraced and tamed -- though
            their petals flame in reflective facets

         tinseled hearts filled with a harvest of falling stars 
      inspires desires of satisfaction
   as thrill of nightfall’s gold lingers like cosmic light

in the stardust of afterthought


Susan Ashley
April 26, 2020


~ First Place ~
Contest: Completely Your Choice (23)
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Premium Member Invisible: Co-Written With C Devonshire

clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
   he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
       he is a man with no money, no property
          a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
 
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
   he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
      he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
        like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
 
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
    he is invisible to the revellers
       he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
         echoing through his mind in restless nights
           the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
 
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
    who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride 
       he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price 
         through severe disabilities and permanent scars
 
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
    he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
        he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
           a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
   
unemployed, homeless, unseen
    but most of all forgotten
       he is a man who seems invisible
          but he is still a man


-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.

[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]

The 50's

There was a time when I was young
To share an era that begun
From music to the fashion trend
TV shows and history
Fads and other mysteries
I saw them all as time moved on

From classic pop to rock and roll
Bill Haley and the Elvis craze
And four years in my Air Force phase
But Jitterbug still hung around
The big bands had that unique sound
Time moved on to start the clock

European cinema
Fellini, Bergman made the mien
And Japan added to the pie
To film The Seven Samurai
Brando, Newman and James Dean
newly captured on the screen

Television's Golden Age
All the programs set the stage
For Gunsmoke and the Twilight Zone
I love Lucy, I married Joan
TV tubes were changed a lot
Wrestling shows were really hot

Mantle, Mays and Robinson
Took baseball to another rung
The coonskin cap and hula hoop
Duck tail hair and snapper soup
I wore one with a thick pomade
And ate the soup that Momma made

My fashion sense left much to judge
As if I had good taste for fudge
Pegged pants with a six inch rise
Ladys skirts were different then
Lengths that came down to their shins
Three inch higher was a sin
Still dirty minds existed then

In Belgium back in 58
I saw an exhibit on that date
The Sputnik with a cute stray dog
was launched so high up in the air
Before the U.S. could get there 
Then the race to conquer space

McCarthy hearings, lives destroyed
The Cold War was our only plight
The Commies kept their nukes in check
And Castro entered on the scene
There were no hot wars left to fight
Days still continued as well as night

I share a new millennium
But today the future's not so bright
No more long hand, the laptop's here
Facebook and Twitter have conquered our sphere
The death knell has tolled for how life was then
Rekindle your past and live again 




Ralph Sergi February 19, 2015 
Decades by Kelly Deschler

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