Best Reminiscence Poems
Written: October 31, 2023
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Wobbly words wrapped in weal walnut-white wood
Silk snare souvenirs and sturdy struck stinks.
Your whisper dragged me in and there withstood
Wobbly words wrapped in weal walnut-white wood
I climbed to be proud, not hide in a hood.
Bond with breezy star began with five blinks.
Wobbly words wrapped in weal walnut-white wood
Silk snare souvenirs and sturdy struck stinks.
Reminiscence of My Childhood
By Franklin Price
12/1/2016
Reminiscence of my childhood
Looking back on younger days
When life was not so hectic
Mass media not the craze
No such things as cell phones
We had a party line
Speaking to an operator
To call a friend was fine
To look up information
An encyclopedia of course
And other books of reference
Library was the source
Checked out books of interest
Could not down-load on the phone
Novels read from page to page
The turning put me in the zone
Check out time was just two weeks
Returning late there was a fine
An exorbitant two cents a day
A large amount if it was mine
Computers filled more than a room
At least that's what I heard
Apple was a fruit to eat
Micro-soft was not a word
Of course there was no texting
Conversations face to face
Meeting at the local drive-in
For a burger was the place
Reminiscence is so wonderful
It always makes me smile
I'll post this poem on Face-book
In just a little while
Basking in moonlight,
Old birds remember the nest.
Ruffles my feathers.
Headstones
Matter
© Harry J Horsman 2010
Prologue:
For whoever think story telling is that easy,
Would properly from this hilarious incident,
scene or whatever you might call it, would know is not.
*****************
Just some couple of months ago, I was invited
by a friend who knows me too well, back then in
school as a funny guy and story teller and so he taught this
night, that his grand pa (who is a famous story teller
of his village) had fall sick, I would be in a better position
to cover up for his father's so called responsibility
to his people. "For he (my friend's father, Williams) is a good story teller.
But what about me who has never faced
the ample crowd with my 'cripple' tale unless sharing it with friends?" I mumbled.
In the middle of this enigma, my friend, John called me to the hot seat
to tell my tale to the unbearable crowd of adolescence.
"God why am I here this day... But it shouldn't have been this day" I retorted.
The barbarian noise from the seats infront of me showed that truly I was
in the middle of something and not lost...
"Uncle tell us a story!... Brother tell us a story!" the crowd shouted.
This day, I needed a free moment but they couldn't let me be.
"Once upon a time" they heard me said and they all resited.
" I am sorry, I am sorry let me restart it all over again".
Now in old man's voice, I told my tale before them:
"Once upon a time,
In our mothers' womb, when she
Ate, we ate. Goodnight!"
They all cannot but burst to laughter while I stood and walked to the room with my
shame.
*****************
Anything after good night means nothing more till the next day.
Maybe I escaped the night by dissatisfying the emotions of those children,
in that scene, what about my friend?
"Have I not brought shame to John's family? Did I do the
right thing that full moon night?". My heart beats!
*****************
Epilogue:
Not even do the audience remember or care to ask me: (In kid's voice)
"What if my mother do not eat while in my pregnancy, what will happen to her?" or
probably care to tell me: (Back to old man's voice) "What lesson they have derived from
the tale before their departure... Oh! No sorry, my bashful departure from their sight."
Note: The tale: "Once upon....Goodnight!" is a Haiku form of poetry.
dancing cranes in
Sun
cherry-trees in
blossom-skies
ocean waves-
miracle.
Reminiscence
We promised to be together for whole life
Days should be dazzling on your glow
Nights could sparkle as love would flow.
We could be ideal husband and wife,
But destiny divided us with cruel knife.
I thought tears would run ceaseless
I could never forget my sweet heart.
I was shattered as we got apart.
Time passed, memory faded merciless.
I forgot my peerless princess.
On journey of life we again chanced to meet
Destiny brought us face to face
She appeared with wonderful grace.
Oblivion released hidden tears to greet
my beloved,alive in my heart beat.
12/18/15
Any poem contest Eighth place
Sponsor Broken Wings
winter park old man
was feeding pigeons, my little
girl wanted a bite, too
Reminiscence of good times
Memories of love and charm
Intoxicated with your love
Ecstatic afternoons spent
Lost in your scenic shores
Bathing under your caresses
Enchanted memories aroused
Beautiful meadows envisioned
Reminiscence of good times
Memories of lovely days
Summer of our sweet love
Delights before unknown
frolicking with waves on a tranquil seashore…
saffron-hued sapphire waves rolling away,
a mesmerized child, carried the memory…
reminiscence of a blissful awe-inspiring cadence.
a buddhist temple on the sublime shore,
melodic symphonic chimes soaring from above,
serenaded me to my forest of dreams,
where gentle humming of a chartreuse waterfall ignited
creative inspiration.
to this day, I often stop, close my eyes, drown myself
in a reverie inspiring my imagination lavender ...
I, a traveller from the ancient world of history walking through ages,
crossing rivers and seas, hills and dales of the universe,
in search for love, kindness and inner peace.
August 22, 2021
"Seas Or Oceans" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
FIRST PLACE
Brian Strand "Vers Libre" Poetry Contest
Whether it be pernicious hailstorms,
Or be shiveringly cold snow.
It shall be in all forms,
And it comes by and goes in a blow.
Surprisingly it can be an exuberant reminiscence
Perhaps a past full of dolorous tear.
One can only see it in essence,
For it is neither far nor near.
Oh, The wonders it brings!
Deftly leaves on in disarray.
When it comes, it subtly clings,
Be it the month of june or the month of may.
May it very well be a place of fantasy,
Even a song so beautifully composed.
People erratically collate it with ecstasy,
By the virtue of emotions it grows.
Though the memories might not be real,
Mesmerizingly it blooms in me and you.
Sometimes it truly can be cordial,
And is delineated by very few.
Well, 'Tis merely a feeling,
So distantly called nostalgia.
As it may be endearing,
Precisely known as anemoia.
Refraction's slanted sunrise colors your
Eyes, as you fashion and refine the
Mosaic mirrors of your mind
Iridescent icicles of Christmas sleigh rides
Nights by the hearth, wrapped in each other's warmth
Intimate fragrant hush tracing
Springtime's delicate blush
Cloud softened cardigans
Embroided with memories of water lilies
Nostalgia's lakes of slowing ebbing aches
Cushioning the sharp
Empty corners of your heart.
12/03/20
A light day…
My granny was a little
woman.
She loved to speak in other
languages:
Italian, French and
German.
And in the Grannies language for their grandchildren:
“my pretty”.
She didn’t get pension (that was
the time) and
our home was thronged with pupils. Surely because of this I learnt
neither one. Or with the guests who
dropped in
often (we lived in the downtown by the tail
of the horse* - they used
to say so), for having a cup of black coffee.
The coffee
was special – for fortune-telling. She
“was telling fortune” and they
were telling us. A lot of stories. Surely
because of this I
know neither one.
Then she started getting less and less and
slender.
One night my mother told me,
“Go to see her…”
A thin, transparent leaf.
Now surely she’s telling the fortune and
is speaking only in the Grannies language
for their grandchildren:
“my pretty”.
...................................................
*”the tail of the horse” is slang for the Historical Monument Tsar Osvoboditel (tsar liberator) that indicates the downtown of Sofia; more on the monument can be read here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Monument-Tsar-Osvoboditel-1912.jpg
Way back then when I was ten
Naïve and still quite humble
Worldly wise but not yet grown
Each day would amuse again.
Games were skills of time to hone
On occasion there were tumbles
But magic still pursued my roam
And life’s truths were left for olden men.
Homemade kites to fly the breeze
In every mist, adventure, in which to join.
All around stood natural trials
Feats spawned by climbing trees.
Tiny creeks became the Nile
Castle walls were dreamed from groynes.
New quests to take with every mile
A thousand leaves the sound of ease.
Rod and line with shiny lure
Peace, beside a tuneful stream.
Hypnotic pools with mystic shadows
While fish my mission to procure.
Tranquil glades in which to doze
Harmony designed from simple dreams.
Unbridled futures were composed
Happiness my sole duty to ensure.
Yes was luck, but nature formed playpen
Confidence formed in solitude
Thoughts formed best when left unsaid.
Now, with age and years, I yearn, for this again.
I pray to move and leave these days of dread.
So youthful hope, might be renewed
Walking backwards steps, to move ahead.
To way back then; when I was ten.
I was told you are the one
From my mind chaos were born
It couldn't be" I thought
But I was told by the three in one
That you are my the one
That was two years back
I sit here today,
Now that I had to believe in my heart
That you and I to be one
My soul feels like it’s in the mud
Having to let go the one I never had
The one I shall never have
In prayer I find it hard
To ask, knock and seek
Persistently like in Matthew
When my heart is in ache
And fragile like a golden egg
How mysterious can this be?
The one I shall never have
I shall not be in beef
It was content hoping you were the one
The one I waited for
Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bones...
I was hoping to be your Proverbs 31