Best Voice From The Past Poems
Going Back Home
They say that you can never go home,
No matter how long you did roam.
There’s no way things will be the same,
Having been gone so long, you must take the blame.
The old statue of the Civil War is gone,
As you look down Main Street, it looks cold and alone.
The statue has been shifted and moved about,
It sits now on the school campus, off the main route.
Where are all the people I once knew?
Are they in another city alone and blue?
We must make an effort to come home once more,
To visit and be among the people we love and adore.
A few have been faithful to our home town,
They remained here long after the cap and gown.
Listen quietly, there’s a voice from the past,
Hauntingly asking, “Are you coming home at Last?”
The old town clock on Main Street still stands,
Watch closely, you can see the movement of its hands.
“Yes, you can come home,” the hands seem to be telling me,
Once you get home, your heart will be free.
© Lynn B. Glover
I waited for you with bated breath
In hopes that once again
We could share that oneness
we knew when we were friends.
But has time and distance erased
The closeness we once knew?
Because I feel so very alone,
Even though I am here with you.
You offer me love I cannot touch
As I sit drowning outside in the rain.
The simplest things matter so much
Can a voice from the past ease my pain?
Our wandering feet took separate paths
Straying far from the ones we once knew,
but I thought I might unlose myself
Once I found my way back to you.
But my journey was over even as it begun
And hot tears burn a trail down my face
Because some broken hearts can't be re-strung
And true friends are too hard to replace.
But what good is a heart that you cannot touch?
Or a hand that you reach for in vain?
Must I run from the place where I once sought my shelter
To stand shivering alone in the rain?
Sometimes old clocks can't be unwound
Are time and love ever truly free?
Each journey is long and painful
As I long for how things used to be.
A voice From the Past
My childhood friend rang me he hadn’t been ringing me for some time
he is the shy type and only ring when he has been drinking and judging
by his infrequency of calls he is rather abstinent. He spoke of the time
he time of our boyhood when found, in a warehouse, Nazi uniforms and
put them on marching around the streets shouting “Hail Hitler” But this
in 1947 a time when children were given some room. If a child behaved
something like that today, now that time is so very intolerant we would
grow up not getting a job because of our childhoods’ criminal past.
Referring to Nazism is a crime and it doesn’t matter how old you were at
the time. He wants to visit me and I have told him that’s ok, yet I hope he
will not come; our childhood was eons ago and I cannot by mere words
bring him the magic he wants to hear of our infancy that in the end was
rather banal and full of dreams of what to do when we’re adults.
the wharf was teeming
black and white,
the gulls were keening
in their flight
round and round
the fishing scow
the old man scowled
his heavy brow
forty years before the mast
and now today would be his last
the smell of fish,the salty air
was in his soul
and now despair
chilled his heart
like winter gales
he thought about
the moon on sails
the loved ones left upon
the shore
a hundred times or even more
he thought about his only son
who ran away when he was young
because he swore to never be
another sailor on the sea
the old man dropped the anchor then
and swabbed the decks and set his chin
he took his slicker and his hat
and walked the plank,
imagine that
but then a young voice from the past
hollered out,Ahoy,Avast!
there'll be no mutiny on my ship
I brought some ale
come have a sip
the old salt turned his weary head
oh son they told me you were dead
I'm not a ghost,it's really me,
let's get this bucket out to sea.
and 'round the world his spirit flew
and came back home to start anew.
Darkness closing in on me
Blacker than dusk I cannot see
As I make my way into unknown lands
I am being beckoned by unseen hands
My spirit drawn towards a glistening light
My fear is banished by this wondrous sight
Drifting further, what's happening I can't tell
Looking back I see my bloodstained shell
Oh the light keeps trying to reel me in
I must restrain myself or it will win
Trying to reclaim this body of mine
Reversing the flow of the sands of time
I hear a voice from the past
Telling me now I'm free at last
No! Mama, please, I don't wanna die
Please don't make me go into the light
Teardrops dripping down my chin
My resignation setting in
I can't resist the light again
Open your arms and guide me in
The blinding light is all I see
Familiar voices surrounding me
I am in the afterlife at last
Now I've disappeared into the past
in this day
in which it doesn't even seem
to have been life,
there was a moment,
a single moment,
in which I looked at the cloudy sky.
and at that moment,
in that single moment,
I thought I heard a cry,
or a choking scream.
it was a distant sound,
a voice from the past.
it was just a regret
that left me breathless,
and reminded me that my time was up.
so i closed my eyes
and tried to forget what I had heard.
all that was left was a strange feeling,
a feeling of emptiness,
as if life lost its meaning.
shattering my sleep
it was a voice from the past
I awoke quickly
The phone rings,
Another friend dead?
No, a voice from the past
Music to ears
Grown weary of naught but bad news
Maybe 2008 will be a better year
May it be so for all I know
And love.
Memories and images deep in my soul,
They dwell there silently, fond imagines that never grow old.
A little girl holding on to her father's hand,
How she longs to see his face and to be his little girl once again.
A young man who stood before our country and the world,
And promised the glow of that candle would light our way.
But sadly his dreams and our path was taken from us
That November day.
For a time the country staggered on,
The little girl grew up as sadly she watched her father
Pass on.
She found a young man who like her seemed seek the answers
To all the whys and where’s and the to follow.
Together they found happiness until the day he said he had to go
It was about that time a voice from the past seemed to wander in again
That warm smile and the clear memory of another young man
He brought back those hopes, dreams and memories
Only in the early morning hours once again they would be forced to leave like Another bad dream
Will these memories always be
Gentle on my mind or just the image of ghost riders in the sky
And when it’s time and I find myself knocking on heavens door
Will they all be there to greet me
And together we will be once again
You may yet hear my voice from the past,
echoing across the pines and hills,
there was a being as me once was,
love reminder, memory refills.
that voice perhaps is deep in your heart,
reverberating in some thought cells,
in daily deeds I had played a part,
has come now to ring a loving bell.
those days are gone, blank, a clean wipe out,
and never shall they ever return,
but from those past thoughts new hopes shall sprout,
fresh love to grow, better things to learn.
like me many lives have come and gone,
leaving good legacies to cherish,
like routine of sunrise, sunset, dawn,
another life, lived, loved, to perish.
Weep not when you hear my voice again,
from beyond the distant pines and hills,
for no life is lived or lost in vain,
please be kind to me, forgive my ills.
There's always been Ethel
isn't it time you tidied your room now
and Mr Thomas is he getting any better now
mowing his lawn
Sunday market, all sundry
roast pork and frilly laces
and I remember the voice from the past
Getting better in your verte garden
with red azaleas awash and pool full
a slithering grass snake
to awaken the soul
there's a pancrea for those in a rush
when the sun is alight
due lovers, gambling your fortune
its one big swoop
In a living voice from the past
messages are tall shadows.
Life goes on like before people
standing, sitting, chanting
walking and preparing for the prayer meets
beside an ancient river of faith.
Sages chant for peace, order
flowing in a vessel of light.
Home for all who have no
homes to go, no links to live.
only prayers exist for ages--
are a window, hope of the Beas flowing
carrying the heart of a nation
living and longing, faithfully
holding the world hard …
hand crafted culture
forged by hands, glass and metal
a voice from the past
we stand in silence
awe struck
amazed by color, form and shape
in any room
we are transformed
into a kaleidoscope of color
as sunlight breaks through
each glass piece
a masterpiece is formed
a medium of expression
telling a story
through great craftsmanship
of love and creativity
creating a work of art
every page I turn
tells a story of my life
a voice from the past
Since I gave you this heart of mine, its not the way it used to be.
The road I left behind and all those memories.
Like a voice from the past, when you called out my name
Life was moving way too fast, only memories remain.
Chorus
There's no turning back down that road that leads me back to you.
There was no place left to go, and nothing I could do.
And no matter how hard I try I just cannot let you go.
When you look into my eyes, we will be the last to know.
Now nothing that you say will make me change by mind.
There is no turning back down that road I left behind.
Holding on to those memories, Ive been crying all these tears
If only you would come back to me..I wish that you were here.
Letting go of yesterday--all these days have passed me by.
Some how we will find our way, but still I wonder why
We are holding on to what we have ..yet time keeps moving on
Letting go of the past, now yesterday is gone.
Repeat Chorus