Garland in 1960~
a town stitched together
with sunlight, screen doors,
and shopping in the ‘square’
The air smelt of freshly cut grass
and the faint sweetness of Dr Pepper
drifting from corner stores
where we kids pressed nickels into warm palms
and dreamt of comic-book adventures.
Main Street moved slow then~
shop windows filled with promise,
diners clinking with coffee spoons,
the art deco Plaza Theater on Main Street~
its clock stopped as if time had nowhere else to be.
Evenings arrived quietly,
twilight’s hush settling over the ‘square.’
Crickets played their tiny violins; and
porch lights flickered on
like small, faithful stars.
And in those wide Texas twilights,
the world felt safe enough
to wander barefoot,
to believe in tomorrow,
to carry home the quiet certainty
that life was good
and grace was near.
By Phan Tan Hai
The city streets rise in layered mazes—
once, you forgot the way home;
I sat a hundred years like a mountain,
watching the rain drag itself across the town.
Storms would not cease across the sky;
clouds returned, blurred with my longing for you;
sun and rain slipped into my sleep,
so that day grew as cold as night.
Leaves fell, carrying autumn into summer;
I pretended I had never known you,
to live again like in childhood days,
like the day we first met and asked each other’s names.
Your laughter felt strangely familiar—
an echo from a former life in my soul,
like the sound of a shattered mirror long ago,
white hair still dreaming it was green.
My steps moved on, still hesitant;
you pretended to call me by the wrong name;
sleep still carried its old fragrance,
and the moon’s blue glow lingered in my eyes.
Silent on the porch
Scorching sunlight fills the air
Smoke drifts into sky
don’t judge fallen fruit
by the color of its skin
rot begins inside
I visit my youthful stomping ground less and less each year. Somehow, the place seems damaged to me. Like a ripe apple that has fallen into the grass. It might be shiny and delicious looking on the top, but when you bend to pick it up, you can see it's mushy and bruised underneath.
The house I was born in,
used to stand right here.
I was just one more hungry child
destined to grow old and die.
Right here in this schoolyard,
I learned life’s valuable lessons.
The more you have,
the more you get,
the more you want.
Here’s the church,
that taught me,
no one cared,
about lost souls.
Only how much,
is in the collection,
plate.
This is the highway,
where I found out,
if I went too far.
I would never,
make it back.
No matter how hard I try
Welcoming streets full of wishful souls,
small town feel everywhere you look, whispering pines being gently in the wind, coffee shop full of heartfelt strangers looking for a friend.
This place I call home in my heart, my love of my life grew up here in this town of Wadena. Hardworking folks who look into each others souls for solace, a cup of coffee heartfelt laugh.
No cell phones, social media found here, reminders of the good ol days, kids playing laughing at simple joys in their hearts, no worries of impressing others, corporate clowns, no red carpet parties here..
My heart I leave here each time we part ways, Sunnybrook park my solitude, ducks, eagles, deer meets my eyes, fall foliage blankets the grounds, beauty all around…
My hometown is here, my family is here, place where my stressors melt away, I seek it in my heart whenever my heart is hurting, from being rejected by unhearted unkind souls,Wadena Mn is my home, I feel it and see it in my husbands eyes heart each and every day the past 30 wonderful years, God gave me him to bring a smile and a tear to my eyes, HE knew I needed Jesus in my life, My heart right beside me each and every moments my life.
To All The Girls in Reitz,
Your light makes black holes blink out of
existence and stars kneel in homage.
Sisters.I was born at Reitz.
I am a Free State boy me
I am the Rose of Reitz, the radiance
that rules,a rapturous revolution.
Billions of bright bodies bow before
my blossoming beauty.
A touch totally transforms time through
sheer tenderness.
I shimmer,shushing eternity,stunningly
strong,a supernova.
Flames falter,freeze, flee from my fierce fire.
The worlds wait,witnessing what wonders
will waltz from me next.
My Old Hometown
As the sands of time blow by
My hometown beach lost its treasure
The sea level rose four feet
Less shoreline
Less open expanse
Beachgoers today are over-crowded
I watch with teary eyes
connie pachecho
10/26/25
total syllables-45
quaint chats, district twangs,
greet my shell clad ear as I step,
on grey day mist platform,
childhood echoes rife,
sign rust, green flake post box, stuffed waste bin,
cute named antique street birthright,
one true home found
Bored with urban life,
Once I went to my hometown.
Nostalgic I have become
Recollecting the thrill
Of plucking guavas,
Of having silly fights with friends,
And adventures in fields.
Everything seems smaller
as I revisit old haunts.
Stores where I shopped and
the building where I was schooled
have vanished along with
youth’s dreams that stirred my passions.
I’m a stranger here now.
To sleep on gloss-green fields
To relish nature's yields
To feel the gentle breeze
To put my mind at ease
To bask in the bright sun
To savour seasonal fun
.......................................
................................
I'm nostalgic.
Sponsored: Nette Onclaud
Contest title: WANDERING WAYFARER.
Date of poem: 24-10-2025.
Nostalgia draws me back
to my old home town
and to the tree-lined park,
so full of memories.
The copper beech still stands
Where we carved our initials.
I wonder where she is today.
24.10.25
Wandering Wayfarer Poetry Contest
Sponsor Nette Onclaud
45 Syllables
Open prairie skies call my soul out.
Route 66 stretches on,
a long, thin ribbon of black.
I fill the tank,
breathe the wind,
past the tall oil rig that stands.
Refreshed, I turn toward home's quiet heart.
I'm always nostalgic
to visit my hometown
at least once a year if not more.
That town is cradling
my childhood memories
with care and affection, though
its morphology is totally changed.
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