Long Recollections Poems
Long Recollections Poems. Below are the most popular long Recollections by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recollections poems by poem length and keyword.
Life without you seems so surreal, so unfair that you are no longer here,
yet I still feel your strong presence, smiling while shedding a tear.
Although you've gone, so many memories reflect through my mind,
in times of trouble, you were always there, treating me so kind.
The amazing times we shared, forever live within my heart.
Physically we are not together, but mentally we are never apart.
Constant reminders of your unique fragrance still linger in the air,
especially in your closet, still full of clothes you loved to wear.
Ringing of your unique and contagious laughter still rings within my ears,
I know many more recollections like these will last a zillion years.
A white dove visits often, reminding me of your angelic grace,
every time I look into the mirror, I see your beautiful face.
Thank you for being my guardian angel, for showing signs that you're around.
Until we meet again my dearest, my love for you will continue to abound.
In days or sorrow, you always soothed with words of sincerity.
Even after death our special bond will remain for eternity.
Silent One collaboration with Cecile MacFarlane
9 November 2020
Cecile Macfarlane, is a poet who has been on Poetry Soup for a while, but her busy, busy life prevents her from posting regularly. A very talented poet.
Please check out her poems.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=14189
I have recollections
of my life's journey, thus far
the tattered pages flutter
in my dream, like snapshots
black and white and color, drifting-
all the faces, and glimpses of places . . .
And I stand trembling
as the wind takes my tangled hair
I am walking a green tree lined path
where the birds are singing
and I open a rusty, gate-
holding, a tear wet red rose . . .
And I see your name
then, like wings pages are floating
oh, I want to run from this place
for the weeping is so loud
it is breaking my heart-
turn, turn this page for it is too
painful . . .
________________________
July 19, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Dream Recollections
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1092-482-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Standard Contest 525
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
The last time my Mother sang to me
With delicate high notes, powerful and sweet,
Pushing through tremors with courage and pride;
How could I know, it was her swan song?
With delicate high notes, powerful and sweet,
Remembering each verse, she had rehearsed;
How could I know it was her swan song?
Putting challenges aside, she wanted to shine.
Remembering each verse she had rehearsed.
Pushing through tremors with courage and pride,
Putting challenges aside, she wanted to shine;
Where recollections of days long past, reflected in her eyes.
Pushing through tremors with courage and pride;
Her fragile fingers clasped in reverent prayer,
Where recollections of days long past, reflected in her eyes,
The last time my Mother sang to me.
"Haute Desiderata"
things of beauty
drip off bodies
transitory
le rêve privé
vague veil
reveals desiderata
transparent
magical
pomp
exotique
automaton
idle idol walk
robotic
sensuous
cool and vacant
such beauty
drips off bodies
transitory desiderata
elusive
illusory
birds of paradise
haughty
haute
pomp desiderata
gilded
graceful
incomplete
desiderata drifting
dwindling
desideratum
elusive
statues idyll
idle idol walk
numbing
comfortable
birds of paradise
les grand faux apparat
ad infinitum
mute Belle Époque
bardot bardo
comfortably numb
on repeat
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Schiaparelli
Haute Couture/ Fall-Winter 2022/2023
https://youtu.be/wiYtuhyj83s
“Comfortably Numb”/ Pink Floyd
https://youtu.be/_FrOQC-zEog
Desiderata
latin, meaning.
https://recollections.biz/blog/la-belle-epoque-beautiful-era/
"Desiderata" - meaning of the word; history of the poem
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desiderata
https://www.desiderata.com/desiderata-history.html
https://www.desiderata.com/desiderata.html
Max Ehrmann, Poet, American - "Desiderata"
Terre Haute, Indiana
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Ehrmann
LYRICS/ "Comfortably Numb", Pink Floyd
https://genius.com/Pink-floyd-comfortably-numb-lyrics
" The change of seasons lessens the pain of a loss, but like stars it touches those we love leaving memories no one can steal."Quote by Poet
October Fall submits to December Winter
With its grounds elegant powdery dazzling snow.
Kissing out tears of November rain to enter
Its final arctic breath and pinch of mystic glow.
No two snowflakes are alike upon window sill,
Or wind rhymes that tumbles love unforgotten times.
I search past recollections on curtains lace frill
Bring back bright times as grandfather clock silent chimes.
Memories of things like falling leaves or snowflakes
Evoke a pleasing loving embrace then crumbles
On the anniversary of a loss, does wakes
Utter helplessness as the numb heart beat stumbles.
Winter leaves with no smiles as it makes it its own
Taking the world in its embrace leaving its mark.
Please to see Spring beauty and birds melodic tone
And watch the clouds unfurl across the pressing dark.
October Fall submits to December Winter.
No two snowflakes are alike upon window sill,
Memories of things like falling leaves or snowflakes
Winter leaves with no smiles as it makes it its own.
12/11/2020
Rhyme Pattern -
4 stanzas, 4 lines of abab cdcd efef ghgh,
last verse repeat a, c, e, g lines,
12 syllables per line
so long ago, I found you, sweet
and yet, our tome is incomplete
through all the recollections, us
a query that still haunts me, thus:
what are those things I do not know
I've done, to make you hate me so?
I've searched my mind for most a life
for what I worked to bring you strife …
and as I sift thoughts past, thereof
those mem'ries only breathe of love
the moments, many, spent with you
midst yearning's tender rendezvous
yet, I'm within your heart and head
the brute you feel were better dead
I wonder, do you wait those words
of my swift passing? And once heard …
will then not come the smallest start
of longings, deep within your heart
for all sweet, tender moments, ours
the petals of those thornless flowers …
that bloomed so many bygone years
and grew from love, with not a tear
that you have somehow made a sin
oh, how did such crimes e’er begin?
the dearest love you've turned awry
and I, naught but the question, why?
how, when I leave, my final thought
will be, what is this crime I wrought …
that took my dearest love from me?
oh pray, could you please help me see?
can you not spare one crumb this bread
before your first true love ... is dead?
Another day
Like so many others
Like so many to come
Most times struggling, forcing
Noteworthiness
Into the nameless moments
And rote transitions
Churning from task to task
The voices, faces of the
Everyday morph
Into human white noise
Elegant yet within the flow
Placid along the banks
That line the hours
Our world
And those that help us
Occupy it
Reminders of our better
Sometimes desired
Selves
Float, scatter and connect us
All at once
We proceed feeling
We all will continue
That our stage of evolution
Our birthright
And shared generation
Keeps us on par
On task with sustainability
And then
It doesn't
When one of us strays
From the pack
Not by choice
Not by virtue
When one of our own
Provides a mirror we cannot
Will not
Hang ourselves
And it forces our seemingly
Rosy lens to crack and fail us
Tearing*, tearing**
The avid days into recollections
Far more real than
Previously disposed
Far more meaningful than
We care to admit
A nudge towards lessening
The ethereal we seek
Gravity in its purest form
You were the lucky one
Exempt from its grasp.
*as in rip
**as in cry
(1/31/09)
The experience of years silently accumulates within unseen pages of “Future Recollection”, gathering mental cobwebs as they age. Their vintage sweetens and enhances their contents with the passage of time.
The owner of the collection is the only one who can recall and truly appreciate the contents, but, oh, my, the preciousness of their worth is beyond priceless.
Some of the individual recollections, at the time of their origination, seemed routine and unworthy of recognition, yet … it is those seemingly insignificant instances that linger the longest and become among the most vividly impressive:
A mere instant in time when a child, attired in dirt-smudged, playground attire interrupts their playtime long enough to pause and hand to you, pressed between two tiny fingers, a single, brilliant-yellow dandelion … behind which is an angelic, beautiful smiling face broadcasting pure, raw love, as a gift, just for you;
The evidence of the disappearance of a tear on the cheek of a grandchild, after you’ve medicated away a small hurt with a hug, and the holding of that child next to you, saturated in genuine caring and understanding;
Enormous waves of pride, threatening to burst your heart, initiated by an accomplishment of your teenager who has provided you with mountains of concerns during their rearing.
Our “Future Recollections” are translated into “Past Memories” when we need them the most, and the most memorable events of our lives are re-awakened through them. Thank goodness they were created way back when.
mother time has paid her fare
the memory of youth, behind and gone
reflecting this life, either heaven-or a waking nightmare
the mirror reflects old eyes that stare
recollections of a dawn to a twilight curtain drawn
mother time has paid her fare
from the darkness i stared into the glare
and sowed a seed upon the road to Babylon
reflecting this life, either heaven-or a waking nightmare
pages of future destiny scare and tear
but i grieve not for the past long gone
mother time has paid her fare
character arose out of a soul laying bare
truth in the saying-its always the darkest before the dawn
reflecting this life, either heaven-or a waking nightmare
trod upon a path without any fanfare
from sunrise to sunset i kept on
mother time has paid her fare
reflecting this life, either heaven-or a waking nightmare
As I settled down, I sowed the seeds of love in my children.
My inner urge grew with them, separating our lids.
On passion, empathy, and respect, a delightful interlude
I appreciated them throughout their youth.
My hard work was rewarded, and I'm overjoyed.
It felt more valuable than what I had knighted.
Everyone is raising children in their own houses.
My house became a safe haven, free of worry.
Looking at my tired wife's tired eyes and shaky desk.
Discover years of agony—it's quite nasty.
There are old books and print fragments all over our house.
That's not a lot of wrapping for a lifetime of reaping.
We both have a positive attitude most of the time.
Are modest, quiet children doing well in lyceums correct?
And who prays fervently and pays their bills on time.
Those who hold the line and run their duty are glorious.
After the kids leave home, I'll build a geodesic dome.
What will the night be like for us?
Several trays, but we don't eat much, and joy.
Now comes the certain impact of aging and shift.
Following a road that is both straight and weird
This poor squire is facing his own problems.
I can tackle the situation to the bone.
My favorite recollections are from the nest.
The darker murmurs of the sky whisper in her breast.
My now-empty life's never-ending silence
The cocoon grew, oblivious to its conflict.
Written: April 30, 2023
Empty Nest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Cooper Etheridge