Long Reminiscence Poems
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Sun-soaked
spectral topography
sculpts with lattice
of longing
luminescent,
the veering valley
of my lucent life
undulating briskly
in plains of passion
with the cadence
of sensuous stream
swirling sequined euphoria
contented,
clung confident
with bond of sanguinity
to the cluster
of glimmering gold nuggets
carved out
of precious life’s
aureate moments
treasured.
Sediment of essence
ebullient
carried convivial by
ecstasy current,
dazzles as dregs
rolling with restive time
turbulent
in the torrent
of cloud-burst fallen sky,
flows through reminiscence
fervent
to the flood plain
of plaintive obscurity
far.
In ceaseless search
of transferred treasure trove
eroded,
buried besieged
within the strata
stagnant
of time past
stalled,
I wade wistfully
confounded
through engulfing marsh
of quandary
in submerged existence,
excavate the layers
languished
of petrified memory
in twilight hour
tranquil.
In senile shine
of the setting sun
fading fast,
each evanescent moment
propelling surging tide
of turmoil
ebbs out of fleeting mind
ephemeral,
I exhume enthused
relentless
trinkets of remembrance
from sands of time
settled satiated
perpetually,
retrieve in rapture
the gilded instants
mudlarking the memory.
He sat in his recliner in the balcony,
the evening soft breeze so cool, tender
with his eyes closed as if in a trance;
The light breeze swept along his wrinkled skin
caressing everything it touched on its way
at the tiny square balcony garden -
the blooms, leaves, herbs
and his soul soaked in its soothing touch!
His drowsy eyes still closed
he sat in reminiscence of the past
of all that had happened to him:
Now in his mid sixties - creased, faded skin,
withering tree - leaves drying and falling;
His once flexible brain losing elasticity
as is his skin - little by little,
with no one at his side
to talk to or care for him.
All Alone!
He heard the evening chorus of pigeons,
and opened his eyes to see
them flocking across the sky,
as they swooped and soared in
various shapes against the orange sky.
His eyes brightened at this sight!
Again, memories of so many incidents
recent and past - flashed before his eyes:
the loss of his better half to an accident,
the abuse, the neglect by his sons,
those disturbing exchange of words
that only made matters worse,
the endless wait for his sons
to return proved futile.
Ducklings that he devotedly cared
Flew swiftly away from his homestead.
Leaving him
All Alone!
He heard the tinkle of the windchimes,
as it swayed in the gentle breeze.
His mind dissolved in its mellifluous melody!
He has fallen down for the umpteenth time.
He has no vigour left
or desire to get up and move;
He is gradually mastering the art:
Of being dissolved
In the fragility of life
Like a scattered dust...
To be gently carried away by the breeze!
Embracing that precious moment!
All Alone!
Date: 11/03/2020
Submitted for Ambedo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Second Place
I saw blue sky of an old home
hanging on the windshield of the car I was steering,
while, for it is a life’s routine,
driving through the rapid movement of a day,
where a cosmos swaying by the wind as a lost season,
though I have no notion that why the day
always has to go one step ahead of me.
On the surroundings of my wearisome life
that I have to live through,
the blue sky of my old home hanging on the windshield
and the roadside swaying cosmos
made me recall the season of autumn,
the season I was forgotten all about,
an autumn has to be an autumn
and when my fingertip touches
to search for an old reminiscence through the windshield,
the blue sky ascends higher and higher
to reach the stars other side of sitting sun
as a ripening season of my hometown.
I watch the morning rise with splendor in the sky and the calm sea running towards me echoing the voice of optimism. It is the voice that you hear when you cleared the cliff and you stand on the hill and look at the depth from which you rise and the pain suddenly disappears.
So calm is the sea with its bosom spreading all over me and sunlight spilling an array of passion from above hitting on clear blue waters. I can feel the rays of hope all over me and the waters leading me on leaving evidence of footprints in the sand, and the sea and I become one.
We rode all day on the sea whispering in each other’s ears and screaming above the flattened wave, we giggled and laugh aloud spewing water in each other’s mouth, we were like children again holding on to each others like old friends with the innocence of truth trembling on our lips and the writhing rhythm moving in our hips and the silent music contracts with the bliss and we kept sailing on.
Night has almost fallen and the stars and moon brightens up the sky and we move to a place of solitude covering fists, and holding hands while our boats slowly meander out in the deep and reminiscence in the vast blue ocean.
It is the part of me that you cannot see when my heart bubbles with the sediments of the ocean and the openness from the heavens sprinkles hope of happiness below in the stillness of joy.
I can hear the echoes in the fathomless sea of one crying for his lost sheep, I can connect with the pain of that nerve racking shame and I searched for something to hold onto and there you were right beside me holding my hands and listening to the voices crying out in the foams.
The vastness of the sea comes alive and fish were riding by our side, the whales too were having fun but the great big sharks were on the run and our boat kept moving on.
We traveled half way around the world with the stars hanging above our head with the moon light gallivanting in our bed but the bosom of the sea keeps us warm.
Come and ride with me and the discover the wealth of the great big sea.
The mystique mist
of amorphous ambiguity
shrouds under opaque veil
the penultimate pathway
to the terminal time post
in the cauldron of future,
obscure.
In transient twilight hour
sunset swansong resonates
in the void valley of life,
forlorn,
silhouetted still
against the sunken skyline,
weaving indigo filigree,
melancholic.
Twirling turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at the pallid fringe
of passion cloud clumps,
petrified,
surging with sensuous storm
from the onyx horizon,
ornate once with halcyon hues,
rinsing chameleon chimera
ephemeral,
on the yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame.
From the burnt relic
of memory menagerie
reminiscence ashes
fly away in whirlwind,
unbound.
Splintered shards of hope,
adrift in despondent current
of fluid fervor,
flow in sullen stream
of billion tear drops
in the twilight zone.
The remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shapeshift into strings
of psychic violin,
resonant.
Resurgent orchestra
survives still
behind the fallen curtain,
performs the last symphony
for the lone audience.
The melody of latent concerto
suffuses the listless life
with tuneful echo
of serenading sanguinity,
timeless.
High school love life... memorable with sheer delight
prevailing still against oblivion's attack!
Such is a romantic reminiscence lingering in my heart
since I experienced being love-stricken as a teen-ager...
Oh, those red paper roses
enclosing fresh white ones
scented sweetly with baby cologne
made me feel I was the very apple of his eye...
Then love notes wholeheartedly penned
(though copied) held me spell-bound
midst his "My ever dearest" greeting
and "Very sincerely yours" closing...
Yes, high school love life
proved that "I was not abnormal"
who was only in love with academics
because I believed that he and I were mutually in a relationship...
...Now, I can only bask with thrilling moments
letting exuberance gripped me
when talking about my high school "crush"
while thanking God* for His love allowing me to keep what I cherish.
*1Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
February 11, 2026
1st place, "A Time For Us" Poetry Writing
Sponsored by JCB Brul; judged on 3/3/2026
Circa - approximately early
to late nineteen sixties,
where yours truly
found himself surly,
particularly compounded
if my parents,
where Mister and
Missus Santa Claus
played by Boyce and
Harriet Harris respectively
failed to purchase
for this sole son,
thee latest trendy
toy, sans whirly
gig, gizmo, or
fuzzy electric doohickey,
BUT NOTHING girly.
Translation: Inxs of
severe (incurable) envy
infected Matthew Scott
most pronounced, asper
quantity of presents,
the gratitude receiving gifts
meant diddly squat
if I counted less goodies,
than either eldest,
and/or youngest sister got.
This rancor kept
under (ahem) wraps
though ironically, either
sibling oohed and ahed
over some fancy shmancy
garment with snaps,
which this lad
feigned ambivalence,
indifference, or
repugnance toward getup
for young chaps.
No sooner did the
last, (and usually
biggest) boxed surprise
found these then kiddie
fingers tearing into,
when thine irritating
nasal voice didst rise
above the melee "That's all,"
or some variation
on said theme blurted out
as "FAKE" real lies
already, eagerly, and impatiently
anticipating same holiday
three hundred and sixty
five days, hence unaware
how fast "time flies"
now this soon to be newly
minted sexagenarian eyes,
those memories of innocent
naiveté, and bliss
with sentimental nostalgia
(envision: slight moisture
around tear ducts), and
aye close this poem
with reminiscence dabbed
with tissue sadness dries.
Shades of Awakening
Cool of the moon dampened the heat of the sun.
Corals of sleep invigorate the restful one.
Falling awake on this crystal clear morn,
Into cerulean, my soul is born.
Naked and relaxed, aquamarine inspired,
Freedom of expression aligns, with what is desired.
Torso eases heavenward, raising the headless mind higher,
The soul whispers chartreuse, countering any mire.
The nose is the first to welcome, summer’s warm breath,
Lilac reminiscence, of youthful ambition’s clash with death.
Eyes ease open with a newborn's stare,
Taking lavender and wonder, of what may be there.
The sun’s rays creep evermore slowly into morning’s night.
Providing focus and saffron, toward the One true Light.
Silent beauty abounds, and finally words begin to take shape,
Lemon thoughts of what may lie beyond the drape.
With a backward bounce rolling into an upward leap,
A tangerine mind set robs gravity of its attempt to keep.
As if steadied with a rare watermelon tourmaline,
The first step of the day brims with summertime hues unforeseen.
Life can be relentless and unforgiving, stumbling at times crumbling under the pressure of trying to be normal, learning from the obstacles that we must jump over with precise patience.
I’ve discovered you must be careful on who you choose to share your life with, the forever witness to your good, bad and all that lays in-between.
As you begin to track each other’s footprints from pass lives you map out previous trodden tracks and discover each other’s tempo
And witness the sweetness in between the bitterness and you both see each other for who you truly are.
Because learning the melody of our love language aids in discovering the remedy in our solace
And echoes in to all our tomorrows.
At times we are burdened with reminiscence of ourselves as 12-year olds? Pondering on the injustice we faced.
Overcome with sadness that, I couldn’t be your compass to guide you through that madness
But would this love taste, this sweet with the absence of character building bitterness?
For now I will wrap my golden wings around your monochrome tones and ascend you to soaring new heights as we take flight.
Fill you with my loving light.
Play the games that we missed out on like tag and listen to you brag about how good of a basketball player you were. And end with a game of I spy... Why? because you are the most beautiful girl that I spy with my little eye.
We would return to earth as idols knowing that our tale is one of survival.
In this moment dispel generational curses, sculpture our future with the knowledge that no one can stop what is destined
Kismet is what brought us together, understanding, patience, respect and eternal love is what will bond us for infinity.
Coagulation Starter – 3-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coagulation
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
Flowing like insomnia
Between the wounds of dawn and dusk
When wounded memories drip pools of enigmas,
Fleeting gossamers of absolutes,
Drying into sticky puzzles.
Bloodied dreams wander labyrinths,
With no exits,
Leaving spatters of millstones
For ruminating relics to follow,
Thin images of wispy encounters
Fade
In lost chords of words,
Ghosts gel from gashes.
Impostors of reality
Spit rebellious clots into ruminating plateaus,
And phantoms,
To leave a crimson stain
On unwelcomed daylight and martyred Mondays
Stirring penance from clotting confessions.
Tourniquets unbound,
Veins transfused congeal in coalescence
As platelets and corpuscles gather yesterday
Into the flow, a cadence, blood pressure restored,
The pulse of reminiscence throbs
Memoirs course through venous vessels,
Then seek a place
To dream.