Long Reminiscing Poems
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My love for you is wider than Victoria Lake
And taller than the Empire State
Now, I could give you more than that
So surely you want me back
Is it a crime? Please tell me, if it’s a crime?
That I still want you
And I want you to want me, too
I wake up at night with you on my mind
Your soul passes through mine all the time
When I realize that you’re not in my life
Warm, salty tears flow from my eyes
My life feels pointless without you here
Every night I manage to shed a few tears
I’ve been in love with you for a whole seven years
But I’m “All Cried Out” over you
The thing is, you really have no kind of clue
Though, it’s not hard to see that you don’t really want to
In my world, only you
What would I do for your love?
No, no, no! The question is
What I would not do?
My friends wonder what is wrong with me
Cause I’m in a daze, from your love you see
I just had to let you know
Got a thing for you and I can’t let go
Reminiscing to “Have You Ever” by Brandy
I wonder what I gotta do to get you in my arms
What I gotta say to get to your heart
I wish you’d understand how I need you next to me
Trying to figure out why you don’t feel the same
Has got me losing sleep
I mean, I look in your eyes and lose myself
With you I always put my salt on the shelf
Cause I know that together we could be beautiful
But you’re not willing to let your feelings go
With each day, my love for you grows
But, you don’t care, I’m sure
You might just appreciate it in all but, I need more
Cause I wanna “Rock With You”
And maybe “Take It To The Top With You”
I just wanna love you, baby
Always thinking of you daily
When you come my way
You brighten each and everyday
With your sweet smile
You really are my everything
And you truly are my happiness
Something special I see in you
I can’t find in anyone else
You make my life complete
Because of you I can’t sleep
A special part of me
And only you hold that key
Though, I only want the best, it’s true
I can’t believe the things I’m willing to do for you
There’s no need to hold it back anymore
I find there’s nothing I won’t do for your love
“I Keep Holding On”
Cause the love I have for you runs so strong
SO PLEASE REMEMBER THIS FOR ME
When you think you can’t go nowhere
My front door, and love, will always be here
Or when life treats you unkind
Please feel free to drop by anytime
Form:
My life as a Kitten
I perk up an ear as always when I hear the car start
I run and hop as fast as I can, looking like a hare
Not able to contain myself, I rush outside the pet door into the field like a dart
Never forgetting one second, in the beautiful field, to enjoy the fresh air
I run and hop as fast as I can, looking like a hare
But today I stop midway, ‘what is that I spy?’
Never forgetting one second, in the beautiful field, to enjoy the fresh air
Far in the distance I see things fly
But today I stop midway, ‘what is that I spy?’
As I crawl closer I purr and they slowly land on my soft golden fur
Far in the distance I see things fly
I look out into the field and my grayish bluish eyes begin to blur
As I crawl closer I purr and they slowly land on my soft golden fur
I recall the day I opened my eyes for the first time and I swore
I look out into the field and my grayish bluish eyes begin to blur
Mom always thought I was so brave especially being the youngest of the litter
I recall the day I opened my eyes for the first time and I swore
I couldn’t believe all the beauty and fun I have been missing
Mom always thought I was so brave especially being the youngest of the litter
I always find myself reminiscing
I couldn’t believe all the beauty and fun I have been missing
Ever since then my blue butterfly friends and I would be so hardcore
I always find myself reminiscing
Sometimes I even would try to roar
Ever since then my blue butterfly friends and I would be so hardcore
That’s why my adopted family named me Courage
Sometimes I even would try to roar
My blue friends think it so funny since all I can, is meow and continue to encourage
That’s why my adopted family named me Courage
Then it starts raining, I hate getting wet, so my friends guide me back home through the pour
My blue friends think it so funny since all I can, is meow and continue to encourage Before letting them go, playfully with my front paws I try and catch at least four
Then it starts raining, I hate getting wet, so my friends guide me back home through the pour
Not able to contain myself, I rush outside the pet door into the field like a dart
Before letting them go, playfully with my front paws I try and catch at least four
I perk up an ear as always when I hear the car start
Life is good wen ur missing that certain fragrance, warmth heated imaginary endless love, soft kisses filled with Every intention to kover a wonded heart, heaven threw hell i was floating right pass the moon on dayz that should b irrelevant. Home is the highest energy u kould feel, i dislike knowing that ur the valve to my heart n mind that certain key that Broke into my lock, im no locksmith ,just give me 5 or 2 min with u and i have u feeling different, so either run away from me on a different planet and i know u Still love me with sadness that i kouldnt change to a different route of a cycle of a man that kan be there for you lookn gudd to a point , satisfied like either broke or poor well b ok whats higher than high? family, i wanna bring you all ur needs its not ur needs that u want from me just me and im missing you beyond missing like are coming threw? i miss u ,i have passion in us and you should know being the luckiest gurl in Life wouldnt be no gudd with a lil madness
like the world is tragic loving you forever n ever And more its programmed to our conscience automatic so my love exist wen i lay my last breath ,I say im selfish, kids in my life why Kouldnt i stop when, when u gave me chance after chance With that there I dnt deserve bliss u deserved kids ,sayin that? is that a lil kid Mind , Im a blindless guy in the world ,now im A hypocrite Who isnt.. Just know i love u Not even close Like the ojays.... Not ever like the future lame squeeze, i hate being the guy you'll be reminiscing of ,wat u were missing, wen you should be right next to me, like did u forget what u left behind threw arguing ,How do u say no more bcuz if ur heart hurts instantly shouldnt I TURN MY BACK ON YOU, Well i should turn it around , A roaming stream of feelings against Urself and knowing our luv is luv.. Real love or mistaken love, Like its not enough, i feel like the world is mine when were all layed up I keep messin up. A lil bit more and more konstantly i would nvr expect the world to just up n leave Hurt and just done to even bare to stick around me, sick n tired of being hurt once again so fall and i will katch you like a baseball mit , i feel you like Im missing you, i See you like Im missing you And i kant even touch when im missing you which I know the message Wats falling over and breathin Wen its the barely the 2nd inning
Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparents' grand home
for Christmas.
It was a gracious dining room.
Noontime sun streaming in.
Chair rail with deep red wallpaper, white trim.
Decorating the lace clothed "Big Table"
was a tallish 1870s porcelain Meissen fruit centerpiece
with lovers circling the stem.
Even the adults had to look around it.
Grandmother "Lil" and "Mister B"
were at their nouveau best.
All their progeny seated in good form
awaiting the traditional invocation by "Mister B".
Also seated were the ones that were to be
"seen but not heard" at our side table, the "Kids' Table."
Draped card tables for the dozen of us -
me, my brother and sisters and cousins.
Everyone all scrubbed in dresses and ties.
Mine was a clip on.
As expected, a milk glass got tipped. Spilt milk.
Besides that, we kids had great fun and
became friends again as we did each year.
The thing of it was, none of us liked
being at the "Kids' Table."
We felt lesser, unworthy, subtly so.
Even when I was ten, I knew there were
only two ways to get to the big one:
marriage or go in the army.
We all wondered what it was like to be adult.
After all, most of them smoked.
They all had drinks.
The women had figures, swishy swirls.
The men wore suits like they knew how.
At the "Big Table" they all talked like experts
about stuff we didn't understand
and they laughed loudly at Uncle Bob's jokes.
As the years moved on, things would change,
always do.
I saw virtually all my cousins
disassemble their lives too early -
marriages, divorces, addictions, lost jobs, left school -
beleaguered into inevitable submission.
My family miraculously unscathed.
But they're all gone now,
"Big Table" and little table too.
All that's left from the 50s
is my brother, sister and me.
For years, I was at the "Big Table" since my brood and I
took over the Christmas tradition.
The "Big Table" conversation was
superficial and posing was prevalent.
So one year, I put myself at the "Kids' Table." Just for fun.
Yes, milk got tipped.
But oh, the wonderment and hope. A meal that truly was
food for the soul.
Now that I'm old and looking back,
with a quiet smile, mulling it,
I kinda liked the "Kids' Table" better.
Colored pencil illustration by G.Gaul
I am not a politician
I have very little interest for politics
Reminiscing on Diddy’s vote or die campaign
Rallying behind Senator John Kerry Wishing I were old enough to vote
My how things have changed
Obama’s groundbreaking history was scarecrow
No brainer enticed me/I had to cast a ballot
I am still not a politician/I have very little interest for politics
Ruled by Caucasian Republicans and house niggas
Who don’t care about helping the poor
Or restoring a nation/ That seen the horrors of 9/11
Troops who went to war and never returned home
An economy that has knocked down
Some who were atop the financial ladder
To paper or plastic/Cheese with that whopper
Foodstamps and free Medicare benefits
Naive in a way when it comes to our leaders presidency
But I’ve seen the effort Healthcare among other bills
Met by Congress with resilience
A potential government shutdown that threatened
To send us to a modern day great depression
Insults being thrown at the first lady/Quicker than Randy Johnson’s fastball
But hey I’m still not a politician/I have very little interest for politics
Politics that haven’t seem to get past/ Obamas brown skin
The fact that the man be balling/Like he Jim Jones
Tinted lips from blazing Newport cigarettes and herbs Im sure
He is too much of a nigga /And they hate that ****
But what I think they hate the most/Is he's a polished nigga
With a Harvard degree, articulates well
And as Katt Williams so eloquently put it/He has no baby mama drama
He deserves the respect of his colleagues
**** it that he's swagged out like ya favorite rapper
Wears skinny suits and has a strut/
That puts Eva, Tyra, and Naomi to shame
He's a boss, Rick Ross
See this is why Im not a politician
I have very little interest for politics/Rather Im politically correct
Or politically incorrect/Never said I was a politician
My interest for politics lies in the lines of this poem/
Swaggarack capturing America's #1 terrorist
Left him deceased/On that Donald Trump they wanna see a death certificate
Spoof video, you wasn’t messing with Barack's Dougie
No way can I be interested in corrupt politics
Stomaching politicians with no morals
Reiterating again I will never be a politician
And despite my rundown of unjust riddles
I still have very little interest for politics
"you are more than I deserve. It's a love I never dreamed I'd find. Happinesd like this is worth dying for..."
- Yasunari Kawabata-
Looking down, while flying midway between sky and earth,
I saw a dog on the grey tongue of an abandoned road,
Licking its genitals under summer-noon's hot slogan.
And I understood how badly I had drifted from your hills.
The hearth, that eatthen hearth, we often mended with butter-clay scooped out of a shallow river called "wahumkhra",
every time it cracked, pitilessly, after meals we managed to cook, sparingly though, will always remain as the only string that holds the chandelier of my fragile existence.
O that sweet hunger, how I yearn for it now.
The pallet of pine-needles stiched with old sacks,
on which we gathered dreams with smell of pine forests,
was no lesser than the priest's preachings on sunday mornings about His heaven's promised infinite sleep.
The narrow streets on which I doddered looking for work,
with constantly slipping away toes from outworn sandals,
while you waited for me with the blossoming seed in your belly, a future, full of honeyed beehives, over which I staggered drunk with restlessness of a beggar, for which I repent till this day.
I never knew, honestly, that I will become an irrelevant thread in the embroidery of jasmines on the hem of mekhala chaddar worn by a naiad, for the first time, shyly, when she attained puberty, and on the day of her subsequent gandharva marriage to an alchemist.
For the time being, I exist as a windless flag with no colors, neither white nor of any color known to mankind.
My soul and heart stay bled, like the butchered wings of Jatayu, but sweetheart, you will hear me flutter, sometimes, in the chuckling of a wounded squirrel and wailing of a cicada in the pine-hills where winds tease clouds, where you dwell reminiscing shadows of our silhouetting nonsenses.
Notes :
1. Mekhala chaddar, a traditional of Assamese women.
2. Gandharva marriage is one of the eight classical types of hindu marriage. This ancient marriage tradition from the Indian subcontinent was based on mutual attraction between to people, with no rituals, witnesses or family participation.
3. Jatayu was a vulture, in the hindu epic ramayana, whose wings were severed by ravana's sword, while attempting to rescue sita when the latter kidnapped her.
Form:
Written: March 05, 2025
***********************
As the final petal droops
upon quivering leaves,
while the soul begins to decay
akin to the evening lights
fading into a coffin.
Tears flow quietly across vacant rooms,
sheltered in the hidden retreat,
of a hapless fool folly.
Aged and forsaken, an ancient blade lies
on a ragged oak table.
All around the termite-ridden
floorboards are strewn with
tattered sheets of stories.
Valiant voices of victory,
vibrate in vivid verses,
preserved with lively Ink.
Decades of disarray have faded away,
leaving behind a cherished tale,
its inked revelations whirl into a frenzy,
as I peer through the glass,
reminiscing about those golden days
when my youth overflowed with joy.
I couldn't assist but notice
the drooping scarlet dahlias.
A gleaming golden crown,
sparkling with lovely
crimson queens
rests upon the head of a forlorn exile—
and that is all that remains.
Under the relentless sun
that preys upon the flames,
how can I rise above
the crimson chaos
that encroaches at the edges,
surrounding the ghostly grave
of the poetic soul
I have lost in the quest for acclaim.
Within the weeping window,
a wild wonder reveals itself,
draped in a vivid shade of vermilion.
Amid the whispers of wayward spirits,
the flawless porcelain of our past
now bears unsightly marks.
Fractured dreams are embellished
with delicate threads, while shafts of
sunlight slices through shadowy skies.
The family fortress,
frozen in cold stone,
waits for its wary wanderer,
beckoning the illustrious
to traverse its dimly paths.
In the serene silence of slumber,
the sorrowful saga emerges.
The embrace of eternal sleep.
A chilling chronicle of the collapse
cascades in the corridors
akin to a haunting harmony.
The aspiration and avarice
ultimately overwhelmed us
As the clock chimed cheerfully
at midnight on that chilling night,
the cunning usurper brandished
a blade and brutally
broke their beings,
birthing ghosts of grim,
unspoken words to weep
behind weathered walls.
At this moment, I am
the emerald evening
of the early dawn,
The waxen white wick
that waits before their
weathered tombstone is
withered to a whisper.
I was walking down the neighbourhood,
reminiscing how it all
used to be where we made believe
that we were nymphs in a wood,
except the once moist earth was parched,
and the once white air was brown...
and footpaths and landmass
were suddenly under a filter of grey...
Here I stop by this grandfather tree,
one in my eyes would be older than me.
But when I touched the bark
and the lowest leaf,
it whispered, "Speak, child of Eve,
now that I'm awake from my sleep."
I walked backwards,
scratching and tilting my head,
wondering what was messed with my senses;
had climate change really gotten into my head?
Now although I am shocked,
and my mind can't think so fast,
my tongue does the work for me:
"How have you lived this long?" it asks.
A wind blows, and my eyes take up,
imagining him stretching the rusty spine of a trunk.
He then speaks, in the gruff and cranky voice:
"You humans do whatever you want,
kill what you see with your eyes,
and spare what they think would fit their design best."
My eyes wander, to the settlements gray,
and remembered, the green kingdom where we'd played.
"Do you ever miss them?" I wish I hadn't asked,
but there is no way of turning time, and I continue to ask:
"The others of your kind, the ones that fell,
were they family, or friends at best?"
The grandfather shuddered, cold and angry,
I could feel his thoughts, how he wished
that I'd not reminded of what sored him.
"But what good would it do to think of the dead all day?"
He adds, "Isn't that what your mother always says?
Best ask her yourself, I'm sure my answer would be same;
for though you'd branched out early, we share one ancient family name.
But for now leave me be, your kind has hurt me enough,
to be sworn enemies, still, I'd rather sleep it through."
I turn around annoyed, wandering what tricks my fancies play,
then I stop so suddenly, with one last question to say:
"How do you know me?" I ask, not expecting replies,
but he says in return: "I used to watch you as a child,
"And in your early days I'd hold you when your limbs weren't so ripe,
I'd watched you walk, then I was worried,
when my own limbs tripped yours.
I'd thought since that misplaced root, that you'd never come back.
But now that I've talked to you, I feel
weirdly warm and comforted to sleep."
I wake up to a deserted town
"Where are the people?"
I ask myself aloud.
"Gone." answers a voice.
But no one's here...
but me.
Broken glass litters the street,
a Kristallnacht in the making.
Houses, half gone and half standing,
specked the dirt road.
I lay, pinned to the ground by a monstrous wall...
I don't know if I'll be able to move...
but I must try.
"Hello! Anyone there?"
No reply.... just what I thought.
As distress fills my heart,
I use that anger and helpless feeling to my advantage
and somehow
I managed to lift the heavy burden off my chest.
But this was a small victory in what seemed to be WW II.
ALAS! I remember.
This is WW II....
and the US had just dropped something...
something unusual on my town...
I'm surprised I'm still alive.
The explosion was enough to kill all of my native land,
Japan.
But it only stopped 2 miles from the heart of my country,
Tokyo.
But no time for reminiscing.
I must find a way out of this...
hell.
A sharp pain in my chest heaves me to the ground,
I've seen this ground so many times, face to face.
Something starts to lunge itself out of my mouth.
When I look down, I notice
that it is my own blood.
I knew I must find a hospital, quick,
but which way was which?
Was East West? Was West South?
Was North behind me? Was South ahead?
I sulked in defeat as I trudged along a snake-like road...
a road to nowhere.
I grew weary, hungry, tired
but I knew I must walk on.
Every few minutes, I'll drop to my knees
and cough up my life support,
but I couldn't let that stop me.
The sun went down,
but I didn't.
The moon rose,
I kept walking.
The sun started his day-shift,
but I was at work all night,
counting steps and listening my heart beat.
Finally, I lost the will to live,
I wanted to die,
I waited to die...
But death didn't come.
I spit up blood every few seconds now.
Life leaving me with every breath.
I close my eyes, and draw in my last breath.
Muffled sounds reach my ears.....
I try to look but my vision's blurred.
Everything blacks out.
"I will not be defeated"
My vision is back.... I see people...
Everything blacks out.
"I will not be defeated"
I see their faces now, splattered with dirt and dust
Everything blacks out.
"I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED!!!!!"
I CAN SEE!
"Are you with us?!"
A desperate cry reaches my ears.
And I reply,
"Yes. Yes I am."
We were cousins and had grown up
Close friends, living not far apart.
When I was nine and he was eight,
(His sister and my brothers were younger)
We were going to get married
Some day and have ten children,
Ten dogs, ten cats, and ten horses.
We played on the park playground
(He broke his arm falling from a swing).
We climbed trees, played card games
And board games and soldiers, and
In summer our mothers and we
Cousins took the long trek by train
And boat to swim at Nantasket Beach
One day my father found a new job,
And we moved away, far from home
As we had always known it.
My cousins also moved away,
To another, farther place, so
For years we saw each other only
On holidays or special occasions.
Although we weren’t strangers,
We were never really that close again.
We grew older, married new sweethearts,
And started families of our own.
Of course we always made promises
On Christmas cards, “We really MUST
Get our families together this year!”
But it seemed only funerals or weddings,
A 90th birthday, or a 50th anniversary
Would find us once again together,
Reminiscing about the “good old days”
When we were all children, and
We were oblivious, and time
Seemed to stretch ahead into infinity.
We have lived nearer to each other
In the last few decades, but days
And years have drifted by. Often we’ve
Put off visiting ’til “tomorrow”.
Now we are grandparents, even great
Grandparents, we and our spouses
Suddenly surprised with health issues.
And so we wake to find tomorrow
Is not always a possible option!
Finally, next week, I WILL travel -
It’s not so far - to visit with my cousin,
His sister passed on, wife in the hospital.
He is not well, and she will not,
He tells me, leave the hospital.
Why, as years go by, do we always
Assume an endless supply of time?
We toss off, “See you next week”,
Or “We’ll get together next summer!”
But can we ever be sure of that?
Forget the excuses! Do it now!
We most regret the things we didn’t do!
CODA
We had finally made new plans to travel,
At last, to see my cousin Don
And, possibly, even his wife, Ginny.
We had bought the ferry tickets.
But the night before, a storm came up
And forced us to cancel our trip.
---------------------------
Tomorrow I will go to his funeral.