Nostalgia Lost Poems

Autumn gone, now winter frost,
Reflections return, times long lost.
Words, pictures plucked from air, 
Those I know are always there.

Sixty years ago and more,
When life and...

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"The pain is deep when the heart is spent"...Poet

Your face floats through my mind
in vaporous wistful dreams of illusion
   that drape over my...

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The tree still stood where it had been,
Awaiting his return,
Awaiting an embrace of memories,
Those he hid in the deepest part.

He stood in front of the...

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- in those moments, it shines.
The nostalgia of an upside down
world glinting up through hourglasses of years,
a mark impressed upon flesh; a scar harbouring
simple childhood...

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In a box full of everything I’ve ever lost, 
The first thing I’d rummage for is the patience that could’ve led me 
To your open...

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What is? 
Fortitude. 
Let that sink in for a while. 
Missed the mark. Damn names, 
who's falling behind, body or mind? 
Image, like you know...

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           OBLIVION

         
    ...

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There was a time
when we waited eagerly
for the mailman -
when mail deliveries 
            had...

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A touch of faded memory
came alive
with a familiar scent
swept me off my feet
created havoc

...

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Looking into the yawning chasm
trying to find the gem long lost
The shattered shambles of the sky
in the backscatters of the running river

The surreal sight:
throttles the...

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Through the veiled shadow of my past, I find, 
Lessons unlearned, I was far too disinclined. 
The tart whispers of regret, a mournful song, 
I...

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2.

Once,
we picked
blackberries
under the shade
of bay trees fragrant with the kiss of sun,
not yet knowing the things that would break us;
just sweet fruit on
pregnant vines,
childish
joy.


3.

Once,
we picked
blackberries
under...

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Of all the senses, 
they say that smell 
is most closely tied 
to memory;
like Proust with 
his madeleines;
like blackberries 
in July,
in the park where 
my...

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The breeze annoying trees entices me,
I drift away    afar to fields abloom,
with silver tongues untied their whispers free —
..ah, prairie-weed does burn...

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Like a nymph walking through the woods, 
She glides soundlessly through the trees, 
Remembering their lost childhoods, 

She lifts her face to feel the breeze,...

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