Nostalgic Poems - Poems about Nostalgic

Putting in writing Listening to others Listening to myself Leaning on my feet A chair, rose in a vase A bird singing outside the window It hurts so much that I want to pass out for a few days It's shameful. It's scary. It's furious....

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The Weight of Time Time moves like a quiet tide, softly stealing what once was mine. Faces blur, voices fade, memories drift like autumn leaves. The clock hands never pause, never ask if I’m ready or not. They just keep turning, pulling me forward, leaving the past behind. I reach for moments slipping away, but time is a river, and I am the shore. Watching, waiting,...

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Through all the years of these elemental seasons changing, I've thought about all of the reasons why life can be depressing, As well as why all these memories trespass my every feeling....

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Sitting in a dim room I wait I start to hesistate Should I leave or should I stay I feel like I'm only going to get in the way Suddenly the door opens And a man smiles It's a girl he says It was worth the while Im going to be a father Why was my mind playing would I rather I'm so glad I...

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Viewing window made as skull hits stone Domes are forged in shattered bone Trapped inside this open space Shadows obscuring expressionless face Reflections of the hangman's noose As arms outstretch to catch the truth Scraps of wall show cracked repair Heads hanging with weight of despair Infinity clasps with an open hand Silence reverberates unspoken demand Within catchment we dwell in...

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"I am leaving now, my love." I wistfully with misty eyes say, As he kissed my lips while wiping all of my tears away. I leave the pasta here, for I know I'll come again every day....

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Ah, such nostalgic nights, Twirled in skirt, wearing tights, Music soothed our soul, We sang along to Rock'N" Roll, Jiving with our thunderthighs, Supper, plates of fries, Our tunes--"Mama Mia" too, Does Abba mean much to you? Part of "Kultcha" in our land, Nostalgic nights, Karaoke band, Good, clean wholesome fun, Boomers in our setting sun!...

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True Golden Is the light given to write The words that lovingly depart Gleaned from the collection of moments Watching the dance of life on a limitless silent stage While the multitude of days fold in-between A ream of poems on blank paper sheets Rehearsing years of storied elegies That churn and spill upon a new Light of understanding Recounting hope Enlightenment Wisdom Love...

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‘the sole surviving minnow floats recipe-laden toward the NGO* shark’ ...

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Summer- embraced, like a returning friend- from a distant land. Here warmth descends- here, she’s standing at the green fence. Listen- Summer’s chipping off her snack- rain and leaves crunched, with the cracks, incessantly- stirring a nostalgic hunger’s lack. Summer & melancholic hopers/the night eaters in awakened dreams that have a bygone savor of love & loss becoming-...

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Rock is still allowed, Yong and old so proud, Teen queens and studs, Shocking olden fuds, To old rockers, we wave, From our youth, a fave, Every age of yore, Will blame those before, No limits on rock today, You still rocking, USA?...

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I miss the days of mine I miss the old me which used to shine Like a star with unrelenting light But now I love the darkness of night That old excitement of occasions That large happiness in little things And the pride in all my possessions Made me felt like I had wings I miss myself while caring a lot Though aspersion was...

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No days, such euphoric, as these! Flashbacks passing through me, while I pass through that street Wondering,to be scolded again, how it feels Either the same sentiment of rage or the memory that heals To live in remembrance of those school days, better it feels No days, such memorable, as these! Waking up was hard, dressing up was pain Milk...

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Father’s toes are steel-capped, Rough, worn-out leather, a layer Of thick polish that cracks With each bend, each step. His feet carry a child’s weight, A bundle of laughter and bouncing curls Balanced at his ankles, shuffling Across outdated carpeted floors. A moment of decompression After a day of hard labour, father Carried the child from infantile morning To the matured evening. There came a time...

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“Wettened by the mornings dew Closely spaced where rows of roses grew Footprints stained the cobblestone Where my love and I had walked, alone” I become nostalgic, whenever I think of it Unmindful of surroundings, not even a bit Like butterflies, in full romantic mood There, with each other, we were glued...

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