Beautiful Old Poems | Examples
These Beautiful Old poems are examples of Old poems about Beautiful. These are the best examples of Old Beautiful poems written by international poets.
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((bamb))
new soul
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*bamb; hindi
Rooted into oblivion
Set feet first in dirt
Lumpy cavities crashing upward
Gnarly outer layer
Barnacles breaking out
Lost in the years of growth
Final storm tips the top
Brushing through cracking limb
Tipping with lost balance
Exposing twisted lines
Broken from the earth
Woman or tree
Still beautiful to me
Old Family Photo Album
Family photo album
The entire family is long deceased
Album ends up in a thrift store
Full of beautiful family photos and history
Sits on shelf unsold
Gathering dust
Write A Beautiful Terza Rima,
Contest sponsor: Constance La France
Date Written: 4/17/2026
I am challenged by the dark night
Some nights ample tears fall like rain
Now I feel I've come to the light
As I traverse world's rocky lane
Always I've lived by his strange beat
He chose me, I cannot explain
I followed pathway of his feet
Sometimes, I did in my sleep cry
But put on a smile in the street
Now I've had to say my good-bye
You have gone to a new far height
Somewhere up in God's awesome sky
Now I have to stand alone, right?
And now challenged in the dark night
Beautiful witch was annoyed by her husband one day
To protect his identity, we will just call him Gray
She cast a spell and turned him into a loathsome toad.
Somehow, this story just never gets old.
Sitting on the deck looking down upon the creek
There's ripples on the surface, the water's running free
The rays of early sunshine, shimmering through the trees
My beautiful six year old granddaughter is perched upon my knees
The breeze is blowing gently and ruffling up the leaves
The leaves are gently falling, filling up the gutters attached upon the eaves
Yellow blossom full of nectar, attracting many bees
Be aware of sight, the sound and smell, the senses, these are the keys
Nature so magnificent without ever asking. it will surely please
Lush geranium proud and glorious.
Blooms so gracefully in old clay pot.
without a tinge of shame.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Old Times
Sometimes walking can be a journey into the past
Sometimes, but always, this is a lifestyle
Hmm. Take a walk in a cemetery?
Yes. Switched off the present
Old gravestones are glittering
Beautiful music is heard
Calling another life
The passed souls are
dancing from their lives
Happy people live in the past
Switched off my present
I stay with them
I live there
Stay
The past
“A beautiful car is something to be adored and if possible, restored in later years
to its former beauty. Some of your best memories it keeps.” by poet
There is a very old decrepit car.
She was my father’s “baby” long ago.
Named Jaguar D – like a Superstar -
she cruised downtown with a polished glow.
The young kids oohed and ahhed when she went by.
Unwanted now – she sits in Grandpa’s field
like a pet (once adored) left out to die.
She’s rusted and busted; her window shield
is shattered, and I bet bees made a hive
inside her engine, for her hood is raised.
Why couldn't she have been restored to thrive
and as an antique, she could have been praised.
Out to pasture is her degradation;
to be towed and crushed: her destination.
Why do we call the good old days,
good?
Grandma was always talking,
talking about the days that had passed.
I wonder if they were really that good,
or does our mind play a trick on us?
Grandma loved sitting on her porch,
looking out over her land in her rocking chair.
Now the old rustic white fence,
is falling down from the last storm.
Her once beautiful flowers are all dead,
dead just like her.
"By the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find,"
sits an old tan and orange alley cat.
Oh how she loved to feed her stray cats,
then play with their furry kittens.
Will the squeaky old gate find a new tomorrow,
or be torn down and rebuilt with cement?
It is a beautiful spring day,
birds are singing their little hearts out.
I am rocking in my favorite rocking chair,
as a cool breeze covers me like a blanket.
What could get better than this,
I ask - as I sit and ponder?
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
with many thoughts.
Thoughts are running wild,
like the river meandering around each rock.
About days of old and how it was,
days that are gone forever.
Guess we cannot get time back,
a river cannot get its water back once it's down stream.
Just like the river meandering away,
we are both stuck here in the present.
Oh how my mind looks to years past,
longing for the good old days.
I drift off to sleep,
As I walk to the beach,
I see the glow of the moon.
What a beautiful sight,
When I dream in this lonely old room.
This room of white,
Not a soul nearby,
Only nurses who roam the halls.
This room of white,
Almost like a tomb.
Oh, my dreams,
The place I yearn for,
My true love is Italy.
Yet I look out the window, and
All I see is the doom.
I'm still here,
But maybe soon,
I'll be outside the cafe,
In the old country, we call Italy.
The place I've always dreamed of going,
So, meet me at high noon,
I'll save you a seat.
This is what I dream of,
In this lonely old room.
The irony of life and love,
tricks played on trusting souls
by a heartless prankster.
I didn't even know what I didn't know.
I longed to play the music of your heart and body
with magical, skillful hands.
Youth, full of vigor, bluster.
Heads full of air, light as eagles feathers
and just as beautiful.
The hoary head has earned wisdom.
Now that I understand this game,
I sit alone with no one to play with.
No teeth to instill fear
nor smile that brings butterflies.
Finally, seeing perfectly,
we can't command the stage
but must give over to the air heads,
the collective "us" of the past.
Awe...age. Hearty-har-har.
I dreamt about an old Victorian house that was abandoned
It was dilapidated and left vacant for years and was starting to decay
It was hidden down a long dirt driveway aligned with overgrown lilac trees
The grounds were overgrown grass that resembled a field of wildflowers
I decided to look inside, the front door was unlocked, and I let myself in
I entered a beautiful parlor with floor to ceiling bookcases and wingback chairs
Sticking out was a rare Charles Dicken's book, I took it and sat in a chair to read
I fell asleep until I awakened in my bed as I noticed the rare book in my hand
Where did the book come from, was I really in that old Victorian house?
As the night fell on a world who keeps turning
joyous thoughts remind my heart of what’s coming
pretty lights, paper and presents, I’m learning
beautiful spirit who’s clearly forthcoming
twilight reflects how heart and soul are yearning
this music who abides is purely numbing
when I pray, evoke the light that is glowing
Pouring wonder from a heart, gently flowing
As moments fade, I welcome the coming year
time for exciting dreams to be brought to life
snow brushes my breath, washing away my fear
vowing, as I reflect, there’s an end to strife
come what may, hope will silence my every tear
sweet dreams so thick, you can’t cut them with a knife
this is the time my heart races and decides
Whatever comes, love brings wisdom who provides