Share our big happies,
You are best of chappies,
Having spirited love,
Blesses our daily dove....
Laughing fun smiles,
Your charm still beguiles,
Trade future today,
In our favourite way....
Yes, happy dance,
Always our romance,
Blissful love haze,
Happy good old days!
Bouncing off a trampoline
Anton Dvorak fell on his head ~
A ‘cancelled Czech’
Poor Anton was dead
Long ago, in the 1600’s
Native Americans were not so financial...
Sold Manhattan for 24 bucks
A transaction they wish they could cancel
What I miss
What I miss, I miss me,
It is not like I am not happy,
I am happy as a wife.
But I miss being myself, I miss being me.
I miss the boldness I was once,
I miss the zest I once had.
I miss the life of freedom I once lived.
I miss being the boss of my life.
I miss being that vivacious lassie.
I miss the life where I asked no permission.
I miss the life where I make my own decisions.
It's just that I miss being me, I miss myself.
Regard " Those Good Old Days?'
Bring smiles in own ways,
Writing a book, Any Excuse,
Need my GSOH a'loose.
Went to football in past stage,
Good book, turn each page,
"The umpire's a cheat!"
"Yep, our goals incomplete!"
"Game plan's still the same!"
"Yes, our coach is to blame!"
"Let's go home!"
"Yeah, home we'll roam!"
"Leaving already?" Crowd roar,
"Spit the dummy, game's a bore!"
"See you next week!"
"At next game we'll peek,
Smiling now, I hit the sack,
Ignore football, top lifehack,
Well, that was a long book,
"Those Good Old Days, worth a sook!
We lived happily beneath thatched roofs
Feasting merrily on simple fare
Dressed in familiar, humble garb
At peace in our unrefined ways.
Oh, how I miss those old days
When we walked miles just for fun
Telling tales of old, one by one—
How beautiful they were, those old days.
Our leaders were sources of inspiration
Not objects of disdain and abomination
Praised for their kindness and bravery
Not glorified for their folly and thievery.
Those old days
When the wind whispered to those who listened
And the sun brightened the vision of the blind—
Those were the golden times: the good old days.
Then, the Good Old Days
Better than what’s now, always
This law, all obeys
When, in good times past
Bygones better, Everlast
Nows always surpassed
And, back further still
Even better then, until
The best be all's it’ll
But, this trend is woe
Each past better than then's now
Life keeps getting worse
‘Till, the Now-a-Days
At the bottom of the hill
Things aren't looking up
No, they’re not and won’t
All generations to come
The next Kids Today
Spending a day making donuts with Grandma
I am yet to have the good old days
It has just been just wishes of death
To give me one big rest
When I have money
I am way too drunk
When I am poor
I am way too sad
In the Good Old Days
I had dreams of the better days
Tommorrow never came
Today never set
yesterday never stayed.
I hope these are not my good old days
I am still on my old ways
Getting lost in my dreams
I cant find a real place
If it downhill from here
Id rather death steaal me away
Nothing rivaled the lemonade in Georgia.
Now, you could also find some damn good lemonade in the neighboring state of South Carolina. Virginians liked to think they too made fine lemonade, and it was better than anything north of the Potomac.
But the best was in Georgia.
And people in the good old days really did drink their lemonade on a lazy, late summer afternoon on the front porch of their wooden house as their kindly old dog, usually a Labrador or a golden retriever, lay down by their feet.
It happened exactly like that.
Just the way you’ve always pictured it.
The boys at the school were constipated
So the nurse lined them up and gave them cod liver oil
Some tried to escape, but she was mighty
And she had nurse’s aides who dragged them back by their ears
The good old days when you could do such things
High is the humidity,
Unpredictable like the economy.
I watch the once grassland begone into the tummies of the rigid structures.
Waiting for the rain.
The world is quite fast
Not wanting to take a rest.
They said there would be rest,
All I see are hamsters,
Running the wheel of progression.
Young and old alike.
Wonderful were the days
When the old brother played in the fields.
The race of life has driven the wheel.
Quiet is the silence,not wanting to acknowledge.
All I see is,are the sins of the past.
Regrets may have been lead to growth,
Not the hearted gold.
Words can be written,
In the slate of the grave,
Or in the notes of the piano.
It isn't lonely when the reaper is here,
But the vale of the rail.
When the young lied,
It broke the strings,
None at fault,not at all.
Laughters can be seen,
If the check is played right.
Value can be rewritten once the one is no longer.
It can be a bit harsh
To forget the beloved,
The wheels are cog for the watch,
Spinning forever and will be lost in time.
Strings can be knitted,
But not connected.
It's not that much,
To accept the deed
And move on.
Whatever happened to the good old days,
when your phone would ring
and people called, just to say hello.
When the days seemed longer
and the work hours shorter ,
when laughter was heard from your neighbors
porch and there was always coffee on;
Whatever happened to the good old days,
when children would play outdoors
and we always made time for each other.
Let’s bring back those “Good old days”
Claim it’s for the best
Give everyone a washing bin
Lye soap and scrubbing board
Hang the clothes on a ‘clothes line”
Outside to let them dry
Bring back the “in ground” compost bin
Metal cans of un-bagged trash
Leave the mice and rats alone
They have a “lobby” of their own
Buy your groceries every day
In bags for which you have to pay
You’ll be in bed by ten at night
Cuz that’s when they’ll turn out the lights
So go ahead, I dare ya, Tweet it
They serve us CROW knowing we’ll eat it
John g. Lawless
©5/10/2023
What happened to those days of old
when life was simple- tried to hold
a clearer grasp of right or wrong-
with outlined paths to move along?
Of goals created to live by
with aims to lift us up to fly
without restrictions to impede
the search for honor in each deed?
More complex now are blinding roads
that lead to choices with no codes;
old fashioned rulings cast away
by some who say they're in the way.
In days of old, more freedom rang;
for true, free speech and choice we sang.
Now backward steps reverse that course;
our Founding Fathers- in remorse.
If only we could merge the two-
fine yesterdays- some current, too;
entwine those best that feed the soul-
and keep our human spirit whole.
May 3, 2023
Contest: Couplet Poetry
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
RZ HMS
From side to side;
the smile of the morning sun,
and the cool of the midnight moon,
amidst the sparky stars.
I grin like a Cheshire cat.
as I seat underneath Divinity’s love for the globe;
the Soft breezes blow from odorous meadows
I get filled up with
nostalgic memories,
Oh! the good old days.
my dark brown eyes,
the dark youthful skin,
my frizzy youthful hair.
Everything retreated from me.
Oh! the good sweet old days,
Am now ancient,
My never ending epistemophilia and
wish to give the young people optimism.
my adaptability be exhume,
and live among the folk.
Change cannot be paused,
it’s an automatic,
it needs not your consent to transpire.
Wreathed in smiles,
about my then and now;
I go to slumber like
a bird singing on the tree.
I’ve tasted of life’s sweet wine.
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