As old age upon us descends,
we view the past through rosy lens.
It seems to us that bygone days
were far better in many ways.
The memories of better times
help us cope when life serves up limes.
They give us hope that better days
will soon return, like Dawn’s bright rays.
But dreaming of the good old days
can cause us to live in a daze
and rob us of the good in life
that abounds amidst its strifes.
The good old days had their fair share
of heartache, trouble, strife, and care.
The present times, in many ways,
are better than the good old days.
Treasure the good from bygone days
Let them inform your present ways
So, you can reap the very best,
As you progress in your life quest.
these signs of the times
I see everywhere I walk
I can’t understand
why I’m chased off of the block
why segregated we stand
inspired by Norman Rockwell's “The Problem We All Live With (Ruby Bridges)” 1964. symbolizing the struggle for civil rights and school desegregation in the United States
ran down grassy slopes
looking for bleating lambs
chasing butterflies~
our world buoyant like bubbles
high up, dazzling rainbow hues.
Your access denied.
Tick: I am not a robot.
A system outage,
remember the good old days,
when pen and paper would do.
give me the old days
communication was king
in this day and age
cell phones replace relatives
tvs are never turned off
hand in hand they sew
making quilts for each grandchild
crafty needle work
The sky’s acid blue, and I have an idea
To be approved by you
Let’s catch a cab to Westminster Pier
We'll be standing awhile in a queue
Let’s torment ourselves with a boat ride
Like in the good old days
Watching marinas on riverside
Passing through open gates
Of many locks on the way to Richmond
And as soon as we moor
Let’s visit the Kew and the Hampton Court
That’s what we’re here for
Let’s lunch in the Privy Kitchen café
Then I’ll get lost in the maze
Smiling the silliest smile I’ll pace there
Trying all possible ways
We’ll go for a ride on a horse-drawn carriage
I’ll chat with the coachman of topics
Not so important like Royals marriage
While you’ll be taking some pics
I’ll buy a walnut brandy before we set sail
Back to the Westminster pier
It’ll be quite an outing to repeat that trail
What do you think, my dear?
I take your silence as a sign of consent
I knew you’d accept my plan
There’s just one nuance, that wasn’t meant
Hope you will understand.
.
old days call my name
dust-lit moments drift back home
heart opens like a screen door~
memory walks in warm.
I see that winter has now broken,
steam fills each word, as they are spoken.
Cold air seems to fill the room,
as the stuck in side, brings on its doom.
The land is now covered with snow, and ice,
to go outside, we better think twice.
Slipping and sliding, as we bite the dust,
landing so hard, our rumps we bust.
I haven’t built a snow man, or ridden a sled, in years,
I haven’t had a snow ball fight, being in good cheer.
Now I am old, but I still remember the good times you see,
they will always have their part with me.
Be careful of the snow thats yellow,
cause it belongs to another fellow.
I can still make snow angels,
while I’m flopping around,
might as well do something, instead of laying on the ground.
When I finally, get back up to my feet,
I take two steps, and myself I repeat.
I sure do make a lot of snow angels you see,
once I fall down, the rest is all left to me.
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
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