Nostalgia Rhyme Poems

Send me a pillow that you dream on, standing on the corner in a tuxedo suit
Dean Martin is a hero, and a singer to boot
Memories...

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The Ferris wheel, a spoked and sputtering crown,
Pinned back the velvet dark. We paid our fee
In crumpled bills, bought passage to the town
Where gravity forgot...

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Before technology, to find
A number, you would look
In a pretty big directory 
Of names bound in a book.

There were two types - the yellow pages...

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the fast food ad from 1942 made me chuckle as a wife
featured a thin woman who probably never ate meat in her life
Surrounded by all...

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In the sixties every single Friday evening was TV fright night
We preteens sat in front of the screen with friends, terrified all right
What we saw...

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We used to play red rover red rover send NAME right over.
Send Billy, he’s frilly, his skin’s white as vanilly.
Send Jackie, she’s whacky, let’s give...

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I squeeze my eyelids narrow as I follow east
The scarlet rays of dawn loom like a crouching beast
That watches with a hunger neither harsh nor...

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Laying in a hammock
Swaying back and forth
Reminiscing long gone fun
Remembering what was done.
Sitting on a swing
Poised above the ground
In your eyes are tears
About all the...

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Mentally we rummage through
Our trashcans of the past
Viewing what was worthless
When in that trash were cast:

A milestone magazine we see in there
Worth thousands in “green...

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POSTERITY©


Long ago and far away
We never thought we’d reach today

Living long we never dreamed
Could ever be as we had deemed

But here we stand hand-in-hand
It’s nothing...

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Memories
of Formica
kitchens
And 2-burner
Hotpoint 
stoves
Lipstick on
a menthol
butt
Costume
pearls
in rows
Perfume
from the
five and dime
Drive In’s
on the 
field
A promise
made
a promise kept
And 
love
— that time can’t steal

(Listening To Patsy Cline: July...

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Many paths lead away from home
but only one leads back
as the years sit salted upon the rack
you find the path home has narrowed and 
turned...

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I wonder how it truly feels to be loved.

Is it like the minutes before the sun rises,
 when it begins to shine so bright,
 and...

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Its breaking....
Under sea.
Underneath,
I lost all feeling,
Do fish not feel
the rod piercing?

Sometimes
I was too
Vulnerable
breakable
fragile
young
small
tiny,
me.

I'm getting tired
I'm too weary
to surface.

Resilience,
is not a word
but a death
sentence
of irony plates
I...

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A museum filled with Bobbleheads
Is not your average art,
Although that precisely is the thing
That makes it stand apart.

What started with a giveaway
To baseball fans has...

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