Scrapbook Poems - Poems about Scrapbook

Sweet, Caring memories, resurrecting from the, amorous pages of my life. Past seemed so young and exuberant, Behind my wrinkled face and sunken eyes, Only your tender love makes my heart beat, Only your lovely smile keeps me going in life, Knowing one day, you will be gone from my life. Sweet caring memories, resurrecting from the amorous pages of my life....

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Crowd of entertainment, chapeaux and gowns, of Renoirs,** not unlike the expansive midnight sky brimming with stars. Capture of long ago memories, like lightning bugs in jars. Knee deep, flood high - boxes of snapshots…our memoirs. Whimsical caricature of a lifetime - chameleon avatars. Oft’ one changes seasons capriciously, jumping boxcars. Fading into the sun and moon - visible and ultraviolet...

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As the day drifts off to slumber I lay awake to relive the day So many memories in my head Thoughts echoing good & bad My mind begins combing through my scrapbook of memories, a picture book filled with some victories & defeats "Hark! Could that be the voices from those who shared in my joy?" And the laughter...

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Date. Birthday. Remember. Or to forget. Life, it's yours to live. See endless tomorrows. Reflect upon yesterdays. Memories made along the way, live on within a treasured scrapbook. Each page, a moment in time, bittersweet....

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Trees in the foreground, taller in the background Where a brook runs through Sun’s rays captured the morning dew. Whispering pines faintly speak, weeping willows slightly bow Jack O’lanterns sway to and fro White lilacs stir, low winds blow. Meadows spread evenly aside, valleys lie just ahead Stone walls extend side to side, Purple strife borders, buttercups blossom wide. Mountains tickle the skies, jagged...

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Was born To warm Your heart Was smart Head bare No hair Small nose Cute toes Fat pink Small stink Sweetheart I fart Loud cry Goodbye Ma Ma Ba Ba Want tit Good bit I plead You feed I puke Rebuke Bad smell From tail I poop Like soup I pee You flee Breakthrough I grew Like storm Age norm Kid gloves True love 3/22/2017 Contest Name: FABULOUS FUN FOOTLES Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON...

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My mum and I made many scrapbooks over the years. To find inspiring and interesting pictures was not hard And most magazines got past my mothers sense of decorum And her duty to protect me from scantily clad ladies in my formative years. My mother continued scrap booking for many years, as did I. With fond memories to last a...

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As I peered through a familiar book, Nostalgia filled my cup. And although it was one short look, It already revealed what I once boarded up. Your smile blinded me, That soft grin I tried to forget. The moment I felt lost at sea, The first time our eyes ever met. I bumped into you first, I think. Distracted by that foreign thought. Like the...

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Stiff paper letters Purple and lavender shapes careful hands make words...

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Still frames with dead eyed memories. Magic marker’d promises; open ended lies that I can’t seem to forget. No matter how far I bury this thing inside my closet. You always find your way back, with a smile blooming like a drunken rose. Fingers run to the edge of our little world’s grave yard; flipping the nights over.. Trying to find the picture; a...

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His eyes were aglow with a white flame, And it burned away my fears, His hand in mine, He lifted me, His breath dried up my tears. 'Come My child, He spoke gently, All these mysteries shall now be shown!' And opening the book and turning the page, I saw a garden with many flowers grown. Then He took a dried petal, a...

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I drew closer as the angel whispered, 'Come and you shall behold!' I saw a book with an inlaid cover of precious stones, And embossed in purest gold. As he spoke, he turned around, Placing a crystal key within my grasp, And all drew silent as the lock sprang open, And I undid the ivory clasp. I reached inside and gently removed, The book...

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the lives that we touch kissed with memories a reminiscence scrapbook that only I can see snapshots in my mind the color starting to fade edges furled and yellowed blurred images portrayed an album that keeps growing as I journey on life's path happiness, sometimes sorrow when my heart looks back...

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Today I found a dust-ridden journal Its pages were tinted with age The edges rough From the jagged tears The writing faded and worn What is this I thought to myself. As i flicked through the pages So gently Trying so hard to keep the book As a whole I paused My hand froze Eyes gazed I was a statue. Just by finding a picture This Picture I found was A...

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She could have cried into the ravine of its spine, distorted light so sepia seemed greyer, but that would have meant admitting recognition. Her dusty yard knees creeping below the shift of her fidget, and that book; the one she found smoldering in the ruins of her mothers leaving, tucked away behind clothes she didn’t want. “Celluloid consequences,” that’s what father had said as he...

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