Short Days Of Yore Poems

Lombada painted&poetized
well deserved her high fives
Famed as a troubadour
years ago in days of yore...

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George Orwell famed for Animal Farm
loved gardening to keep him calm
So he wrote his satire 1984
the year passed,& became days of yore...

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It's another year, hope it's a good one
And it brings you happiness and good fortune
With friends galore
Like days of yore
With winter weather a whole lot shorter...

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Long long ago in the days of yore
Lived a gorgeous filly, made young studs roar
Was scantily clad
Delighting each lad
Also makes this old duffer writhe on the floor...

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“Are you expecting?”, expecting what I say
A courier package or perhaps a brand new sleigh 
A sleigh Santa wishes for
Fly like in days of yore
Spend time with the naughties romping in the hay...

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Long long ago in the days of yore
Lived a gorgeous filly, made the young studs roar
Was scantily clad
Delighting each lad
Just writing about her makes me writhe on the floor


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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a wedding
      anniversary
of decades
         departed

days of yore
        that are no more
& yet
      as precious
                   still
as dust
    upon
        a butterfly's wings*



*a Hemingway phrase...

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Lurking around each corner 
Waiting to blanket 
   Hopes
   Dreams 
   Desires 
Ready to squander 
   Love 
   Goals
   Lust 
Reckless and ruthless 
Heed those days of yore 
Always at hand


- Caroline Youngless 

05/14/2021...

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Olden knowledge should smolder
As smoke rising from an ember -
Universal but not common -
Peculiar but not forgotten.
Tell me of those days of yore -
Of circumstances transpired -
So I can repeat on my lips
That which slumbers in silence....

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Old man dancing
Doing the soft shoe
As in days of yore!
Dancing with a shadow partner...
Reminiscence of glad times.
See him smile -
So what if he stumbles!
Soft shoe
Whirling to forgotten memories...
Court jester for the crowd!

Cynthia...

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Perfectly formed in a challenging terrain,
low and squat they lie and ever-ready
to shrug off Hebridean wind and rain
with weathered roofs and walls rock-steady.
In days of yore, a refuge from the storm,
now picturesque, and just a bit forlorn....

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Perfectly formed in a challenging terrain,
low and squat they lie and ever ready
to shrug off Hebridean wind and rain,
with weathered roofs and walls rock steady.
In days of yore, a refuge from the storm,
now picturesque, and just a bit forlorn....

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Four Score and Many Years Before 

There came about a No Toys Law

Burgermeister was the One , Who Oversaw 

This Decree led to Lots of Gore


Until One Man Stepped To The Fore

His Name is Known Since The Days Of Yore

This is the Story Of- Santy Claus...

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 Lost in a world
I try so hard
to remember these days
the days (of yore) we're together

Lost in an open Place
you know they're never coming back
never coming back

Alone now
So Alone now
we're Alone now
Done and Gone
I'm Alone
You're leaving
...

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"carry that weight"


in days of yore

mine not yours

in those mid
evil times a

woman
such as
yourself

accused

would be
made
to

enter water

not bothering
whether she
could swim

because to
sink meant

she was
happily
not a

witch...

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Where have they gone, all those great days of yore
When we used to meet down by the sea shore,
Those high clouds above, just drifting away,
The smell of the sea, the gulls at their play.
Why do some think that that was a bore?
Maybe they've never done that before!...

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Milky moon on earth is peeping
By the mountain whitish pane
Gusts of wind with icy kisses
Rattle people in the train
Pines birches laden laden
Shivering in the village lane

In the snowy nights of winter
Thousand yarns of days of yore
To the lady wind they whisper...

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The question, “are you expecting?”... expecting what, I say
A UPS parcel or perhaps a brand new sleigh, 
A sleigh is what Santa wishes for
To fly like in the old days of yore
To spend time with the naughty girls romping for hours in the hay


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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It was during days of yore, 
       when I was divine,
beaming and bright with rapture,
                    making splendor mine-
Elegant with lure,
combined beauty with appeal,
          exquisite and pure.


SEGUIDILLA - Poetry Contest 
www.howmanysyllables.com
September 14, 2017...

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When the willows weep no more
memories will fall to those days of yore
to whom shall stand beneath that tree
will speak sadly of the leaves that flee.

Those that fell into the pond below
will float awhile then on with the flow
a sad time for those trees so bare
no more tears from the willows pair...

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I have ascended so much more, but have not forgotten my childhood lore,
A vivacious essence with each opening door, oh how I long for those days of yore,
A sepentine of fields and roads where once we'd capture fireflies and toads,
A leisure in our life as we then did dally when all was good and we knew not sally....

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this flurry of snow whirls
to me days of yore when

absorbed in playing 
with a world of White
 
blissfully forgetting 
the toll of 
freezing hands and icy toes
in the heat of 
shiny eyes and cheeks aglow  
 
in the midst of a laugh
we caught the flakes  

on our tongues to taste
the promise of Christmas...

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In lengthened shadows of time
         Echoes sound of lost words chime
      Waves of forgotten sunrays
         Poured on my disarrayed days
  
        Time that had taste of old name
      Chime gliding through inert game
        Sunrays seived unfolded thoughts
     Days of yore dance in blue dots

   28/03/2019...

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Agony does in my heart reside 
Mostly due to my foolish pride
In these days whence to come 
The jubilation of my dearest one
Who by my side never stood
But through my love often could
Gone from me this love of mine
Forever banished to the void of time
How I long for her in these days of yore
As she lies delighted on a far off shore...

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PORRIDGE





                                   I’ve put up with it for years   -   how?

It’s been too long, but no more.
My head is sore, it’s such a bore.
She’s been always daily to the fore,
And nightly too with her snore.
Not like our early days of yore.

                             I wonder who’s stirring her porridge now?...

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