Nostalgia Sonnet Poems

noon’s furnace: asphalt shimmers; air—thick, slow—
cracks open. cicadas drill through stagnant gold.
a sprinkler’s hiccup-hiss: the pavement’s glow
un/curls in steam. the hydrant’s shout: uncontrolled.

children shriek!—a liquid...

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I lost my shoes each summer, as you should
just placed them in my case and went barefoot
mother said I shouldn’t, aunty said I could
Except for...

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In sepia tones, the echoes twist and sway,
When shadows stalk the moments lost to time,
A spectral dance where ghosts of youth hold sway,
Their laughter mingles...

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My crayon box dreams, I've held in my heart
From when I was young to now when I'm old 
The ones I recall all do hold...

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Behold the shout of “SEA!” where ends the land
  down Manzanilla way on windward shore -
on coconut road, on ribbons of sand
  and...

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O’ Mother!, take me back at last, receive
—(unclasped arms as vast as mine)—my embrace;
this longing, laughing love, the proof and grace
of my abiding for your...

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Remember, long ago, enrapt of Venus,
in college, brought to meet by chance,
how, falling into that first, most fateful glance
a straightaway spark flirted between us?

And, too,...

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Before diving into the time machine for a nostalgic trip on my music video ‘Ring On My Line’ above, I invite you to read my...

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Where tides once gossiped for many an hour
about what lovers share; like grapes gone sour, 
the strong opinions o’ friends will minds devour.

A reputation guarded...

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It seems like yesterday I stood by a field,
Uncle Tom's orchard nearby, abundant and fair.
The sun shone bright, the wind blew slow and yielded,
And trees...

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You see him in photos of black and white,
standing atop logs drawn by big horses,
he wears a thick wool to stay winter’s bite,
almost as this...

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Yesterday's wishes, whispered in the night,
Like fading stars, now lost to morning's light.
Each dream a seed, with hope so brightly sown,
Now withered leaves, upon the...

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The memory hurts but does me no harm.*
If I can get through the day without blame         ...

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In time shadows in an old windy shed
  are names of sojourners who've passed this way;
now my wandering boot does older tread
  where...

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As shadows climb and mingle with the light,
The dying poet reaches for his pen, 
To catch the fleeting image of the night
And phrase a moment’s...

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