Nostalgia Summer Poems

The autumn that had remained monotonous-
  For many decades,
  Now tears and takes pieces of hearts,
  Along with its old leaves, flowers,
...

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- in those moments, it shines.
The nostalgia of an upside down
world glinting up through hourglasses of years,
a mark impressed upon flesh; a scar harbouring
simple childhood...

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Oh, for Summer days of youth
                   ...

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Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep...

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Couched in the season,
by a fireplace ablaze.
The winter with it's snowy soft edges,
tasted bittersweet
-since I reminisced once more
of just how pleasing it was
in the golden...

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Leaves glitter quietly, serene and slumbering,
Beneath the frost’s quick breath.
Amber, gold and mahogany – crisp as the voice of winter
Shadowed by trembling winds of December,
Hopeful...

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 oh, the days! the days I wish I could get back;
 sandwiched between my book of fond memories.
      ...

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The sheets smelled like Summer hanging on the line
The sheets smelled like Summer evoking a simpler time
The sheets smelled like Summer, when time was all...

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Casting my mind back many a year
To childhood days spent catching bees
Those long gone memories do bring a tear
Playing with friends in the summer breeze

A...

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The quiet rustle of the leaves
I am at peace over the seas 
The welcoming and gentle breeze
I’m soaking up the way it feels 

My grandma’s...

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Mother was away, plucking hens
So I got my mead, in the special hip flask
Sat by the fence, just by the green
Time slipped along, Ken joined...

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It’s quite a thing to lay a life to rest,
to place rocks over roots rotten with age,
cover leaves once green with soil, sodden from rain.

Conceived...

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2.

Once,
we picked
blackberries
under the shade
of bay trees fragrant with the kiss of sun,
not yet knowing the things that would break us;
just sweet fruit on
pregnant vines,
childish
joy.


3.

Once,
we picked
blackberries
under...

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Of all the senses, 
they say that smell 
is most closely tied 
to memory;
like Proust with 
his madeleines;
like blackberries 
in July,
in the park where 
my...

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The breeze annoying trees entices me,
I drift away    afar to fields abloom,
with silver tongues untied their whispers free —
..ah, prairie-weed does burn...

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