Here is a list of Nostalgia Poems ordered by Most Commented, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Downhill
Down down downhill
Spinning spinning tricycle wheels
Jumping houses, jumping trees
Brakes somewhere out of reach
Carried by breeze like a free flying witch
Down down down the hill
Spinning spinning spinning wheels
That felt like it lasted forever maybe...
A miracle happened I could not foresee
My father was there to grab hold of me
Spinning spinning tricycle wheels
Jumping houses, jumping trees
Brakes somewhere out of reach
Carried by breeze like a free flying witch
Down down down the hill
Spinning spinning spinning wheels
That felt like it lasted forever maybe...
A miracle happened I could not foresee
My father was there to grab hold of me
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2019
About this poem:
Reflecting on my first terrifying and thrilling downhill ride
the girl in the wave
on a spring time morn
was wonder born
a strange fluke cut
the sky
from eddied hair
a magic stare
told me that truth
can't lie
a girl who smiled
from a face so wild
my breath did leave
my mind
I somehow knew
that girl was you
and to nature
I was blind
in a wheelhouse stark
both bright and dark
her eyes they light
the way
a rippling whirl
midst seas that churn
all darkness
ran astray
my nets that trawl
her song and call
a creature
made of prayer
you can take my life
my boat my knife
but she
is always there
on a spring tide morn
her currents warm
I never
saw her more
yet I heard her song
all coast along
the inlets
speak her name
was wonder born
a strange fluke cut
the sky
from eddied hair
a magic stare
told me that truth
can't lie
a girl who smiled
from a face so wild
my breath did leave
my mind
I somehow knew
that girl was you
and to nature
I was blind
in a wheelhouse stark
both bright and dark
her eyes they light
the way
a rippling whirl
midst seas that churn
all darkness
ran astray
my nets that trawl
her song and call
a creature
made of prayer
you can take my life
my boat my knife
but she
is always there
on a spring tide morn
her currents warm
I never
saw her more
yet I heard her song
all coast along
the inlets
speak her name
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2019
Post Comment
online now!Carla - "Free Spins"
About a year ago I was stood up
I thought I had a date, and all was fine.
I'd gone to Bradbury Pub I had up cups
To meet a girl I thought who would be mine
For a date that night - when do I have enough?
Or was I just another man in line?
Though I've had enough of Plenty of Fish*
Easy to meet on there? oh how I wish!
The night was chill - the middle of the winter
I was drawn away from my nice warm hearth.
When the girl didn't show - t'was like a splinter
Had been driven right into my open heart.
T'was a tavern where I'd gone to meet her
So in this tavern is where my story starts.
The pub (as I've noted) was in Bradbury
A nice suburban place for company.
Saturday night;- the inn was rather crowded
(The usual crowd in outer suburbia).
On this dark night, the suburb now enshrouded,
While within were patrons - some the worse for wear.
With each beer, my mind became more clouded
Two hours had almost past - where was she - where?
Well maybe some other lucky man has scored
(I was thinking) as I looked up at the tote board.
Saturday night trots- they were at Menangle
The pub (as most do) had a TAB.
I hadn't come to bet;- the odds to wrangle
(And all I wanted was some company).
I hadn't planned, with the tote to tangle
(Though it seem'd there was a horse there just for me).
Well-performed;- a real strong "son of a gun"
I couldn't believe it said "fifteen to one".
Well, I had bought two hundred dollars with me
Enough (I thought) for a taxi, and some drinks
Though now it seemed, there wouldn't be a lady
So I'll have a bet and then leave (methinks).
Well, the horse strode clear - and won - it was pay day
(To me this horse was just as good as Winx).^
With ten each way, I'd won two hundred dollars
So who needs thoroughbreds,- and Chris Wallers?
Two hundred that I'd bought was now one fifty
(That's give or take seven or eight cold beers)
And with two hundred won, was now three fifty
I collected at the tote, and told them "cheers".
Well now I'm pissed, and thinking kinda shifty
I throw caution to the wind and lose my fears
And did something I'd rarely do when sober
That's play the "slots" and turn the money over.
Americans call 'em slots - that's our pokies
And I (for one) wouldn't recommend to you
This mode of gaming I'd call "hokey pokey"
(Put your money in;- and you're mostly screwed).
You think you're gonna win? Well, are you joking?
(Your currency, it slips fast out of view).
Electronic farce, and tricks,- deceit and lies
They'll steal the pennies from your granny's eyes.
I guess I played that night 'cause I was miffed
Being lured all that way to the boondocks.
Being left all alone, and being stiffed
It serves me right for thinking with my c*ck.
My mood was low, and wouldn't seem to lift
(I expected the machine'd take all I've got).
When suddenly that slot began to feature
Well, ain't Lady Luck a funny creature?
To cut the story short, I won two thousand!
And decided to take the money, there,- and run.
I collected the fat wad which I trousered
Then thought I might go out and buy some fun.
Hailing a taxi cab (which I then ordered)
"Take me to the House of the Rising Sun
Well Aussie cabs are silver, and not yellow
And by the Rising Sun- I mean Bordello.
The house of ill repute,- of which I speak
Was one a fair distance from my home
I'll not "name names",- and though the flesh is weak
It's better than going home pissed and alone.
Once inside I felt as must feel a sheik
Being pampered in a room of one's own
A private room,- if only for one hour
The lady's name was "Carla"- a sweet flower.
The flower of which I speak, was from Asia
Her English not so good;- It didn't matter
When tasting all the forms of love's fantasia
One doesn't ask for elocution's chatter
Well, there's no more room now, on the page here
For me to go, and further tell of Carla
Beautiful? Yes - though a lady of the night
I'd been stood up - though it turned out alright
I thought I had a date, and all was fine.
I'd gone to Bradbury Pub I had up cups
To meet a girl I thought who would be mine
For a date that night - when do I have enough?
Or was I just another man in line?
Though I've had enough of Plenty of Fish*
Easy to meet on there? oh how I wish!
The night was chill - the middle of the winter
I was drawn away from my nice warm hearth.
When the girl didn't show - t'was like a splinter
Had been driven right into my open heart.
T'was a tavern where I'd gone to meet her
So in this tavern is where my story starts.
The pub (as I've noted) was in Bradbury
A nice suburban place for company.
Saturday night;- the inn was rather crowded
(The usual crowd in outer suburbia).
On this dark night, the suburb now enshrouded,
While within were patrons - some the worse for wear.
With each beer, my mind became more clouded
Two hours had almost past - where was she - where?
Well maybe some other lucky man has scored
(I was thinking) as I looked up at the tote board.
Saturday night trots- they were at Menangle
The pub (as most do) had a TAB.
I hadn't come to bet;- the odds to wrangle
(And all I wanted was some company).
I hadn't planned, with the tote to tangle
(Though it seem'd there was a horse there just for me).
Well-performed;- a real strong "son of a gun"
I couldn't believe it said "fifteen to one".
Well, I had bought two hundred dollars with me
Enough (I thought) for a taxi, and some drinks
Though now it seemed, there wouldn't be a lady
So I'll have a bet and then leave (methinks).
Well, the horse strode clear - and won - it was pay day
(To me this horse was just as good as Winx).^
With ten each way, I'd won two hundred dollars
So who needs thoroughbreds,- and Chris Wallers?
Two hundred that I'd bought was now one fifty
(That's give or take seven or eight cold beers)
And with two hundred won, was now three fifty
I collected at the tote, and told them "cheers".
Well now I'm pissed, and thinking kinda shifty
I throw caution to the wind and lose my fears
And did something I'd rarely do when sober
That's play the "slots" and turn the money over.
Americans call 'em slots - that's our pokies
And I (for one) wouldn't recommend to you
This mode of gaming I'd call "hokey pokey"
(Put your money in;- and you're mostly screwed).
You think you're gonna win? Well, are you joking?
(Your currency, it slips fast out of view).
Electronic farce, and tricks,- deceit and lies
They'll steal the pennies from your granny's eyes.
I guess I played that night 'cause I was miffed
Being lured all that way to the boondocks.
Being left all alone, and being stiffed
It serves me right for thinking with my c*ck.
My mood was low, and wouldn't seem to lift
(I expected the machine'd take all I've got).
When suddenly that slot began to feature
Well, ain't Lady Luck a funny creature?
To cut the story short, I won two thousand!
And decided to take the money, there,- and run.
I collected the fat wad which I trousered
Then thought I might go out and buy some fun.
Hailing a taxi cab (which I then ordered)
"Take me to the House of the Rising Sun
Well Aussie cabs are silver, and not yellow
And by the Rising Sun- I mean Bordello.
The house of ill repute,- of which I speak
Was one a fair distance from my home
I'll not "name names",- and though the flesh is weak
It's better than going home pissed and alone.
Once inside I felt as must feel a sheik
Being pampered in a room of one's own
A private room,- if only for one hour
The lady's name was "Carla"- a sweet flower.
The flower of which I speak, was from Asia
Her English not so good;- It didn't matter
When tasting all the forms of love's fantasia
One doesn't ask for elocution's chatter
Well, there's no more room now, on the page here
For me to go, and further tell of Carla
Beautiful? Yes - though a lady of the night
I'd been stood up - though it turned out alright
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2017
About this poem:
* The popular dating website.** An outer South West Sydney suburb.
*** An outer South West Sydney (semi rural) suburb.
**** TAB (Totalisator Agency Board) betting shop.
***** Winx - very famous Australian racehorse.
****** Trainer of Winx
******* Poker Machines
^ Just sticking up for the trots (harness races). I would never run down Winx, who is undeniably the World's Best Racehorse.
(What I mean, in the context of this poem, is that Winx is just so incredibly good, that she always starts at short odds; and is therefore not a viable betting proposition).
(Comment added 5/11/18).
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
No Going Back
A decade of love... much hope and adventure
A decade of "why's"... great sorrow... much fears
The Rock in the Forrest...this time no Inscription
Where once it promoted more than a few tears
I prayed for a sign in this Holy of Holy's
Not long... it was clear there was something amiss
To-day no birds chorus to complete the illusion
Bade Adieu to the Rock with finality... kiss!
"Its not over 'til its over...and not 'til the Fat Lady sings"
The curtain comes down She has sung with deep feeling...
"A Robin can't fly on one wing"
A decade of "why's"... great sorrow... much fears
The Rock in the Forrest...this time no Inscription
Where once it promoted more than a few tears
I prayed for a sign in this Holy of Holy's
Not long... it was clear there was something amiss
To-day no birds chorus to complete the illusion
Bade Adieu to the Rock with finality... kiss!
"Its not over 'til its over...and not 'til the Fat Lady sings"
The curtain comes down She has sung with deep feeling...
"A Robin can't fly on one wing"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2013
About this poem:
In the main, Love, Life & Hope and finality...and a few other things!
Mr Whippy 1967
That music!
I waited with much glee
the ice cream truck
music playing
It came to me!
my coins so sweated
in my hand
just one dollop
for me
in my hand
no double ice cream for me
no matter
Here it was
a pyramid of glee
I saved enough for chocolate coated
wind and rain
smelling gumboots
shivering duly noted
MR Whippy man
Mind that child
a way to learn
I wait patiently
for my turn
I waited with much glee
the ice cream truck
music playing
It came to me!
my coins so sweated
in my hand
just one dollop
for me
in my hand
no double ice cream for me
no matter
Here it was
a pyramid of glee
I saved enough for chocolate coated
wind and rain
smelling gumboots
shivering duly noted
MR Whippy man
Mind that child
a way to learn
I wait patiently
for my turn
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2013
About this poem:
The ice cream truck.
This Old House
The old house had seen better days
Times when all the rooms were full
laughter traveling through the air
times of glee, pranks and joyfulness
Now it looks so sad and in need of repair
sagging porch, cracked window panes
the paint peeling, all drab and bare
missing tiles letting in the elements
The man stood looking and pondering
caught up in the memories of long ago
taking out his phone, he calls for help
a reprieve for this old house he gives
Soon the builders start sorting things out
first a brand new roof of gleaming tiles
the porch rebuilt and all gets a new coat
once again the old house returns to life
Times when all the rooms were full
laughter traveling through the air
times of glee, pranks and joyfulness
Now it looks so sad and in need of repair
sagging porch, cracked window panes
the paint peeling, all drab and bare
missing tiles letting in the elements
The man stood looking and pondering
caught up in the memories of long ago
taking out his phone, he calls for help
a reprieve for this old house he gives
Soon the builders start sorting things out
first a brand new roof of gleaming tiles
the porch rebuilt and all gets a new coat
once again the old house returns to life
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2013
Post Comment
online today!Her Portrait
Memories captured in an old parlor portrait
Immortality found a beautiful face
Swirling brushstrokes from a Master’s palette
For everywhere you look is divine grace
Crowning statement of love and devotion
Carefully framed gilded ornate plaster
Beauty the subject of much commotion
With much respect still given the Master
Such as the fine details found in her eyes
The still subtle shades of light through her hair
Features as fresh as the day its paint dries
Anything made today even compare
Esoteric beauty still shines our souls
More meaningful than all the ancient scrolls
Immortality found a beautiful face
Swirling brushstrokes from a Master’s palette
For everywhere you look is divine grace
Crowning statement of love and devotion
Carefully framed gilded ornate plaster
Beauty the subject of much commotion
With much respect still given the Master
Such as the fine details found in her eyes
The still subtle shades of light through her hair
Features as fresh as the day its paint dries
Anything made today even compare
Esoteric beauty still shines our souls
More meaningful than all the ancient scrolls
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2013
About this poem:
A sonnet about an old family portrait painted long time ago of a very beautiful woman whom I still share feelings for.A Fine Epitaph
Ever noticed that as you fight
claw your way through life
that as soon as you overcome
one adversary another two spring up
all of your life is a fight
you fight your way through
from the time of birth
until that very final end
its how we face each challenge
how we cope from day to day
that defines who we are
makes us either saint or sinner
I think you know you have done
as much as you can to live well
when at the very end people
say this was a person who tried
to always give their best
someone that helped others
before they helped themselves
this would be a fine epitaph
claw your way through life
that as soon as you overcome
one adversary another two spring up
all of your life is a fight
you fight your way through
from the time of birth
until that very final end
its how we face each challenge
how we cope from day to day
that defines who we are
makes us either saint or sinner
I think you know you have done
as much as you can to live well
when at the very end people
say this was a person who tried
to always give their best
someone that helped others
before they helped themselves
this would be a fine epitaph
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2013
About this poem:
life's struggle
Handsome Man Club
After many a drink
in some far away pub
I once or twice fancied
joining a handsome man club...
Hmm it first seemed a plan
the only prerequisite
that one be a handsome man...
Realizing error or room for reasonable doubt
or possessing picture proof to show
that I could very well be left out
after gazing in foggy hanging bedroom mirror...
Seeing no dashing movie star look
thinking my name will never be found
in some shady Hollywood agents address book...
After coming down to cold sobering reality
perhaps even calling this absurd idea a day
my love hugged and whispered to humble me
she would always love me unconditionally anyway...
Even if I am some wild weed or flowery shrub
I was her forever lover and eternal best friend
that I didn't have to be in any handsome man club..
in some far away pub
I once or twice fancied
joining a handsome man club...
Hmm it first seemed a plan
the only prerequisite
that one be a handsome man...
Realizing error or room for reasonable doubt
or possessing picture proof to show
that I could very well be left out
after gazing in foggy hanging bedroom mirror...
Seeing no dashing movie star look
thinking my name will never be found
in some shady Hollywood agents address book...
After coming down to cold sobering reality
perhaps even calling this absurd idea a day
my love hugged and whispered to humble me
she would always love me unconditionally anyway...
Even if I am some wild weed or flowery shrub
I was her forever lover and eternal best friend
that I didn't have to be in any handsome man club..
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2013
About this poem:
Bit of humor..treasures
They roam the hills and the valleys of our years these treasures of our lives and of our peers. They flow like gentle music throu our busey days,and rage like torrents of rain altering our stubborn ways. They mellow our aging,bring memories we hold dear; and wiser mold our thoughts while we are here. Treasures: yes, they are many; they are finer then gold.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2014
About this poem:
no matter how ump-teen years of old there is in our lives the memories we gather along the way are what makes us wholePoems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
This is a list of poems submitted by CS members. Click 'Details' tab to see all poems, or click on a poem title to view and comment on individual poems. Click headings to sort by comments or views.
Would YOU like to post a poem in the Poet's Corner? Have you written poetry that you'd like to share with other members? Posting your poetry shows your skill and creativity and helps members get to know you better. Your poem will appear on the Connecting Singles Poetry page and also in a link on your profile page.
Click here to publish your poetry »