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.
Gorodok
Oh I wish so much to go back,
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
Time, oh time is spinning snowstorm,
And the neighbors all departed on their way,
And when houses were leveled
You and I, my friend, were joking, no harm made.
Once a year a letter stingy,
Christmas greeting and good wishes,
Live long life.
Eight quiet even lines exactly
In some different handwriting,
And so long!
Oh I wish so much to go back,
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
Now in dreams come to me faces,
Cannot recognize half of them,
Light is bright.
Year passed, I open mail box,
Only two newspapers in it, and no mail.
Oh I wish so much to go back,
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone ...
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
Time, oh time is spinning snowstorm,
And the neighbors all departed on their way,
And when houses were leveled
You and I, my friend, were joking, no harm made.
Once a year a letter stingy,
Christmas greeting and good wishes,
Live long life.
Eight quiet even lines exactly
In some different handwriting,
And so long!
Oh I wish so much to go back,
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
Now in dreams come to me faces,
Cannot recognize half of them,
Light is bright.
Year passed, I open mail box,
Only two newspapers in it, and no mail.
Oh I wish so much to go back,
Oh I wish so much to storm back into town,
In our street of only three house,
Where's so easy, so familiar, for a day.
Where guests come without notice,
Where’s no envy and no malice, dearest home,
Where birth is celebrated
And last tribute’s paid to someone ...
And last tribute’s paid to someone with whole lot.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2014
About this poem:
Lyrics by K.Krastoshevskij, music by Yu. Varum, performed by Anzhelika Varum.'Gorodok' means 'small town' ('gorod' - 'town') in Russian.
You can easily follow the lines while Anzhelika is singing.
Many thanks for your attention!!!
The Price is Right
Come on down!
Your the next contestant on the Price is Right!
First you have to be closest to the actual price without going over
Come up on stage and play a pricing game
Plinko is my favorite
You earn chips by guessing if the price for an item is higher or lower
Then you take your chips and climb up some stairs to the Plinko board
You release a chip and it bounces around on some pegs
Then it lands it slots of 100, 500, 1,000, 10,000, or 0
I play a version of this at the Labor Day picnic in Dickeyville
There you get toys for prizes
Cliffhanger is another favorite of mine
You guess the price of prizes
Then the cliffhanger goes up the mountain for every dollar you are off
You get 25 dollars that you can be off for three items
If you can keep him from falling off after three items
You win the big prize
The clock game is fun too
You have to guess the price of the prize
Then you are told if you are higher or lower than the actual price
If you can get two prices right in less than 30 seconds
You get a cash reward
I miss Bob Barker
Drew Carrey is like Jay Leno
He's nice enough
So is Jimmy Fallon
But just not as good as Johnny Carson or Bob Barker
Your the next contestant on the Price is Right!
First you have to be closest to the actual price without going over
Come up on stage and play a pricing game
Plinko is my favorite
You earn chips by guessing if the price for an item is higher or lower
Then you take your chips and climb up some stairs to the Plinko board
You release a chip and it bounces around on some pegs
Then it lands it slots of 100, 500, 1,000, 10,000, or 0
I play a version of this at the Labor Day picnic in Dickeyville
There you get toys for prizes
Cliffhanger is another favorite of mine
You guess the price of prizes
Then the cliffhanger goes up the mountain for every dollar you are off
You get 25 dollars that you can be off for three items
If you can keep him from falling off after three items
You win the big prize
The clock game is fun too
You have to guess the price of the prize
Then you are told if you are higher or lower than the actual price
If you can get two prices right in less than 30 seconds
You get a cash reward
I miss Bob Barker
Drew Carrey is like Jay Leno
He's nice enough
So is Jimmy Fallon
But just not as good as Johnny Carson or Bob Barker
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2014
About this poem:
Just got the best of the Price is Right on my Netflix. Enjoyed that show a lot over the years.
xmas cheer
Xmas
Turkey
Roasties
And sprouts
Soup to start lots of gravy
Mince pies, oh xmas puds and cream and custard
Coffee and cream ,biscuits and cheese
This the time to be merry
With xmas cheer .I wish you amerry xmas
And
A
Very
Happy
New year 2015
Turkey
Roasties
And sprouts
Soup to start lots of gravy
Mince pies, oh xmas puds and cream and custard
Coffee and cream ,biscuits and cheese
This the time to be merry
With xmas cheer .I wish you amerry xmas
And
A
Very
Happy
New year 2015
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2014
Post CommentMy very first woman in life
My very first woman in life –
I didn’t view her all at once,
I didn't see how petite she was
Until I got somewhat grown up.
She used to take me to museums,
To listen to Colonne orchestra,
Where little fellow man of hers
Pretended he was having fun.
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
My very first woman in life -
One day she took me to the school.
A shiny schoolbag in my grasp,
I had a scarf wrapped all around.
Have met some good and nasty men,
Learned to dot i’s, been bruised in face.
He was sometimes a lonely one -
The second man of the mama.
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
My very first woman in life -
I left her once to be a man.
It’s always morning in the fall -
A time when children leave their nest.
It’s always in a rainy morning,
It’s often for another woman …
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
La première femme de ma vie
La première femme de ma vie
Je ne l'ai pas vu tout de suite
Je n'ai vu qu'elle était petite
Qu'après avoir un peu grandi
Elle m'emmenait dans les musées
Quelques fois au concert Colonne
Où son gentil petit bonhomme
Faisait semblant de s'amuser
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
La première femme de ma vie
Un jour m'a conduit à l'école
Emmitouflé dans un cache-col
Armé d'un cartable verni
J'ai connu les bons, les méchants
Les points sur les i, sur la gueule
Il était quelques fois bien seul
Le deuxième homme de maman
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
La première femme de ma vie
Je l'ai quittée pour être un homme
C'est toujours un matin d'automne
Que les enfants s'en vont du nid
C'est toujours un matin de pluie
C'est souvent pour une autre femme
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
I didn’t view her all at once,
I didn't see how petite she was
Until I got somewhat grown up.
She used to take me to museums,
To listen to Colonne orchestra,
Where little fellow man of hers
Pretended he was having fun.
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
My very first woman in life -
One day she took me to the school.
A shiny schoolbag in my grasp,
I had a scarf wrapped all around.
Have met some good and nasty men,
Learned to dot i’s, been bruised in face.
He was sometimes a lonely one -
The second man of the mama.
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
My very first woman in life -
I left her once to be a man.
It’s always morning in the fall -
A time when children leave their nest.
It’s always in a rainy morning,
It’s often for another woman …
Oh she sang, my mother,
Often sang the songs,
Songs of yesterday,
Sang the songs of past.
La première femme de ma vie
La première femme de ma vie
Je ne l'ai pas vu tout de suite
Je n'ai vu qu'elle était petite
Qu'après avoir un peu grandi
Elle m'emmenait dans les musées
Quelques fois au concert Colonne
Où son gentil petit bonhomme
Faisait semblant de s'amuser
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
La première femme de ma vie
Un jour m'a conduit à l'école
Emmitouflé dans un cache-col
Armé d'un cartable verni
J'ai connu les bons, les méchants
Les points sur les i, sur la gueule
Il était quelques fois bien seul
Le deuxième homme de maman
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
La première femme de ma vie
Je l'ai quittée pour être un homme
C'est toujours un matin d'automne
Que les enfants s'en vont du nid
C'est toujours un matin de pluie
C'est souvent pour une autre femme
Elle chantait ma mère
Elle chantait souvent
Des chansons d'hier
Des chansons d'avant
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2014
About this poem:
Fabuleuse chanson!
It Is Time
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
Just woke up this morning time to start my day
Reaching for my coffee fighting the demons away
It's the memories rolling by, the mind just seems to follow
Robbing me of the day making me feel so hollow
I don't know what to do, it's still all about you
Going through the motions wanting it to change
Yet living here without you seems all to strange
No one sees the pain, no one looks inside
The smile upon my face keeps what I hide
I wish that you were here to wipe away my fear
There's a hand reaching out through this darken life
I want to reach back but I still feel like your wife
I think it is time to fight back and take the chance
Just reach back and leave the rest to circumstance
Or I could walk away and wait another day
The years are rolling by and yet I go on
Time to face the fact I'm tired of being alone
Time to give new memories their own place
Your memories will not be erased
Time to start my day, time to push the sadness away
Just woke up this morning time to start my day
Reaching for my coffee fighting the demons away
It's the memories rolling by, the mind just seems to follow
Robbing me of the day making me feel so hollow
I don't know what to do, it's still all about you
Going through the motions wanting it to change
Yet living here without you seems all to strange
No one sees the pain, no one looks inside
The smile upon my face keeps what I hide
I wish that you were here to wipe away my fear
There's a hand reaching out through this darken life
I want to reach back but I still feel like your wife
I think it is time to fight back and take the chance
Just reach back and leave the rest to circumstance
Or I could walk away and wait another day
The years are rolling by and yet I go on
Time to face the fact I'm tired of being alone
Time to give new memories their own place
Your memories will not be erased
Time to start my day, time to push the sadness away
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2015
Post CommentBeing Irish in America
Being Irish in America
What’s it like being in America
When your heritage is Irish
This country’s a poor replica
Of the far off land you cherish
Grandfather arrived here at eleven
Sorely missing his land of heaven
His parents clung to Irish ways
Living them out all of their days
To keep from deep depression
And their aching hearts to lessen
They needed their Irish expression
Its ironic this experience in the land of many
How each generation tells the stories of old
Filled with rainbows and gold, lovingly told
Oh the stories I heard of Ireland were plenty
So us children growing up would be aware
And we’d agree to live here with utmost care
“We may be in America, but no one’s going native”
Resonated through my life like a battle cry
However, my Father dutifully handed it down
There was no “why Dad?”, you just comply
Or, little lassie you’ll be wearing a frown
To lay all this on us in a land we conquered
Certainly did form me, giving much to ponder
Like making sure I had the “the gift of gab”
So no one could ever call me drab
That was a good one, yup
Now I can barely shut up!
Thank you Grandfather, Father and Mother
For helping me feel like a complete alien here
Sprinkling love with just the right amount of fear
As if the Irish didn’t have enough superstitions
Like the Moon, wee leprechauns and the Devil
That I really never understood on a spiritual level
Irish superstitions, don’t you think, can be overdone
Like “lucky” four leaf clovers, “I’m looking over”
That darn little four leaf was surely my good luck
And as I feverishly looked for that fleeting clover
You know the four leafs I could never find or pluck
Spending literally hours trying to find in the yard
I would think about the Irish stories really hard
Letting them sink in, God forbid I would run amok
I’m naming a few superstitions that stuck like glue,
As you laughed with glee because I believed you!
You just live your life in the Celtic way
From your Irish roots you never stray
Your Grandfather was a mighty Irishman
In this new country he had a fierce plan
To live as if he never ever left his Ireland home
I’m sure he never sang “where the buffalo roam”
Grandfather, I think that was just a little crazy
Very emotional, traditional and a bit lazy
‘Cause now your granddaughter is losing her grip
And needs to catch the next space ship!
What’s it like being in America
When your heritage is Irish
This country’s a poor replica
Of the far off land you cherish
Grandfather arrived here at eleven
Sorely missing his land of heaven
His parents clung to Irish ways
Living them out all of their days
To keep from deep depression
And their aching hearts to lessen
They needed their Irish expression
Its ironic this experience in the land of many
How each generation tells the stories of old
Filled with rainbows and gold, lovingly told
Oh the stories I heard of Ireland were plenty
So us children growing up would be aware
And we’d agree to live here with utmost care
“We may be in America, but no one’s going native”
Resonated through my life like a battle cry
However, my Father dutifully handed it down
There was no “why Dad?”, you just comply
Or, little lassie you’ll be wearing a frown
To lay all this on us in a land we conquered
Certainly did form me, giving much to ponder
Like making sure I had the “the gift of gab”
So no one could ever call me drab
That was a good one, yup
Now I can barely shut up!
Thank you Grandfather, Father and Mother
For helping me feel like a complete alien here
Sprinkling love with just the right amount of fear
As if the Irish didn’t have enough superstitions
Like the Moon, wee leprechauns and the Devil
That I really never understood on a spiritual level
Irish superstitions, don’t you think, can be overdone
Like “lucky” four leaf clovers, “I’m looking over”
That darn little four leaf was surely my good luck
And as I feverishly looked for that fleeting clover
You know the four leafs I could never find or pluck
Spending literally hours trying to find in the yard
I would think about the Irish stories really hard
Letting them sink in, God forbid I would run amok
I’m naming a few superstitions that stuck like glue,
As you laughed with glee because I believed you!
You just live your life in the Celtic way
From your Irish roots you never stray
Your Grandfather was a mighty Irishman
In this new country he had a fierce plan
To live as if he never ever left his Ireland home
I’m sure he never sang “where the buffalo roam”
Grandfather, I think that was just a little crazy
Very emotional, traditional and a bit lazy
‘Cause now your granddaughter is losing her grip
And needs to catch the next space ship!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2014
About this poem:
Thinking about my heritage and how I wish I were in the UK! Ireland, Scotland...England (it's complicated) . . .that's where my heart is!So many poets here from my ancestors home! It makes me feel warm!
Conflict
My adversary
says he is my friend,
But he constantly strives
my will to bend,
Then when he breaks me
he has no respect,
I look in his eyes
can no mercy detect,
With pitiless heart
he crushes my spirit,
His nagging voice bites
so hard that I fear it,
Ashamed of my weakness
and being so meek,
Embarrassed to tears
I endeavor to seek,
Escape in denial
a powerful tool,
I still feel the anguish
I've been such a fool,
I shall continue to
play the sad role,
A poet does her duty
and loses her soul.
~SAS~
says he is my friend,
But he constantly strives
my will to bend,
Then when he breaks me
he has no respect,
I look in his eyes
can no mercy detect,
With pitiless heart
he crushes my spirit,
His nagging voice bites
so hard that I fear it,
Ashamed of my weakness
and being so meek,
Embarrassed to tears
I endeavor to seek,
Escape in denial
a powerful tool,
I still feel the anguish
I've been such a fool,
I shall continue to
play the sad role,
A poet does her duty
and loses her soul.
~SAS~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2014
About this poem:
Okay, Im jumping out of my comfort zone and trying to rhyme, I think its cheesy but this is all I have. LOL
Memory Lane.
Long years ago, I with joy remember,
when I met a man in his late December,
tho' his gait was slow,yet eyes shone bright
that conveyed an air of sheer delight,
defied the later chapter of his age,
intuitive his heart burnt bright ablaze,
I then, to this world quite new,
he by age, a sprightly ninety two,
with thoughtful prose, he in wisdom talked
whilst we awhile together walked,
Said he,"Listen well to this vast world,
then, the music of its spheres Heaven unfurl,
treat this planet and all therein that dwell
with honour, a magic cadence, then reveals its spell,
stay ever close to nature's abundant spirit,
for the jewels of live revolve within it,
respect your fellow beings unique individuality,
'tis the building blocks of Man's integrity,
relish shared toils, it's labour you'll find
will benefit the brotherhood of mankind,
culture honest, no false idols there implant,
well being of the mind, forever sacrosanct",
So know ye well,
the web of life, has not been woven by mankind,
we are but a single thread within you'll find,
what error we do to this fragile structure
is self-destructing and by tatters will rupture,
we're part of a garment, knitted tightly together,
united bound, the storms of life to weather.
when I met a man in his late December,
tho' his gait was slow,yet eyes shone bright
that conveyed an air of sheer delight,
defied the later chapter of his age,
intuitive his heart burnt bright ablaze,
I then, to this world quite new,
he by age, a sprightly ninety two,
with thoughtful prose, he in wisdom talked
whilst we awhile together walked,
Said he,"Listen well to this vast world,
then, the music of its spheres Heaven unfurl,
treat this planet and all therein that dwell
with honour, a magic cadence, then reveals its spell,
stay ever close to nature's abundant spirit,
for the jewels of live revolve within it,
respect your fellow beings unique individuality,
'tis the building blocks of Man's integrity,
relish shared toils, it's labour you'll find
will benefit the brotherhood of mankind,
culture honest, no false idols there implant,
well being of the mind, forever sacrosanct",
So know ye well,
the web of life, has not been woven by mankind,
we are but a single thread within you'll find,
what error we do to this fragile structure
is self-destructing and by tatters will rupture,
we're part of a garment, knitted tightly together,
united bound, the storms of life to weather.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2015
About this poem:
This a poignant walk, never forgotten and brightly burns within my memory
SOMEWHERE
Somewhere in a wild where hunter kills
A bird cries our for it's mate
The sun is setting behind the hills
And it's never been gone so late
Somewhere in the heavens an angel sings
And unless being sent by the Lord
He may not interfere in earthly things
And raise his bow or his sword
Somewhere in my heart tender longings yet
Still endure through the pain and stress
For a sweetheart I have not met
And the one I may not posess
A bird cries our for it's mate
The sun is setting behind the hills
And it's never been gone so late
Somewhere in the heavens an angel sings
And unless being sent by the Lord
He may not interfere in earthly things
And raise his bow or his sword
Somewhere in my heart tender longings yet
Still endure through the pain and stress
For a sweetheart I have not met
And the one I may not posess
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2015
About this poem:
Just rumbling.Ode to joy
In awesome wonder, bemused with naive gaze,
glanced I, upon the garden's flower'd sprays,
keen of eye, gathered there upon a wondrous spree,
enhanced by filtered shades of nearby protective tree,
exhibiting splendour by Nature's woven braid,
Zephyr kissed, where dancing breezes played
from Dawn's soft light,'til eve's fired close,
weaves coloured sweet, a bouquet of repose,
Blessed quietude, abounds my garden here,
akin to infant innocence, happy smiles spun dear,
each flowered season here I joyous spend,
ne'er to question, man's questions of why or when,
cloistered hours, its sacred aura breathing know,
humble adoration amid plants that nature sow,
mocks human society, oft, course low and rude,
thus my sanctuary, found amid this flowered solitude,
Oft have I, Summer bathed amid a velvet carpet green,
my honoured eyes, have, in silent blushing wonders seen,
Yet methinks, how brazen lovers would the oceans tame,
with profanities pomp, and for posterity carve their name
thoughtless, upon the bark of some proud tree,
weave conceited hope, the world their name to see
as loose lipped devotion, temporarily to be found,
highlight fragility, proud tree alone the world astound.
glanced I, upon the garden's flower'd sprays,
keen of eye, gathered there upon a wondrous spree,
enhanced by filtered shades of nearby protective tree,
exhibiting splendour by Nature's woven braid,
Zephyr kissed, where dancing breezes played
from Dawn's soft light,'til eve's fired close,
weaves coloured sweet, a bouquet of repose,
Blessed quietude, abounds my garden here,
akin to infant innocence, happy smiles spun dear,
each flowered season here I joyous spend,
ne'er to question, man's questions of why or when,
cloistered hours, its sacred aura breathing know,
humble adoration amid plants that nature sow,
mocks human society, oft, course low and rude,
thus my sanctuary, found amid this flowered solitude,
Oft have I, Summer bathed amid a velvet carpet green,
my honoured eyes, have, in silent blushing wonders seen,
Yet methinks, how brazen lovers would the oceans tame,
with profanities pomp, and for posterity carve their name
thoughtless, upon the bark of some proud tree,
weave conceited hope, the world their name to see
as loose lipped devotion, temporarily to be found,
highlight fragility, proud tree alone the world astound.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2015
About this poem:
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