Most Commented Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

I want to write poems of love
just for you
Fragments frozen forever
of our time together.
I want to sing songs of joy
just for you
Moments of magic never forgotten
but most of all,
I want to say "thank you"
just for being for me
my own poem of love.

Vase full of light and color. Tall, proud voluptuous.
Riding high on dresser tall dark many drawers.
Faded spot one rests on other like two lovers.
Color light spinning through space.
Faded spot uncovered. Bare empty place.
Cold... hard silent. No hope of turning whole again.
Warm.... gooey binding. Sealed by loves hand.
First look you see the streaks, thin line cracks.
Time goes by .... All seems whole once more.
Smallest gentle jostle.... Broken worst than before.
Picking up the pieces. Fallen all apart.
Tucking gently away....Not wanting to.
To many pieces....don't know where to start.
Closing drawer...lay broken in the dark.
Faded spot uncovered. Bare empty space.
Try many none fit. As if faded spot beckoning.
Vase to take its place.

writing a poem
half way done
ran out of words
but then another one had emerged
so i changed lanes
and a collision occured
now in a tangled wreck
with two poems smashed into one
cut off the top
tried to pull it apart
they would both die
if torn apart
i'll let them go
welded into one
two poems
made into one

A man might live and work beside
The fellows around the wagon;
And never say two words unless
Its just hoorah and braggin'.

But sometimes in the solitude
Of some old line camp shack;
He smooths a fruit can label out
And writes there on it's back.

A group of words redeemed there from time to time
To last when he moves on;
Set down with a hurried flourish
Before his memory of them are gone.

The spelling may not be exact
Or commas where they ought
But there within those rugged lines
A mood is somehow caught.

It might be full of sadness
From a death or crippled friend;
To just the mournful yearning
For a way that's bound to end.

Some others could be bawdy
While full of life and mirth
Or stories about some saddle horse
That has no peers on earth.

There's many through the years been lost
Or burned or thrown away
But others yet survive
To give us views of yesterday.

And still among the working hands
The words come now and then
To write a living history
Of the stock, and earth and men.

Soon the blossoms will return
and lone rider will come home.
She is waiting in the cabin
for her man to ride in.

There the lone rider
sweeps over the plains,
six gun is holstered
left hand holds the reins.

Thinking of someone
across the divide;
a woman with blossoms
and young growing child.

Ride on lone rider
through dust storms and rain,
work is accomplished
you come home again.

One bullet is missing
all that was needed,
avenging his brother
shot down by that killer.

There in a gunfight
lone rider outdrew him,
there in a town
called medicine bend.

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Oh Shenandoah, I hear you calling
all along, the Missisipi
roll along, you just keep rolling on
as I look, upon you

And all before, who ever came here
think back in time, a soldier's daughter
a Civil war, and cannons sounding
all across, this wide Missouri

I feel the song, just lifts me higher
take me on, that lonely river
where dreams, and lives of others
move along, in time and song

I love to think, of Shendandoah
a homeland free, before the guns came
wooded plains, and pastures giving
life and peace, but for a while

Time rolls on, just like the river
stand and look, as others once did
on this, so mighty river
roll along, yes roll along
you wide, so wide Missouri.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When we were kids, you were always around
You were the one boy, I hated most in town
It seemed you always, liked to follow me
For making me cry, made you so happy
So when it rained and I couldn't play
You'd laugh so hard, I'd have to say
You came around, to chase the sun away
Cause you know, I never liked a rainy day

Then we grew older, and fell in love
The sun was so bright, up above
I didn't mind, having you around
You were the one boy, I loved most in town
But then one day, it began to storm
I looked around, and you were gone
I found the note you wrote, sayin goodbye
I got so mad, that I started to cry

Oh well now, isn't this just like you
Seems you always, liked to make me blue
Why'd you leave, and chase the sun away
When you know, I've never liked a rainy day
Oh no, I've never liked... a rainy day

Ranching life is cattle-
Riding fence and shakin' hay,
Spending hours in a saddle
Working weary for my pay.

It's spinning fancy rope tricks
Telling yarns the cowboy way
Tying knots and twisting wire
Watching gangly calves at play.

It's friendship between old bunkmates-
It's the fellowship of men
And the sharing of a moment
At the passing of a friend.

It's the clap of heavy thunder
When the last one's in the pen
And a weary pony's playful romp..
When the long day hits its end.

It's a flat loop when you need it
It's a dally without thumbs
It's the sizzle of an iron
When they've rounded up the bums.

It's the sparkling stars of heaven
When the cool of evening comes
And the calming gift of music
When a campfire guitar strums.

It's the burst of blooming clover
And the smell of new mown hay,
And the soothing sounds the crickets make
When all light's gone from day.

It's the greening days of drizzle
That transform the land each May,
And the twinkling eyes of children...
Watching barn cats' kittens play.

It's the crisp snap your boots make..
On fresh new arctic snow,
And the heavenly glow of northern lights
Setting winter skies aglow.

But mostly it's the simple little truths
That all ranch families know....
Respect the land.. the earth and man...
And the creatures God's bestowed.

Cowboy poets are among my heroes
And I'm certain you're wondering why
Well I suppose it's 'cause they make me laugh
And sometimes they make me cry.

They have a way of sparking my brain up it seems
To make my mind's eye see the horses
Crossing clear blue mountain streams
Cold water running stony courses.


They can make my mind's eye nose
Smell a thing or two as well
Like horse sweat and leather
On a day that's hot as hell.

They can make me feel the snowflakes
As they sting my ears and face
As I'm bringing in a calving heifer
Down to the Old Home Place.

They just up and lift my heart
To a place they call the West
And there is just enough cowgirl in me
To know that place is best.

Weaned atop the withers of his mama's favorite mare
Cried salty tears until the ride won out

Schooled deep in the saddle
On a two-eyed colt of dad's
Both teachers echoed
Clear what life's about

Revel in the journey
Ride hard, forget the end
Life ain't about the dying
It's the getting there my friend

Tested alongside cowpunchers
Whose lessons worth not looms on paper
But is written in the grasses where they ride

Graduate of hard work
Carving character with sweat
Now one of them
His tutor has died

Diploma smells of leather
Earned justly with a rope
Courageous and undaunted in the saddle

Sheepskin seldom blemished
With the prideful ways of men
Whose bankroll alone
Can prove near fatal

Revel in the journey
Ride hard, forget the end
Life ain't about the dyin'
It's the getting there my friend.