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Most Commented Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

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.

marikia

Glove

I am wearing a glove, see it here on my hand,
The glove I intend to be part of myself.
A riddle is hidden under the glove,
Sweet to remember, leading thought to dark.

Here on my hand sweet sensation does rest
Of slender fingers of prettiest hand.
And just like a song that keeps playing in me
My friend the glove keeps reminding of thee.

Each has a riddle which leads us to dark
I have my glove as a sweet memoir
The glove I intend to keep on till time
Of our next meeting, reunion time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2010
About this poem:
The author is a remarkable Russian symbolist poet of the beginning of the 20th century Nikolai Gumiliov. In 1921 he was shot by the revolutionary government on the charge of taking part in a counterrevolutionary plot. But in reality he died due to refusal to divulge information about the plot. His wife – an outstanding Russian poet Anna Akhmatova - wrote in despair: My husband's in grave, My son is in cell, I plead you to pray for me, pray.
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agoodguy2have

marathon mind

as i run upon this earth
pant with deepening breaths
a well of warmth beats within
pounding to cross this desert

spectacle of purpose to come
arms rhythmically flailing
pound pant pound pant pound
toed to healing oh cross

across sizzling sun summer
over mooning chilled nights
elation comes to my step
always nearer to ecstasy

endurance a fulfillment finish
aching flesh dissolves unknown
with the recovering lilt
reflex to move on continues

a measured mind of distance
past periodic perambulation
cooling the heals at rest
always leaning to next step

away or toward immaterial
movement is all, move on all
run on, breath, run on, ahh
svelte body angular motion

taking in stride the pounding
rhythmic cadence of thought
metronome of legs swing
run on oh soul run to life

© agoodguy2have 2010-10-13
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2010
About this poem:
hmmm....file under health...or nostalgia...
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Unknown

sea of voices

Come to the sea of voices
as you walk upon the beach
look back your generations
so many gone to sleep

out there with the stars
somewhere baton holders
who ran the race before
i miss you now

last people
standing in a household
while ones before
long since left

the cold wind blows
when reflecting
you were once here
sometime ago

goodbye grandad
grandmother too
farewell to my dad
i never got to know you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2010
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Unknown

View of an empty street.

VEIW OF AN EMPTY STREET


Cold and damp is the morning in mind,
Quiet as the grave if you were here you’d find.
From the top of Nobles Rock, a clear view of a street,
No parked cars, no bikes, no clatter of feet.

The rain had fallen from rooftops to ground,
Geese flying in the distance, without any sound.
Shop windows light up for early doors,
As the wind gushes in off the cold open moors.

This is my little town surrounding that street,
Strange folk a plenty, yet some nice to meet.
It’s lovely to see whilst sat here on my own,
Let time not change it, it’s my life, my home.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2012
About this poem:
Something that came to mind as I chilled out early one morn...
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TUPLDRF

"THE FLIGHT"

The bat is poised to unleash its magnificent fury
As the soon to be punished spheroid prepares to take flight
In the majestic orbit that is both timeless & startling
The hurtling spheroid cuts a perfect arc
As it knifes its way flawlessly through the acquiescent firmament
Sans reflection
Sans protest
Sans regret
It feels the whooshing poetry
Admires its full-bodied trajectory
And can't help emitting its wan smile
In the heart of the battered ball's descent.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2012
About this poem:
Baseball is in full swing right now and I wanted to pay homage to an overlooked important component of the game....the ball

Whether it's Amish children playing baseball in the ballfield adjacent to their one room schoolhouse, 80 year old men playing softball in organized leagues, a parent pitching to a young son or daughter...a ball of some sort is essential.

Therefore, here is a paean that I composed for the baseball, softball, rag ball..or whatever happens to get batted about.
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scrofa09

Whispers of the Wind

Can I tell you something?
It’s a secret so hold on tight.
Your soothing voice, I’ve been longing
They say this isn’t right.

And then I wonder what you would think.
If I told you what’s inside my head.
It’s scary but it’s either swim or sink.
Will my momentary bravery succeed?

Oh, can I tell you one more thing?
You have to know that in every twilight
It’s your voice I hear that sing
Of beautiful melody that calms my plight.

Wherever you may be
But through the whispers of the wind
A glorious thought of you like no any
I intend to keep with me til the end.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2012
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Unknown

The Wiseman of Digby Nova Scotia

T'was a dismal night in Digby as I wandered 'bout the town.
Searching for a cubbyhole where I might lay me down.
I gazed into a window in a shop down by the bay,
The haggard man reflected took my laboured breath away.

The tattered clothes that covered him were rumpled and askew,
His wrinkled face unshaven, with sunken eyes of blue.
Down by the wharf I found a meal of fish flakes laid to dry,
I chewed upon a mouthful and laid me down to die.

Don't grow old alone my friend,don't cast your friends aside.
Don't die alone and homeless, because of stubborn pride.
Hold tight to those who've loved you, don't judge and criticize!
My final words I'll offer you:
"We're to long stupid and too late wise"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2012
About this poem:
I guess I'm beginning to feel my age creeping in upon me.
I seem to be reflecting on life a little differently
than I did not so many years ago.
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scrofa09

Through The Mirror’s Eye

As I watched myself carefully
Analyzing the details of my body
A flash of memory struck
Neither did I know what to feel nor how to react

I never gave you the wrong impression
Always been honest to you about my passion
I told you from the very beginning
That I was looking for something never ending

But, oh you, thought that was a joke
My dear, never thought of you to be that bloke
That one that thinks everything’s a game
Is that all you want, fun and fame?

Before your mouth opens and judge me bad
Please remember that you’re no special lad
I may be not the devil’s advocate
Shh, but listen to what I’ll have to implicate

Don’t pretend to know and forget
Or you’ll be sorry but it’ll be too late to regret
For sure I’m no saint
Close to that? Heck no, I ain’t!

This mirror will tell who I am
What I’ve been, where I’m from
The truth, this mirror, will not bend
For it will show who the sinner is in the end.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2012
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Unknown

For

For the words that never say
For the time that you missed it
For the moment that I wanna go back

For forgivness before you say sorry
For forever time I had been waiting
For the memories that you can only remember

and for the word "I love you"
is for you
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2012
About this poem:
*For you*
~NS~
Nov 19, 2012
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Yankee4youonline now!

1968: An American Christmas

“There are no such things as elves”, my older brother would say
“And why do you think Santa’s so old and so gray?”
“Santa looks really stupid in his red suit and lived a long time ago”
“I don’t know why but you’re wrong and I know you don’t know”
Would be my reply. “Oh yea, believe what you want to believe,
But all Santa’s toys are made in Japan”, as he reach up to show me
And stretched out his eyes and would laugh as he implied,
“Maybe that’s why elves have pointed ears and slanted eyes”
“No! You are wrong!! You are wrong!!” I would cry!
“Santa is real and so are all his wonderful elves”

And every Christmas morning beneath a fresh balsam fir
Twinkling lights and ornaments and tinsel would stir
And on top a shining star with a promise would bring
And in the background a choir of angels would sing
Those wonderful songs that I would just hum along
That wonderful feeling I was right all along!!!

Merry Christmas !!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2011
About this poem:
Written with no intensions to offend anyone, but this is a near as I can remember to those early days and these past events were as they were. America was not a very politically correct place and older brothers were ....well just being older brothers.
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