Most Commented Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

It's a long straight stretch of road
No danger in it's sights;
Putting your mind at ease,
Laying your worries in the back.

Rolling down the window
Letting the wind fluff through your hair;
It's hot as Hades outside!
Sweat builds beneath your shirt.

Hills rising and falling away
The gentleness of dusk appears;
You might just close your eyes,
'Cause it's a long straight stretch of road.

Enough of mourning and of pain
It´s time to live and laugh again
So take my hand and let us walk
spend an evening with good talk.
We´re alive and today is ours
for tomorrow who knows?
Enough of problems and of stress
forget the world, it´s such a mess.
Let´s be together for awhile
greet each day with a smile,
love a little or just be friends.
Care not how the story ends
for tomorrow who knows?

TRADING DISASTER FOR CRUMPETS AND TEA
(is something I only learned how do after you)


For you, my tall endangered one
I wrote
your name across the sky
with reckless blood
not breaking contact with
your storied eyes
And knocking on that driftwood heart relentlessly.

You did not let me in.

I watched wide-eyed
as you played
hop-scotch in the mine fields,
paddy-cakes with the devil;
you said to me, “I’m a survivor
and I’m dangerous.”
You were.

I watched wide-eyed
your vain attempts to plant the sky
in your backyard
with an ordinary spade;
the far-flung stars of Orion
as your seeds~

Who did I think you were?
(a god in simple street clothes?)

Yet I believed in you
Your dreams were vast
But vacuum-packed
unblossoming and fruitless, you lived with
deft disregard
of your own highest good,
and everything I thought of you as well.

I’m not pointing fingers
but you were the one
who carried hurricanes around
in your back pocket
lassoed them in when you
felt cooled or spent, you
were the one who walked
life’s curvatures
without looking up ahead

You balanced, tommyhawk,
the serrated edge
wondering at the bloodshed;

and you massacred my heart
without intent.

Each time I stepped outside my door
into your life, the landscape shifted;
then I’d be down, babe, for the count;
and while I regained my bearings, you’d
be a mile ahead
escorting the wind
without a plan.

You made of me
an isolated wandering star
blue with burning cold,
bright untouchable.

And now I must confess,
I would rather have walked
into a tea shop, babe
and ordered simple

crumpets and tea.

Questions,
An answer to our ingestions,
But what do we do?
When we question our questions?

A conclusion made,
A spade is a spade,
The last note,
Of our seranade.

Not the correct answer,
Just not the correct question,
Who am I?
Who have I become? No!

Ask yourself,
What do I stand for?
Who do I love?
And when this fails.
Repeat all of the above

Time is the sand
That through my fingers slip
Relentlessly marching, moving on
Leaving us behind

Your face before me
A shadow so vague
Your memory deeply buried
The lines, the curves
The sweet, sweet smile
An echo barely lingers
Your voice whispers
From ages long past
Within my lonely soul
Your touch I feel
Upon my skin
How time has dulled the senses

Oh how I wish that memory
In a bottle you could keep
Take a sip, refresh yourself
The past to relive

I stand up and look around
I wonder how much can be found
When I look into my mind
I wonder how much will I find
Before I lay down to sleep
How much must I keep
Why can't I just let it go

As the wheels keep on spinning
Darkness grows I'm not winning
The battle grows frustration creeps
How come everyone else sleeps
Why can't I just let it go

When I think about what I could have done
A little different your heart I could've won
But once again here I lay
Thinking about what I did today
The mistakes I made plenty of
Where's the help from above
Why can't I just let it go

that indian, he ain't come to town
still, summer's started windin' down
you can feel it in the air some how
this season's seasoning, time to avow

do soldiers march with cadence strident?
as sure of battles outcomes provident
as time of Sol marches across the sky
another summer season spent, gone by

still, the warmth will linger a bit more
'til Earth's tilting a cooler guarantor
that winter will soon tag this autumn
and nights long flow slow as sorghum

quarterly, we divide our seasonal pie
to save and share and partake thereby
turning our waterwheel of milling time
to something fervent, meaningful, sublime

so, i fervently wish to take this opportune
today, to share this halcyon afternoon
with you alone, ok maybe a pet or two
i love this life, i love this day, i love you

© Goode Guy 2011-08-22

You left a mark , a mark behind
Like a footprint in my mind
A clear imprint that i can see
Reminding me of what you were to me

Its amazingly clear an precise
This footprint has its own device
For i can't seem to rub it out
It just wants to hang about

It pastes a smile on my face
This footprint i can't replace
The depth of which has clarity
For i wonder what this to be

It makes me want to turn around
This footprint that keeps you around
To seek you out an ask of thee
Why does this footprint bother me

But as you've moved on with life
An soon to be a husbands wife
This footprint i will have to reap
To keep me company as i sleep

Died for me, died for you,
Died for my fault, Died for your fault,
And Risen,
and Lives in me,
if you calls Him,
He will Live in you,
And He RETURN
Wonderful JESUS!

There he stood under the ragged rim
Of the crumbling red stone cliffs
Hidden in the slag of the blackened
And fractured once molten volcanic rifts.

Created by upheavals in the fragile crust of this
Restless and shifting land
It was once unspoiled, unblemished
By the touch of human hand.

Murals etched on stone canvas
Stories so simply told
There a hunter and the hunted
Riding across plains of rose and gold.

But he has stood under the shadowed rim
For at least four hundred years
With a helmet on his spectre's head
In his clawed hand a rusty spear.

Forgotten by the men who left him there
Until I stumbled upon his bones
In the lonely grotto, sacred canyon
Where the Conquistador stands alone.

Hallowed eyed with a ghastly wide
And an ivory gapped toothed grin
His scream filled the air and raised my hair
With that voice of a Harlequin.

It was only chance that brought me here
To this timeless haunted place
That will be lost again to the whispering winds
That the sands of time will erase.

I spoke to that silent rack of bones
Who had searched for the fabled gold
Who stands forever Guardian
And whose story has never been told.

He came with a ship from across the sea
In service to a Spanish King
He marches with the others from the western coast
Into the deserts of early spring.

Horses carried those metal clad men
And wagons rattled and creaked
The haughty Dons and the Black robed priest
Searched a land that was empty and bleak.

They conquered the people's souls for the church
Merciless in their quest
Leaving their mark on the people and land
As they marched across the West.

But standing there under the ragged rim
Of that crumbling sandstone wall
The lonely remains of Conquistador
Shone proudly white and tall.

Still guarding the wagons,armor and store
Of the men long since dead
Who followed the trail to the far saw toothed hills
Across a dry river bed.

And into the sun for the gold cities they'd come
But for him they never returned
Yet he guarded the grotto where he'd been left behind
And the sun relentlessly burned.

But those days he'd recorded as he waited for death
In a message he left on the wall
With only the voice of the whispering wind
And the vultures that had come to call


He thought of his home
Cross the waters he'd roamed and his child he'd not ever see
And he kept his story for all those years
Until he shared it that day with me.

Yes, lost to the world for three centuries or more
I left him for others to find
The Conquistador of the Canyon of Tears
That the Spanish had left behind.