Most Viewed Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

If I could only see
Far beyond the sunrise
And look for that place
Where there are no horizons
Dawn never arrives
And a misty sunset
Was a dream
Long forgotten in the past
As if life
Was a vacuum
Staring blindly back
And yet
There is nothing to see

Hope, was a nonsense word
Love, was solely meant
For the imaginative
I sought for beauty
Not within you
Only within myself

If I could only see
If I could only see

Stains on yellowed linens,
On arms of easy chair,
Tear stains on a pillow,
And stains in underwear.

Coffee stains on tables,
From burning midnight oil.
Stains on faded bluejeans,
From gas and grease and soil.

Tar stains on crooked teeth,
From years of sucking smoke.
And similar addictions,
Like coffee, tea and Coke.

Stains that tell a story,
Of life lived day by day,
Until the final staining
As life's blood drains away.

surprise, I made a new friend today
a voice from the past kept filling my head
her sound was uplifting, made me feel gay
drawn out of my shell as each word was said

for far, far, too many years
time spent before had been held deep inside
in dormancy nestled one with my fears
would rumble but only in mind would it bide

and then a sweet songbird entered my ears
awakening sounds that I had dismissed
easing my conscience that once fed my fears
her astounding siren I could not resist

anew let to sing my words of love
meanings and feelings soon crept from my heart
and soon were echoed to heaven above
never again will my song and I part

This poem is for my wife.
I have made it plainly and honestly:
The mark is on it
Like the burl on the knife.

I have not made it for praise.
She has no more need for praise
Than summer has
Or the bright days.

In all that becomes a woman
Her words and her ways are beautiful:
Love’s lovely duty,
The well-swept room.

Wherever she is there is sun
And time and a sweet air:
Peace is there,
Work done.

There are always curtains and flowers
And candles and baked bread
And a cloth spread
And a clean house.

Her voice when she sings is a voice
At dawn by a freshening sea
Where the wave leaps in the
Wind and rejoices.

Wherever she is it is Now.
It is here where the apples are:
Here in the stars,
In the quick hour.

The greatest and richest good,
My own life to live in,
This she has given me –
If giver could.

Oh how it feels to share a thought
Of how it means to feel for another
But alas would the words have a meaning?
If the other would not understand the goodwill!

Oh how people try to misuse or analyse
And some would cover-up with ignorance
But some would accept and then abuse?
The words of compassion and goodwill!

Oh how the world is full of abusers
Who would just rape or abuse with their attitude
But also the words they use, and do not use
Is it the right of one to another to be mistaken!

Oh how nice it would feel to share a thought
Of how the world feels to one another
And how nice, if one would actually not be
Mistakenly mistaken to express it, so true!

Man Goes To Moonio
Plants a Flagio
Says one small step for manio
Gas prices go upio
Carter is to blamio
Saturday Nightlivio
Disco dancingio
Reagan gets electio
Michael Jacksonio
Moonwalkingio
Space Shuttle blows upio
Clinton and Monicaio
Bush and Iraqio
Where is Osamaio?
Barack Obamio
Elected twiceio
2013io
Zimmerman is freeio
Operaman
Bye! Bye!

Wandering through the city lights,
walking slowly watching shadows close,
recalling all those stupid fights,
now wondering who was hurt the most,

Footsteps not yours close to me,
joyous laughter seems abound,
no longer have the responsibility, am free,
but when alone, all things have a lonely sound,

Music blares songs from the past,
my feet tingle and want to move,
momentarily lost to all the good that was cast,
I feel the rythm and beat, am in the groove,

In mind am dancing along the street,
grinning foolishly like an overgrown clown,
staring eyes saying, you, we dont want to meet,
smiling softly within, they will not get me down,

The river shines full of lifes souls,
lapping waves against the sturdy banks,
the murky depths are not one of my goals,
walking with shadows, today, I give thanks.

Smoothed and polished
On pedatals they stand
Names in brass
Carved

Gigantic forms
Bodies moulded
Carved
Chissled stone

They stand cold lifeless
Motionless forms set in stone
They

Robin Hood fighting with his men
Robin Hood riding through the glen
When people are scared and in need
He listens tentavely to their plead
He ventures forth helping everyone
In his own way he is having fun
Sherwood Forest green and blue
Little John where are you?
I steal from the rich and give to the poor
Trying to be logical and not too obscure
Bow and Arrows all over the place
My who is this distinguised face
Beam Me down Scotty I am here
Sounds like normalicy all is clear
However everything happens for a reason
Numerous challenges present for the season
Shocking the enemy is near
Fear not Spock is Here
Similar to that robot on lost in space
Completing assignments dutifully without a trace
Danger Danger that does not compute
I am Spock the truth I pursuit
Logical song Peter Frampton and friends
Supertramp there also making amends
I love Sherwood Forest Fancy and Free
For that is the place I would like to be
Missing Tarzan and Jane however near by
Spotting the Sherrif I must quickly fly
Cheery Optimistic men and woman are here with me
Laughter tears joys and sorrow sharing and commaradary
Point you arrow and you may find
Loving faces beautiful and kind
Enjoy the atmosphere today and tomorrow
for life is sweet and parting of sorrow
The trip to Sherwood Forest is fun for all
Come join us and you will have a ball

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.