Most Viewed Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

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.

Old Jims eyes take on a watery glaze
As he continues to relive those far off days
On that long weekend
Up from the sticks
All tooled up for fun and frolics.
He downs another glass
As he slowly turns that old photograph
To reveal,..a cute girl in boots and a mini
Clinging to a longhaired guy,
All bashful and skinny
With a bunch of white carnations in hand
That she bought for him..
From a city centre flower stand
Just for a bit of fun,
Just for devilment,
Just to revel in his embarrassment.
Old Jim lights a smoke and smiles
Rolling back the miles
As he recalls that dreaded bouquet
And how she made him carry it around all day
As proof of his love...she said
As if proof were needed..
Old Jim shakes his head and lets out a sigh
Had he the chance now,
He would carry it to Egypt.
As Jim pours again,he begins to hum..
That old Mary Hopkin song
Those were the days my friend..
We thought theyd never end...
As he recalls Sue scouring the
Record stores for that song,..she so adored.
And oh, how she shimmied and posed
Like a true centrefold
Still managing to look so pretty
In the rain and the cold
As their photograph was taken
By the man on the bridge
While endeavouring to dodge the rush hour carnage
Afterwards,...Sue skipped along..
Happily chewing her juicyfruit gum,
Stopping once, to give coins to a begger
Yes, life was grand, it couldn't get much better
They had the freedom of the city
There was so much to see,
And like two kids in a sweet shop,
They rubbed their hands with glee....

Sitting here I am lonely,
Thinking of you.
I wish you were here,
Beside me,
By the fire....

I'd really love,
Your arms around me.
But distance,
Makes my heart desire....

Then,
I call your name.
Staring into,
The candle flame,
I see your face....

For sitting beside me,
Is your true and only place.
I wonder what you're doing now,
Thinking of you,
Thinking of me.
I smile.
In my mind's eye,
T'is us.
Together,
I see....

My heart
Calls your name.
The day will come,
When we two,
Will,
Make true love....

I looking into your eyes,
Touching your face.
By candle light,
Fire glowing,
Desrie high....
,
T'is then my love,
Into your ear,
I shall whisper,
How very much,
I truly.
Truly,
Love you....

30/1/2011....

Liza Mc Beth....

Im just a woman
A mind that shifts
One day turmoil
One day bliss

A soul chained down
Cant blame my fate
Been left here behind
Im falling fast
I think its too late

To be continued.....

HE APRENDIDO

A amar mí libertad
A sentir el viento
A apreciar el mar

A ver la gente y saberle llevar
A ver mis posibilidades y saberlas captar
A ver mis metas y lograrlas alcanzar

A no herir a nadie pero es difícil hacerlo
De verdad

A caminar sobre la hierba y sentir su suavidad
A ser integro con principios y valores
Esa es mi propuesta mundial

A decir la verdad sin llegar a lastimar
A reaccionar con las injusticias
A sentir de verdad
A ver las cosas con discernidad
A apreciarte así sea en la distancia
Y mi vida transformar

A oler las flores y sentir su aroma natural
A tener los pies sobre la tierra pero sin dejar
De soñar

A dirigir caminos con reciprocidad
A tener lo mejor de mi y darlo en comunidad
A pensar en grande y actuar con equidad..

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!

Missing Manitoba
Xmas Season
Craving yakisoba

In this day and age
And time and place
Discreetly peering at past
And present and future

It looks different now
But still fairly easy
To hope and dream
Finding happiness here

Surely it is common
For those of our age
To look at the achievements
Of the world and ourselves

Comparing them to others
Who lived in harder times
Or softer times, and placing
Our knowing selves again, wondering

Would we, could we
Travel the paths unbroken
Seeing obstacles
As mere challenges

Would we, could we
Search out those
Who we now see have
Value beyond the casual

And would we work as hard
To forge our friendships
Our loves our works or choose
To be blissful, slightly, ignorant

Moving along where the view
Is wide, the slope gentle
The pace easy, unintentional
Taking life that comes our way

Or, hungry, searching out
As if all is unexperienced and worth
The risks of climbing, turning,
Swimming through the tide

Living each adventure because
All is new, and different
Worthy of discovering
Over again, every day

It’s been the story of her life
Years prior the morning makeup routine
was the layout of the day’s wardrobe
There was the lunchbox
There was a sibling, sometimes four, clamoring for
precious little, duly shared space

First Valentine, the myriad teasing, and the
sheer overwhelm of it all
An event long given place to the repair invoice
uncovered items the salesman assured
were warranted as gold

Is this the line for butterflies
the last verse to conclude metamorphosis
Or one that speaks to its own irrelevancy as
the pattern on the kitchen floor

From monuments high
On pillars of stone
She stands alone
Her gaze

Her features
Her sensual body set in stone
Frome granite stone
Her gaze fixed

She stands
For all to see
Model set in stone For she is the attraction
The model for all to see