Most Viewed Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

Hath not one touch heart,Its by glimpse only you....
Dwelth the corner for all,In you found some true.
And thou all generous felt,Why early did not make....
But was every night alone,And also the morn when wake.

And never thee one near all,May found as one likes....
Beneath the feet all stunned,you were like of so nice....
And thee flying up in clouds,thine feathers turned as wings....
And my heart got mend all,You are song i miss to sing.

TO ME; THEY ARE THE GREATEST ACTORS, OF OUR TIME!DENIRO, TAKES ON A ROLE, AND BECOMES THAT PERSON;WHILE, PACINO, TAKES ON A ROLE; WITHOUT REVERSIN!THEY HAVE BOTH HAD MANY UNFORGETTABLE ROLES!YOU LOOKIN AT ME?, SAID, DENIRO; WHILE PACINO SAID; I"M WALKIN HERE!WHEN THEY SPEAK; THEY ARE QUITE SINCERE!THERE WILL NEVER BE TWO GREAT ACTORS, LIKE; ROBERT AND AL!WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT NEW YORKERS; THOUGH YOU CAN NEVER FORGET; THE 911 STALKERS! YOU"LL MOST CERTAINLY; CRACK A SMILE!

My soul quickly tarries, spirit uneasy in sleep,
and stilled pen rest crooked upon the desk,
there is silence in the resounding echoes
of the memories becoming grotesque.

Yet upon the days birth I do wander,
fields of earthly scents confuse,
expansive blue oceans above
reflects lakes richest hues.

A sincere, sympathetic,
melancholy poet I am
waiting patiently,
impatient pen,

So the words
do now fade
as the pen
does fail.

Again.

~SAS~

Sitting so proud
a giver for all around

That green casserole dish
which I knew
held no fish

plonked in the center
no elbows on the table

Who says prayers
I thought
Lets tuck in
I am able


"For what we are about to receive"

The lid was lifted!
Oh! the smell
patiently waiting
my tummy could tell


sizing up my sisters plate
She's got more
but that was my fate

as each round of meat
I could now
so delicatley
dig and eat

I broke all rules
and swooped upon my delight!
with tiny hands ate and sucked

They ner not look at me
as they were the same as me!

stand me on the beer box!
dishes shall be no fear
I loved my oxtail stew

When my family was so near

Much spade has been dug
not to lay a body

but lay words of maybe a poet?
sifting through the remnants
gathering the now

throwing the words
ah, such words,

a transiant world we live
some of round floors
some of the open earth

the clock of time does not tick
one just knows
the momentum

the quill
can lay still
good

a mirror of reflection

All at times can be still

a wonder of restlessness
can beautifully awake

the poet
shall always be there
like a missing cookbook

I thought I knew how to knead those scones.

Hey I kneaded them my way



lol

Darkness...

You are not here.

Candle flame...
Reminder of you.

The mind looks for answers
Which not come.
Questions are digging
The soul
While dilemmas
Are growing the fog.

Memories, past, present,
Become fluid.
Intelligence.
It turns into nothing.

Looking the light.
Trying rescue inside.
I want to be strong
While crying with tears

of wax.

In my eyes, You can be anything,
a Poet or a King.
And though yet a Babe, so very small,
You are the very center of it all.
In my eyes, the sun surely rises-up through you,
as you greet a world so new.
And with each passing day, as I watch you grow,
I pray somehow, you will always know,
In my eyes, you shall forever be,
a most amazing, accomplishment to me.

Sand and sun and summer wind
Squinting into the Westward sun
Whitecaps rolling methodically in
Children laughing having tons of fun

Windsurfers in the hazy distance
Paragliders high in the warm breeze
I hesitate and stare an instance
Teenagers laugh with their main squeeze

Dogs on leashes kicking up course sand
Shoreline curls to North and South
Young lovers walking hand in hand
Stop and lock lips to others mouth

Distant land slowly fades to haze
Colourful umbrellas dot the shoreline
In the final throes of summer days
The sun sinks into the dark blue skyline

As I submerge and swim to shore
Relaxed in the cradle of waters embrace
I think of my happy days once more
As I kick and sever water of God's grace

Now as I walk wet sand between my toes
Clear water rippling just behind me
I glimpse one more time I suppose
To remember vividly all that I can see

I will sit in the far corner of life
Observing where it all came from,
And where it is going,
Allowing it to flow like a river through time
Touching but gently all that it passes.

All that is flowing through me
Leaving thought in its' wake
Touching me in a way
That it can touch no one else
And leaving me in a way
That changes me and it forever.

Life's precious hours, its fleeting foot denounce,
like as flowing rivers run, touched but only once,
leaves us wondering, those haste filled days of yore,
when in soft repose, bloomed Springtimes scented store,
perchance, could fate again ignite those moments rare,
or we with sullen impotence, at futures dark regions stare,
thus we dream, whence earth its flowered fragrance sprung
and languish long, when we, our love songs sung;
Alas! The pen alone dare challenge with poetic guise,
to chronicle time's passage, scribe what's considered wise;
Ah! wisdom, 'tis not self conceits that we in abundance find,
more oft, in quietude and peaceful realms of mind,
a kaleidoscope of tranquility within one's being found,
when, stand we firm, on Autumn's leaf coloured ground,
new salad days, no differing from that of Spring,
as thoughts of love, like matin bells softly ring,
author of our days relate with profanities charged quill,
to find this doyen heart lives in Springtime still.