Most Viewed Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

“Out of my window is a rapid, blending and a dilute blur of present and a bygone past. Inside my mind is a rapid shifting blur of present and future. Practical irony in motion."

towered sentries a hundred years old stood in silence as the troughed wheel continued it's stationary journey allowing only the stream to pass.... four seasons at a time.... occasional romance blossomed.... a squeak an grind from time to time from within as the wooden gears an steel axles pursued the wheel.... even the trout haven'd the pools the wheel kept alive . . . . as this time was grist to the mill ~

Sunday morning 1965
Author: serpico12
(IMG]http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x373/bridger777/64609.jpg

Sunday morning in the country
hear the birds the dawn chorus sing
breaks the silence of a new day
wondering what the day will bring

church in the village standing tall
hear the sound of bells a ringing
as they welcome and they call
all to come and worship their God

Once I lived by Oman's seas,
with time and tides consistency,
her sun-drenched shores in golden span,
where Mohammed ne'er has changed his plan.
How heaven looks on in starry smiles
upon her balmy, tropic pearly ilses
and Arabian tales its teller tells,
along her blue-lit water swells,
in all its pedestrian faultlessness
live humble origins of happiness,
where no subtle devious laws apply;
for eye is taken for an eye,
honour's pride, a deed that's taught,
more precious, than life caught
in fine silks or woven tapestries.
For knowingly, stolen truth deceives
with false words, human dignity
profits not greed's profanity,
that with malevolent ease spermed
detested rape and virtue to carnage turned.
Mecca's eastern temple's soft embrace
counsel prayers, richer life may trace
to seek, not youth's custom bold
of stars in vain that only heaven hold.
Good earthly minds with virtue fill,
mastering low passion's prolific ill,
save gluttonous fools, whose greatest store
is wanting abundance more and more,
vast grown in jewelled- bespeckled misery,
focus only silvered coins treachery.
Scales of justice there bestow
judgement, the rapier strikes its blow,
handed down from ageless time
behoves the scales of justice divine.
Thus doyen and sweet child
breathe Arabian soft perfumes mild;
oft thy pleasured memories I will draw
upon, all that my eager eyes once saw,
vaults of memory, thou for me have made
to light the dull edge of black day.

Verse I

Recalling prohibition days,
When he was just a kid.
Mom said, "Hide! There's bullets flyin!"
So that's just what they did.
The war waged on for three long days,
Fought o'er a moonshine still.
Gunshots heard through window screens,
As they hid neath the sill.


Chorus

It was the roaring twenties and,
The Tommy guns did roar.
The blood flowed with the whiskey as,
The Reaper kept the score.
Though long ago, the legend still,
Lives on forevermore,
Of the great St. Louis massacre,
Of nineteen twenty-four.


Verse II

When finally all the shooting stopped,
The kids just had a ball,
Through blood-stained streets they ran to dig.
The bullets from the wall.
No way of telling now or then,
How many fought and died.
Neath grandstands of the greyhound track,
The bodies they did hide.


Verse III

This tale is true, as told to me,
My father was that lad.
His childhood had this one bright spot,
Though much of it was sad.
Seems strange to think a shooting spree,
Could somehow bring such joy.
Excitement coursed right through the veins,
Of that scared little boy.

Far too hot


It’s late at night but its far too hot
To sleep I try, fan can’t stop
This is not a midnight summer dream
Of waters where a moon light seen
Of cicada’s song and crickets chirp
Of lovers seats in parks to flirt
Of Cars parked in secluded spots
Of gardens full of forget me nots
It’s just too hot to sleep tonight
Up I get with poems to write
Thoughts come quick, thoughts go fast
Type I do before they pass
But alas my skill is far too low
The rhyming lines start to slow
Flickering light of the TV set
May chance my luck on the internet
Lids are heavy, eyes not bright
This is my chance to sleep tonight
Jump off the seat quick to bed
No time to waste, rest my head
Finally I drop to sleep,
With sweaty hands, sweaty feet
Work tomorrow must be bright
Another midnight summer plight!

Sometimes I sit and wonder about things that some may never think.
Like where does the water go when it goes down the sink.
I now know.
It seems wondering helps one to grow.
Sometimes I sit and day dream.
About things that may never be.
Picnicking by a stream.
Just you and me.
There is never no face in my dream.
Just a feeling to be met.
Sometimes I go in a room to retrieve something.
I am there but what for I forget.
Sometimes I feel as if I am young and full of life.
Sometimes I feel as if the end is near.
I am no ones wife.
No ones dear.
Sometimes all these things really matter.
Sometimes I just don't care.
Sometimes I am in such control.
Sometimes I am just the mad hatter.
There are many thoughts and feelings that live here.
So many dreams and wonders residing in me.
Today I woke up feeling good just for the sake of feeling good.
I know the feeling want last.
There are many feelings I need to feel.
To make me who I am, a woman moving forward.
Not living in the past.

Last night I dream about a dream about you
Didn’t know how and why it had to be about you
Last time I saw you was three years ago
But still in my dreams you linger oh

I asked myself all these questions
“How did you happen?”
“Where’d you come from”
And “why are you happening with me”?

That dream I dreamt felt so real
A beautiful sweet kiss from me you steal
Your soft lips had a very special feel
But that all ended, oh well..

Now I’m asking all these questions
“Why did you have to happen
"Why did you have to come in sight”
Pinch me, I don't wanna dream about you again tonight.

The quiet of the evening was settling.
In the distance I could hear a radio playing an old song.
It was the time of day when parents were readying children to bed.
My thoughts seemed to suffocate me.
Everything seemed so right, but for me so wrong.
All those thoughts in my head.
Running around free.
Nothing to stop them from turning into shadows in the night.
Haunting me relentless in their plight.
I just wish there was a knob.
Where just maybe.
I could turn it off or change the channel.
I feel as if the peace I felt had been robbed.
And the past once again came to live with me.

I have found a witch
that is pretty and smart
she is very outgoing
pleasant and talkative
Always there to lend a helping hand
She does not have a long nose
or a wart and a long thin chin
In a matter of fact
she is beautiful and sexy
she likes opera
and she loves Shakespeare
she likes to recycle
and she is constantly reading
Their are ghost at my home
They ring the bell
They knock on the door
You can see them at night
If you look in the mirror
There are voices male and female
laughing and crying
It is an emotional roller coaster
I would not have it any other way
The extra terrestrial is here
I can feel her presence
She is a happy person
Always laughing
Just wandering lost and dazed
However it is a wonderful world