Here is a list of Nostalgia Poems ordered by Last Commented, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Nostalgie
I will run
Through the snow,
Not touching the ground,
Leaving
Barely a trace...
I will stop near your windows,
All my memories will return
When I come back.
When I will come back
I will go to the house,
Where the smell
Of fresh bread
Reminds me of times
Long gone
And will tear at my heart
When I come back....
When I will come back,
The nightingales will sing
That old lingering
Nearly forgotten tune.
And I will fall
Defeated
By my own return
If I will come back…
About this poem:
It is all about living far away from the place where you was born and spent your childhood....
2020
in the cover of the night
music
and street dances.
He came
with a shot of traffic jams
hugs
and good luck wishes.
He came
when I was sleeping alone
offering
restful sleep.
A Place
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
About this poem:
Deprsession and how those caught in the trap desperately try to escape.My first poem for three years, trying to start again.
Winter
see snowflakes.
Like ballerinas dancing
to inaudible music.
People wrapped
in colorful scarves
wandering
through the streets of the city.
They go to homes
to warm hands
in the bonfire of love.
I look out the window
my hands
are still cold.
Window
stray clouds are starting to argue.
The heavy rain is crying with tears
washing the windows of my memories.
When I look at the window
fuzzy faces from the past
are rolling in my head
I can't forget them.
When I look at the window
I hang in the reflection of the face
which I know and seems alien.
When I look at the window
my days are leaking
through a sieve with large holes.
When I look at the window ...
Chrysalis
never thinks of herself as a beauty
but she knows that
what will become
inevitable.
She's waiting
until the right time comes
pupation time.
Chrysalis
will never impress with its appearance
no one will look
at her any longer
poets will not write about her.
She's waiting.
Metamorphoses
are an element of existence.
Days
though not a single tear
does not run down the cheek.
There are words
that are born in bitterness,
though they will never be said.
There are moments
of great loneliness
although it is full of people.
There are cloudy days,
full of rain
and one would like
to sink into their streams.
There is a time
when you want to find yourself
but don't know where to look.
The Circle of Life
Wind blew Me the Wrong Way
I lost My Direction
It sent Me out to Bay
So I decided to follow the Sun
First to the east, then to the west
Back where I began,wasn't much fun
I followed My Heart and found Love
Getting older Year by Year
At last I was Flying like a Dove
I Was Married with Children
Now a Grandfather, They are doing so well
Children grown and Wife has gone away
As many more Years pass by
I feel I am back where I began
Stranded, right back out at Bay
Never knowing what Tomorrow will bring
Trying to keep up my cheer
I try to Laugh, Dance, Pray, and Sing
Every Day and Every Year
About this poem:
Life just seems to be an endless circleNever knowing from day to day
I've been Reading in Poetry
So I decided to write another one
My first one in a few Years
Hotrodlarrys
Rain
in heavy rain
seeking relief.
I thought it would be easier
when will wash away my desires
I wanted to wash my longing
remove all defeats
forget the past
quench my sorrows.
I washed my hair with streams
to be a more greener
and dried them with the wind
blowing from the sea.
I took rain drops
in the vessel of my hands
and I watered my lips
let water protect them.
And for a moment I forgot
about all my life
listening to rain drops
washing my body secretly.
Vanishing
like a broken leaf
swirling in gusts of joy.
Indian summer turns
a thin thread,
and autumn comes to my heart.
Color palette,
fog in the meadows at
dawn in the morning
and nostalgia and some regrets
that time passes
that I will not stay
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