Last Commented Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

An old farmhouse and a fan in the window
The sun is just rising and sunlight is falling
Onto the kitchen floor
Biscuits and gravy are waiting on the table
Rolled up sleeves washed hands
A life I knew from the cradle amen
And the only thing that needs to be said
Is being said by the fan in the window
And off in the distance is the sound of an old pickup truck
And this is good mighty good Lord thank you for waking me up
The dishes will soon be done and work is just outside the door
And when dinner time rolls around the fan in the window
Will seem a little quieter cause we are talking more

Press Your Luck just came out this week on TV
I used to watch it back in the 80s
One guy actually figured out the pattern to the Whammy board
He won 110,237 dollars
If you don't hit a Whammy you keep getting more money and prizes
But if you hit a Whammy you lose everything
Hit four Whammies and you are out of the game
This guy kept hitting the 5,000 and an additional spin which kept him going
Now they have larger prizes and the show is an hour long
So the person that wins gets to win additional more in a bonus round
Another show that is new is Holey Moley, a minigolf game
Card Shark is another one brought back from the 80's
In this one you simply have to guess higher or lower than the face card
If you have an ace it is simply lower, unless it is the same card
In the old game you lost nothing, in this one you lose whatever you bet
I still watch Jeopardy after James Holzhauer lost after winning 131,127
Just in one show, and racked up over 2 million in total
I also enjoy Family Feud

A pleasant sound

Ruffle in the leaves

A nest of birds

Built in the eaves

A slight creak

Rocks my chair

Its arm rests worn

Smooth with wear

A thousand days

Maybe a hundred years

An eternity of time

Many laughs and tears

A fleeting moment

Lost in memory lane

A soft whistle

Of a faraway train

A cup of coffee

Steams in my hand

A flavor in life

That’s oh so grand

A country morning

A mountain spring

A great blue sky

Makes my heart sing

A quietness alone

Seeking solitude

A peaceful mind

Fills with gratitude

Down down downhill
Spinning spinning tricycle wheels
Jumping houses, jumping trees
Brakes somewhere out of reach
Carried by breeze like a free flying witch

Down down down the hill
Spinning spinning spinning wheels
That felt like it lasted forever maybe...
A miracle happened I could not foresee
My father was there to grab hold of me

It's morning and the street lights are still on.
The road is resting it's back while the cars sleep in their driveways.

Foot-free footpaths mirror the road.
Unlike them, I'm wide awake - but I share in their peace.

on a spring time morn
was wonder born
a strange fluke cut
the sky

from eddied hair
a magic stare
told me that truth
can't lie

a girl who smiled
from a face so wild
my breath did leave
my mind

I somehow knew
that girl was you
and to nature
I was blind

in a wheelhouse stark
both bright and dark
her eyes they light
the way

a rippling whirl
midst seas that churn
all darkness
ran astray

my nets that trawl
her song and call
a creature
made of prayer

you can take my life
my boat my knife
but she
is always there

on a spring tide morn
her currents warm
I never
saw her more

yet I heard her song
all coast along
the inlets
speak her name

Every year we get to volunteer on company time
For four hours we get paid to go somewhere else
So this year I went to my old school in Dickeyville, Wisconsin
I went there from 1974 to 1981 from kindergarten to sixth grade
We dug up sod along a drive way to put in black plastic and pebbles
I had a crush on the woman who was now the librarian at this place
It is no longer a school and is a library and office for the police department
I went back to this school when it was still a school in 1991
Then I was taking a college class that required me to observe a teacher
My old teacher Mr. Taylor
Then in 1992 I did my kindergarten teaching there
A child died in a fire the first week I was there on Friday, Janurary 17
I went there once a long time ago to look at the library
But for the most part I haven't been to this school in over 27 years

In childhood, as granny pummelled dough,
I used to play in sun's dust-moted ray
While she would ask me, " do a dance for me?"
Then I would gather dreams from near and far
And twirl around because she loved me. So
I felt as if her home was Shangri-la.

My granny's house was always Shangri-la
On those warm Sundays, while she made bread dough
For farmer's sons, who'd eat a loaf or so
Each day, while watching weather for sun ray
or rain, that in this climate ne'er was far.
It never mattered either way to me.

She'd sing a verse or two and then ask me
To do my party piece in Shangri-la.
These memories now seem so very far
Since granny lilted while she proved the dough.
Then as we'd wait, we'd walk in sun's last ray
Across the meadows, then she's hug me so

I'd know we had a bond. I loved her so.
Then back again, just letting me be me,
She'd take the dough and put it in the "Ray"
To cook the loaves that scented Shangri-la,
That new-bread smell that wafted from the dough
Which drew her friends and neighbours, near and far.

The cousins and the uncles lived quite far.
They walked there,all a-suited,looked just-so.
For Sunday evenings and the smell of dough
Brought promises that cheered both them and me.
All sang and danced and drank in Shangri-la
Until the mountains let through dawn's first ray.

When granny'd take more bread out of the "Ray"
To feed the ones who had to walk so far,
To see them on their way from Shangri-la.
My family would also go and so
Gran 'd put some sugar on some bread for me
So I'd not cry, and miss that smell of dough.

To see the sun's ray or to smell some dough,
My dreams still stretch far, bring all back to me,
I find Shangri-la, and it comforts so...

I'm real gone like the sixty blues
Change came along but I said refuse
Cause I dig the sixties still walking in my shoes

It's a beat like hey man here's the jive
You know everybody knows it's hip to be alive
Living life is a work of art
Paint by day and be cool lovers after dark

There's a gig on up the street
And strangers don't find it strange to tap their feet
If a girl calls my name
She's gotta know the sixty blues is my game

If you forgot it I brought it back
While your spinning your tires I'm digging my flat
People read the paper then they blow their fuse
But I'm never uptight with the sixty blues

Maybe I could write a book
And then once I got everybody hooked
Cats would be saying hey man this ain't no jive
You know everybody knows it's hip to be alive

Symphony of onions sizzling.
Burnt sausages sing
under blood-red sauce.
A hymn of a hotdog
guzzled in greasy-chinned relish.
Pink riffs of candy floss
floating on splintery sticks.
Dirge of diesel engines pumping
Cliff and Elvis music thumping.
Rides and slides, twirling, swirling
Improbable coconut shies.
'Rifles! Rifles! Shoot to kill,'
Hear the barker's cries.
Tailored Teddy boys sport their quiffs
to stilettoed girls ripe for a feel and a squeal,
suspenders flying, knickers revealed.