Most Liked Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

In this life we live
We must learn to give
We must be selfless
Practice it till it becomes effortless
It takes some effort on our part
We wouldn't make it if we never start
Sometimes we must give in
No, it's not about who's gonna win
Or who committed the mortal sin
It's about growing up
In life, learning will never stop
We must learn from life's experiences you see
Because it's inherent to our maturity

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.

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

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...

Pass quietly between the noise and the prey and remember the Peace that can be in the Silence. As far as possible, without lowering yourself, you have good relations with everyone. Say what you think courteously and clearly, listen to others, even the bored and the ignorant, also they have a story. Avoid loud and aggressive people: they are exhausting for the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you risk becoming vain or bitter, because there will always be those who are better and worse than you. Rejoice with your successes and also with your projects. Keep your interest in your profession, however humble; is a true heritage in the changing fortunes of time. Act prudently in your affairs, for the world is full of snares; but do not let that blind you to the virtue which also exists; many people fight for noble ideals and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Above all, do not pretend in affection. Do not be unique about love, because in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as eternal as the grass. Take good advice from the years, giving you a smile from the things of youth. Cultivate the strength of spirit, to protect yourself against unexpected misfortunes. But do not torment yourself with the shadows that surround you: many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond sound discipline, be patient with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees or the stars; You have the right to be here. And whether this is clear or not for you, no doubt that in Peace with God, however you conceive it and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the midst of the noisy confusion of existence, it maintains peace of mind. With all the alternatives, frustrations and shattered dreams, it's still a wonderful World. Be cheerful and strive to be happy.

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

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

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.

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

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