Most Liked Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

The Quotes Garden
Part I – Beginning


Here it is!..
My famous place,
From all the gardens I created, along time...



There’re plates, behind each alley I would miss..
In case my dreams, one day, before I die,
Will tear apart...
Only shadows, left behind, instead my friends -
Who twisted senses of my heart,
In moments of despair ...



There must be thorns of roses,
Embracing death – and clear sun,
And life, with petals, in the faded falling;
They came along
with piece of graved stone, behind my tomb,
And Heaven standing like a fortress,
- only witness to my once upon a time, a lair..



I rather die alike an artist! -
Surrounded by thee ART, which makes me feel alive
And
every breath I take, is sweeping verses,
with death from life – which dwells fresh air,

Which fills my lungs with my despair
And
each morning – is a mourning full of joy...



I open the eyes of my restless soul,
But then, alike a shadow,
I vanish, in the mist -
Forgotten by the human heart, within the second I should die,
Along with every sufferance – divine feast!..

I’ve taken a joy away, in the darken past,
And
I saw my death, in the chair...



I’m waiting clouds to come,
more faster than in rhymes, my twisted verses,
Like Heaven’s waterfall,
- from where it rises in my dreams,
My golden harp, under rainbow -
Reminding me.. once more...
That ..
Was upon a time...
An artist…



Should I now talk in riddles,
So I may hide my desire of freedom,
Freedom of a locked soul,
Inside a cruel world? !
Or, must be there my sins,
Alike some darken secrets,
Drying each part of me,
Until one day..
I am no more? !



Or better..talk in quotes,
Repeating senses of the many artists
Which found a refuge inside art?
But there’s no place to hide..
Those green.. emotions..
And neither enough words
As for defining, truly,
What is ART!..



I ask myself sometimes
If ART is pain into advanced scenes of battle
- of oneself -
Or if it’s merely like a longing for a Heaven -
Which for example, I haven’t found It in myself;

Or maybe just like other artists,
As much desire have for death,
As even Death, doesn’t need me anymore,
Alike the muses, think that charming me
With lovely whispers,
Will lead me soon to touch
With thirsty lips,
Their divine breasts...


But nor declared love, nor written words of love in vain
Shall not be mentioned, along my paths to glory, over death,
But only truth, would be alike my oath, - in verse, my breathe
To be.. alike I am... to never change... to be the same...

©Th3Mirr0r

that shady peace within that we did wander as frail mortals be
among the wise non seeing eyes that smiled at our tranquillity.

steep green assent of rustling leaves, speckled sunlight through the trees, children at play, a far off view, memories and thoughts anew.

a span of time wisdom unfolds a twist of fate mine might now hold to kiss the dew on halloed ground such gentle capture found.
George.w.dye 1979

Sumer noon
In my home in Malabar
In this dusty winding roads
Piercing the heart of the village
Wind across the mountain
Blowing hot and red
Swaying arc nut palms
And coconut trees
Like the dance of goads
Carrying the fragrance of
Dried hay and parched earth
Sway across cashew groves
Kids under a Mango tree
Wanting mangos rain
Resting after a days swim
In the village pond
Sun shines high on
Empty paddy fields
Turing them Golden fields
Once swollen might river
Now a string of water patches
Glowing like drops of pearls
In the scotching sun
Women with shining eyes
With their giggling bangles
Washing cloths and carrying pots
Men in pristine white
Rest under the banyan tree
Watching the “theyyams” passing by
With drummers tranquilizes their
Worries of the life.
Soccer players and cricket games
For the evening to go
Somewhere a horn bill cry
With a call from mosque
And a chant from a kovil
Breeze kisses my face
As sky turn crimson
A summer noon in
Malabar village Passes by
vanishing in the lingering twilight

you speak to me in certain circumference of

yet not knowing ever the distance

not to even ask the real grated

upon the beauty
of link

to
wave my hand
i understood

leave not a woe
sit
like me
gush the feel, it was a time

a miss is strength upon the wave
foremost

stranger
coming in with the tide

Kisses!
To Kiss and hold your baby tenderly
As it greets the world with it’s new born wondrous cry

To Kiss your child as it grow up in life
A Kiss of pride as they find a husband or a wife

To kiss your family as they kiss you
Oh! What a wonderful thing to do!

To kiss a friend as you first meet
whether at the door or on the street

To Kiss the song of love to someone
that was special ~ granted to you from above

Someone that you were meant to love

To Kiss and hold your lover passionately
Especially when that someone special might be me

To kiss a loved one’s memory when
they die

It’s filled with Love but it cannot stop a painful cry!

For all you good people out their in poet land

Kisses for you because I think you’re grand!

Written by
~ The Kissing Bandit ~
JimEee

Come gather round the campfire mates and listen for a while,
And I'll tell you all the story of the man who never smiled.
He was somewhat of a rover, and his friends all called him John
He hailed from southern New South Wales, a place called Wollongong.

Well he finished up in Queensland where he met this bird named Jean
And together then the pair set out to do the Brisbane scene.
But within a month she left him, stony broke, without a cent
With nothing but a memory,(and a bill for two weeks rent!)

So further North, to Anakie, John chased his silver lining
On Queensland's famous sapphire fields he tried his hand at mining.
Well he made a quid at this new lurk, became a man of means
And with his new found wealth set out to find his love it seems.

Now he got as far as Rocky where he thought he'd stop a while
And took a job as fencer (just to help to pass the time.)
But alas, he didn't last long for he clocked the overseer
And it was round about this time he started on the beer.

Then his bird wrote him a letter asking him to come and get her
Up at Tully (she was with another bloke)
In the bar there at the station getting stuck into a ration
Of Bacardi. (That's the stuff they drink with Coke.)

Well she went with him to Townsville and they found a little flat
And it seemed at last that things had turned out right
But again she up and left him while he was asleep (God rest him)
Not a single word, just vanished in the night.

Now poor old John just went to pieces and got stuck into the grog
For to him (at least) it seemed his life was over.
So he boozed up day and night, they say he looked a flamin'fright
It was a miracle if ever he was sober!

Some folk said that he was "queer"while others blamed it on the beer
And it's 20 years (they say) now since he smiled
He had made and spent a fortune on a bird who had ignored him
I tell you mates, women! Just ain't worth your while.

Well I guess I'd better leave now as I've still a ways to go
Destination? I don't really know, I'm following my nose
So I guess I'll see you round mates as I've stayed here far too long
What's my name you ask? I thought you knew, it's John..from Wollongong.

When we were young and reckless
Our hearts tripped
Across broken midnight
And stolen gold.

Walking in the city
Late one night
I saw traffic light reflections
On wet cobblestones.

The neon and hot amber
Of the summer's night
Rain-slicked red/green
Hues reflected
Cast me back in time-
We were in love then.

It all seems long ago
I walked through streets
Of the city night
When I loved you.

When things were
At their blackest
Adolescent meaning
You rescued me.

When all seemed hopeless
Or too hard
You appeared
In this first innocence, our love was.

And we are older now
We've lived an infinity
Of different lives
Still, I remember.

When two hearts
In their first
Flush of youth
Find their trust.

Be glad that we could love
Even once now
I think that I might know
What they mean by angels.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Did you hear that poor old John died? asked the swaggie of his mate
Somewhere up the North they tell me, he was in a sorry state.
It seems he was still searching for that bird he spoke about
And it was on some lonely highway his old ticker just gave out.

Yeah, I heard something about that Bill the other swaggie said
I never thought I'd live to hear the news that John was dead
For a stronger man I've never seen in all my roving days
Determined, grim and resolute, yet kind in all his ways.

Now it's time I hit the road mate, gotta make ten miles today
So I'll see you round the traps some time, good luck.oh by the way
I was passing where they'd buried John, Bill to his mate then said
And I chanced to see his marker, the inscription on it read

"There lies beneath this mound of earth a mate a bird done wrong
The victim of a broken heart was John..from Wollongong".

So you become the added poem

To reach the stilted maneuvered created crafted sway
of paths
that
can only leave a non reason to full
or drill down to your words

what crap you do
sigh light the world of task

that leaves no flex of joy
yet simmers coolness of smile

sweep your smile
dig your heart
that leaves just
more dirt

to pile upon
the leaning
sadness
of
shit

never to understand
that I too loved

You

Whatever happened to the good old days
When Hippies danced, and children played
Smelled the flowers in the morning light
Lived and loved all through the night

Where is the music, songs, the free
They bound us tight in security
No more singing, no more dance
We never really had a chance

What happened to that Hippie Glow?
Her hair that blew like driven snow
Snuffed out by church & religious creed
By hypocrites, who judge not free

Who are these people of today?
It’s not the children who once played
But Hip Hop, Rap, Debauchery
Why can’t you leave this Hippie be

I loved those days, those days of old
Of peace and love and stories told
For as a Hippie I was Free
I’ll still be one at 93!