Most Liked Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

There's doubtless beauty in plain truth,
gold spun above the stars own roof,
serving thus, make false words uncouth
that web of conceit, lace woven guile aloof,
Truth bows not down to manipulated lies,
'tis but pen scribed, by timeless poetic laws,
embodies the stoic heart, straight limb applies,
antique written, unblemished without flaws,
oft by pomposity called naive simplicity,
yet dignifies love for mans own common good,
nurturing fond realms of strong brotherhood,
illustrates well,virtues simplistic integrity,

Truths own truth, sacred, incalculable,
free life's shackles by love unquestionable

Sometime ago...
Don't remember when...
I tried to end myself...

Almost succeded...
But outside intervention prevented
my goal to be fullfilled.

I was brought back
Against my will
To a world and to a life I did not chose.
And for which i do not care.

For the few minutes I was down
I was truly happy
Wherever I was
Between this world and the other one
I was happy, content.
I knew everyone I cared about was allright.

Is this loud and bright world
that is true hell for me.
THIS is hell.

Not beautiful, it wasn't that.
Alive, unbarren as a childheavy woman,
She could unscar me if I was loose.

I was the good but dangerous student.
I wore a smashed look for the whole semester.
Everything said hopeless, which glued her.

The leather wrapped around her legs like a song.
Smoke clung to my fingers, browning them,
While she tongued Dante in bold Italian.

I couldn't take a drag or look.

The twang of strings from a distant guitar strumming meticulously, tingled her eardrums.
The climb to her task seemed to stretch for miles.
Hesitation
Perspiration sparkled on her brow.
On top at last the wind swept across and through the fabric that was wearing her.
Instant security overcame her loins then it started
Movement beneath her slow and calculating.
She ran her fingers through her locs, she was feeling free.
The strumming in the distance intensified below her back and forth up and down.
She rolled her tongue over the glossy lipstick on her upper lip.
Where was she?
Whistling, cheering, moisture was developing.
The rhythm underneath her was firmer, swifter.
Her breathing heavier, faster, faster, deeper, deeper, up and down, around.
She felt around her,
The touch something leather.
She opened her eyes, a saddle, lights up down, back, forth; calmer; eyes wider.
The ride on the mechanical bull had come to an end amongst a crowd cheering and applauding.

Alas! long since flown Springs warm scented hours,
hand in hand with her thirst quenching showers;
unforgiving time gave way to Summer's sun, to infuse
the carnival of dawn's web drenched misty dews,
reborn from slumber, days new vibrant atmosphere
invite free migrant swallows, to flit and steer
their fleet of flight o'er the crisp blue sky,
weaving wonderment to the awe enraptured eye,
where floats the frolic wind, both bold and debonair,
intoxicates the eager pen, with brazen prowess, dare
word paint the unseen breeze in antique poetry,
Ah!, such were those days of youthful revery.

Fond Autumnal hues, now spill kisses o'er the terrain,
caressing soft the ripening fruit and golden grain,
yet warm remains the wind, that forever weaves
symphonic music, to rustle thru' the once green leaves,
embroidered by red golden tints in profusion found,
as with the coloured carpets rich seasonal ground,
such the Autumnal wealth, that in quietude bless the land,
tint textured sown, by natures creative caring hand,
as hymns of joy orchestrate her heavenly craft in praise,
an annual resolution kept in countenance, our senses to amaze,
much as celestial climes where starry magic e'er prevail
and where dance in incandescent light the comet's blazing trail.

Thus into Winter my contented soul retire,
reflecting warmth, gathered by past seasons fire,
thus I sowed and reaped the harvest of my days,
scribed my muse and reveled in its praise,
braved winds, oft whose breath ill fortune blows,
yet each gale, transient as the desert snows,
thro' life's journey endured many a weary mile,
't'is better borne, when we upon its burdens smile
along that rugged unkempt road of life, oftimes leads
to a beautiful destination, flower paved by our stoic deeds,
so, close not the curtain upon Winters fragile sun,
for dare we choose, our days can still be fun.

Yes, I am something of a scoundrel
Though I have been forced
To be one
Through nature
And circumstance.

Through early grinding poverty
And a childhood
That would rip out your heart.

I am Virgo -
My ruler Mercury
Number 14 my birth date
(That's 5 in Numerology)

I am a gambler
Because of my nature
And of necessity

I am a gambler
For money.

I am a gambler
For love.

Money comes and goes
In a flash
And goes
And comes again

Women
They've been many.
(They seem to come and go also).

This is Mercury operating again
(Through conjunction with Venus I suspect).

I have only loved twice
The first time wrung
The last drop of blood out of my heart
When we broke up.

The second time much later
(More like domesticity)
Genuine affection nonetheless
For eight years of contentment
Which ended for reasons
Which I will not describe here.

I've never cheated
In these relationships

Now I am much older
Women still fascinate me.

Will I ever find "the one"?
Maybe it's third time lucky?
Who knows?

I have my faults
We all have our faults.

I make no apology
For what I am.
My poetry anthology

Describes my life
For what it is*



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Of all the sickly forms of verse,
Commend me to the triolet.
It makes bad writers somewhat worse:
Of all the sickly forms of verse,
That fall beneath a reader's curse,
It is the feeblest jingle yet.
Of all the sickly forms of verse,
Commend me to the triolet.

Of all the diff'rent forms of verse,
I demand the use of triolet.
To take a form of little use .... that will be terse:
Of all the diff'rent forms of verse,
That endear to me this simple verse,
It is the strong thought......but yet..
Of all the diff'rent forms of verse,
I demand the use of triolet.

Missing Manitoba
Xmas Season
Craving yakisoba

This is the first Saturday of the year
And I have the day off
I am so glad because last year
I drove in the snow
And slid my car into a curb at work
And spent 660 dollars to get it fixed
I had to work some other year
Where we only worked two hours
And get some stupid meeting before we could get out of Dodge
Today I put my tree away and all my Christmas decorations
I also cleaned out my oven
Because I cooked a turkey way back in November
And the juices ran out onto the bottom of my oven
I should have cleaned it right away
Because I cooked a pizza the other day
And had old turkey smell in my apartment
Gross!
So tonight I will go watch some hockey fights
Maybe get lucky and get hit by a puck
It has been 24 years since the last puck hit me in my shoulder
Eat some pizza
Drink some pop
Watch my dvrs and see if the Lions won tonight

From monuments high
On pillars of stone
She stands alone
Her gaze

Her features
Her sensual body set in stone
Frome granite stone
Her gaze fixed

She stands
For all to see
Model set in stone For she is the attraction
The model for all to see