Most Liked Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

Tell what secret you own?
What is so mad, I love you.
Tell what secret you own?
That without you already, I can't.
Tell what secret you own?
That you dream often at night.
Tell what secret you own?
That I ceased calls friends.
Tell what secret you own?
That I lost the rest.
Tell what secret you own?
That a shadow you go for me.

About a year ago I was stood up
I thought I had a date, and all was fine.
I'd gone to Bradbury Pub I had up cups
To meet a girl I thought who would be mine
For a date that night - when do I have enough?
Or was I just another man in line?
Though I've had enough of Plenty of Fish*
Easy to meet on there? oh how I wish!

The night was chill - the middle of the winter
I was drawn away from my nice warm hearth.
When the girl didn't show - t'was like a splinter
Had been driven right into my open heart.
T'was a tavern where I'd gone to meet her
So in this tavern is where my story starts.
The pub (as I've noted) was in Bradbury
A nice suburban place for company.

Saturday night;- the inn was rather crowded
(The usual crowd in outer suburbia).
On this dark night, the suburb now enshrouded,
While within were patrons - some the worse for wear.
With each beer, my mind became more clouded
Two hours had almost past - where was she - where?
Well maybe some other lucky man has scored
(I was thinking) as I looked up at the tote board.

Saturday night trots- they were at Menangle
The pub (as most do) had a TAB.
I hadn't come to bet;- the odds to wrangle
(And all I wanted was some company).
I hadn't planned, with the tote to tangle
(Though it seem'd there was a horse there just for me).
Well-performed;- a real strong "son of a gun"
I couldn't believe it said "fifteen to one".

Well, I had bought two hundred dollars with me
Enough (I thought) for a taxi, and some drinks
Though now it seemed, there wouldn't be a lady
So I'll have a bet and then leave (methinks).
Well, the horse strode clear - and won - it was pay day
(To me this horse was just as good as Winx).^
With ten each way, I'd won two hundred dollars
So who needs thoroughbreds,- and Chris Wallers?

Two hundred that I'd bought was now one fifty
(That's give or take seven or eight cold beers)
And with two hundred won, was now three fifty
I collected at the tote, and told them "cheers".
Well now I'm pissed, and thinking kinda shifty
I throw caution to the wind and lose my fears
And did something I'd rarely do when sober
That's play the "slots" and turn the money over.

Americans call 'em slots - that's our pokies
And I (for one) wouldn't recommend to you
This mode of gaming I'd call "hokey pokey"
(Put your money in;- and you're mostly screwed).
You think you're gonna win? Well, are you joking?
(Your currency, it slips fast out of view).
Electronic farce, and tricks,- deceit and lies
They'll steal the pennies from your granny's eyes.

I guess I played that night 'cause I was miffed
Being lured all that way to the boondocks.
Being left all alone, and being stiffed
It serves me right for thinking with my c*ck.
My mood was low, and wouldn't seem to lift
(I expected the machine'd take all I've got).
When suddenly that slot began to feature
Well, ain't Lady Luck a funny creature?

To cut the story short, I won two thousand!
And decided to take the money, there,- and run.
I collected the fat wad which I trousered
Then thought I might go out and buy some fun.
Hailing a taxi cab (which I then ordered)
"Take me to the House of the Rising Sun
Well Aussie cabs are silver, and not yellow
And by the Rising Sun- I mean Bordello.

The house of ill repute,- of which I speak
Was one a fair distance from my home
I'll not "name names",- and though the flesh is weak
It's better than going home pissed and alone.
Once inside I felt as must feel a sheik
Being pampered in a room of one's own
A private room,- if only for one hour
The lady's name was "Carla"- a sweet flower.

The flower of which I speak, was from Asia
Her English not so good;- It didn't matter
When tasting all the forms of love's fantasia
One doesn't ask for elocution's chatter
Well, there's no more room now, on the page here
For me to go, and further tell of Carla
Beautiful? Yes - though a lady of the night
I'd been stood up - though it turned out alright

seven years old
untapped talent
passion
even then
do you remember?

we met and
with every scale
i touched
88 generations of
my past
my future
they were all familiar
and loved me
as i loved them

with every chord
the whole world
became more faint
thundering applause
a whisper
never a desire
to return
my joy and comfort
with you
as you translate
to the world
the melodies of my heart
my soul

no dance
close and slow
fast and spaced
compares to
my dances with you
i reach for you
you receive me
welcome me
accept me
take whatever i give
and ask only
for a song
in return

you are not
forgotten
life's pain
despair
lonliness
bitterness
never held me

you never let me go
my old, dear friend
my piano

once you came to me
your style of heart
gave all for free
I thought you were free
when you told me
what you wanted to be
we used to stand
around counting time all we had
how we could never be sad
we might freeze in our form
was warm by our skin
souls traveled far
some endless rail we'd known
from some life years before
we knew not to will
it too far
too much for what we are
when you thought you could sing
to yourself for comfort and make
me believe my own lies
and ours never dies
it is always beyond
what we used to reach for
until we part at the shore
waves receding always
many different ways
leaving the still shore
for you to walk singing
your memories
once in awhile
but mostly it's always sunset
or you've forgotten the other
times of day
how long since it's been
since you wished me washed away

****

once, upon a time, in the past -
book of memory -
were white and colorless .
-
but the years passed, and disappeared, tantivy .
-
pages of memory book -
one by one, were filled, by bitter & sweet events .
-
but today -
the sweetest moments, being created, by reading, the words of the memory -book
-
memories, getting old -
but the beauty of old memories, colouring mysteriously, our present days .
*******

*
******
*
the being :: is just, a mysterious game
****
moments of life :: are disappearing, tantivy
****
years of being :: galloping, & passing by us
****
eyes stare :: astonishingly, how time passing
****
everyone :: walking, towards, the end
****
we all :: are, just a handful, soundless, losers
****
what we lose :: through this short path of life -
**
((((((( it is the life, itself ))))))

*
quietly, standing, behind, my window
**
no, any sound, being heard
***
except, drops of rain, which, touching softly, my small window
****
quietness of my home, with droplets of rain, taking me, to the world of wishes
*****.
once again, along with, endless passion, i close my eyes
******
i wish, i was, weightless, as clouds
*
i wish, i was, a flying bird, in the sky
**
i wish, i was, free & floating, as a sea wave
***
i wish, i was, in my mother's hug, as a newborn, child
****
i wish, i was, as an angel, in arms, of my lord
*****
i wish, i was, as a wish, in another heart
******
*********
***
*

I started out in the late 70's with a radio and a hand held tape recorder
Then at Christmas 1982 I got a record player with tape recorder and 8-track
Then in 1999 I bought a CD player and compact discs
I bought an XBOX in 2004 and put CDs into digital form on it
Then today I successfully stored songs on my first MP3 player
It was motivated by a friend who lost their satellite radio
So tonight I will try to play it in their car and on my wireless speaker at home
I have bought many tapes, many cds
I have listened to some great music
Most of it coming out last century
Ed Sherran is the only artist of the last three years to make a song I like
Castle on the Hill

The house is so silent, no men, no kids, no pets
Four walls to listen to the sound of my regrets
My memories they linger when I close my eyes
Those wonderful days when I was so wise
The cry of a baby, the sound of the door
The cats, the dogs, the children
Running round the floor
All of them gone now, the house is so still
I turn up the music the silence to kill
My friends and my lovers no longer around
I look at the phone it ne'er makes a sound
But all is not lost from my hopes and my dreams
I sometimes imagine some magical schemes
Of places to go to and great food to eat
Of wonderful lovers and people to meet
So silence abounds but for only a while
And if I try very hard I can muster a smile
Is silence a sound or a feeling inside?
Tell me, I'll listen, with my eyes open wide.....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Time is ticking, passing yet repeating
A clock works 24/7, yet not same any second
Twelve noon is bright someplace, midnight it is in else
Every hour rings a bell, reminding future very well
A minute passed goes in memory, to alwaz tell a story
On the wall or on wrist, life taking many twists
For a pauper or a king, time is same not the moment
Every second an old dies, and a new born cries
An 'on-time' habit is good, just like a flight
'Just-in-time' is precious, can save a life
Can we stop and be a witness, of beyond time
There's timelessness awaiting, know it .. by experience