Most Liked Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

The silence is thickening in and about me.
The need to be wandering out in the land envelopes me.
Reaching the door in what can only be described as staccato steps.
I linger and look back. No reason to stay.
Close the door and inhale the air of adventure.
I head down the path I have taken before.
Each time seeing different.
A flower glistening in the morning.
A bird calling out to a friend.
The scurrying of the furry friends.
My journey begins.
As the last one ends.

The clock on the wall is ticking.
And I am not where I am suppose to be.
But I feel as if I am where I should be.
I know others worry about me.
For that I am truly sorry.
I have been there for many.
Now I need to be here for me.
They see a change they do not understand.
I have been so predictable for years.
With the occasional turning of the corner.
But now they fear, for I am no longer
I am going back to who I once was.
When I was care free.
I have done what has been set out for me.
It feels good to wear the skin that is mine.
I have missed the days of not caring.
So don't worry all will be well.

I dreamt that I had penned my final poetic verse
Like a petal
That fell to the ground
That had floated around the Universe
Looking for somewhere
Perhaps to rest its weary head
Or a leaf, twisting and turning
Distraught in its final journey
Seeking solace in grounds bitter welcoming
So, unlike all the trees
I envisaged the finality of life’s falling grace
Like them, my history would leave no trace
But when the Lion roars
Because it failed to catch the Boars
Then it would seek
To come again on another day
For nature has no reasoning
To ever understand the meaning of finality
For what may be relinquished today?
Tomorrow anew will find time to replay
But I will not weep
For knowledge of mortalities sleep
But how I do envy them their ignorance
To live with no penance
For what I know to be the truth
That is left untold
To all the trees and the majestic Lion
Therefore I shall continue to write,
Until I know I will meet my Zion



Last Poem
I dreamt that I had penned my final poetic verse
Like a petal
That fell to the ground
That had floated around the Universe
Looking for somewhere
Perhaps to rest its weary head
Or a leaf
Twisting and turning
Distraught in its final journey
Seeking solace in grounds bitter welcoming
So, like all the trees
I envisaged the final felling
Left with a story not for the telling
But when the Lion roars
Because it failed to catch the Boars
Then it would seek
To come again on another day
For nature has no reasoning
To ever understand the meaning of finality
For to it
What may be relinquished today?
Tomorrow anew will find time to play
But I will not weep
For what I know to be the truth
That is left untold
To all the trees and the majestic Lion
Therefore I shall continue
To write, until I meet my Zion

The time has come. I feel it as it looms outside my door.
It has my whole body standing at attention with the feeling of dread.
And I know I must face this monster once more.
I walk towards the door, with the stroll of the living dead.
I walk out into the sun lit day.
So beautiful the animals think it is time to play.
Still the heavy feeling in the pit of my soul remains.
For to get the upper hand will be hard to gain.
But I proceed. For I know what awaits me.
And yes there it is. Where I knew it would be.
All hope is all but gone.
To battle this all alone.
OK here goes. I can do this.
As the old lawn mower cranks with a hiss.

There's a tombstone in a open field,
Close by an old ghost town.
The epitaph's been weather- blown away.

There's a bell tower where petitions peeled,
Its been half torn down.
But it must of softened every soul that came to pray.

There's a schoolhouse full of broken glass
And wounded walls.
The rusty swings like derelicts sleeping in the weeds.

There's a picture, graduation class.
Staring down deserted halls.
"THE HOPE OF 41" is what it reads.

Its just as if some restless wind blew
Their dreams away;
Far away.

Its just as if those dreams had never been.

But O' I feel their ghosts surround me now.
I hear them say;
"We've come back home to dream those dreams again".

May all your souls be free to dream again.

No, I'm not Byron; I am, yet,
Another choice for the sacred dole,
Like him - a persecuted soul,
But only of the Russian set.

I early start and end the whole,
And will not win the future days;
Like in an ocean, in my soul,
A cargo of lost hopes stays.

Who, oh, my ocean severe,
Could read all secrets in your scroll?
Who'll tell the people my idea?
I will or God or none at all

Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov

I walked thru the empty halls.
Where memories echoed off the walls.
I found it hard to breathe,
as emotion swept thru me.
My vision blurred from so many thoughts.
Like the fly in a spider web, that was caught.
Memories all so very clear.
And end with me being here.

Your Birthday

I just remembered,
that I forgot,
your birthday!

Many years have passed
since we re-met,
never a birthday missed
until now.

Are you less in my thoughts?
The mists of time sometimes
thicken,
and soften the image
and for a while obscuring it
completely.

Then the soft breezes of memory
blow away the veil
and there you are,
forever unchanged in my mind

One day the mist may hide you
for ever,
on the day my eyes close
for the last time.

Perhaps we will meet again,
when we both have left this life,
and my dreams and hopes
might become a reality

Sometimes I sit and wonder about things that some may never think.
Like where does the water go when it goes down the sink.
I now know.
It seems wondering helps one to grow.
Sometimes I sit and day dream.
About things that may never be.
Picnicking by a stream.
Just you and me.
There is never no face in my dream.
Just a feeling to be met.
Sometimes I go in a room to retrieve something.
I am there but what for I forget.
Sometimes I feel as if I am young and full of life.
Sometimes I feel as if the end is near.
I am no ones wife.
No ones dear.
Sometimes all these things really matter.
Sometimes I just don't care.
Sometimes I am in such control.
Sometimes I am just the mad hatter.
There are many thoughts and feelings that live here.
So many dreams and wonders residing in me.
Today I woke up feeling good just for the sake of feeling good.
I know the feeling want last.
There are many feelings I need to feel.
To make me who I am, a woman moving forward.
Not living in the past.

The quiet of the evening was settling.
In the distance I could hear a radio playing an old song.
It was the time of day when parents were readying children to bed.
My thoughts seemed to suffocate me.
Everything seemed so right, but for me so wrong.
All those thoughts in my head.
Running around free.
Nothing to stop them from turning into shadows in the night.
Haunting me relentless in their plight.
I just wish there was a knob.
Where just maybe.
I could turn it off or change the channel.
I feel as if the peace I felt had been robbed.
And the past once again came to live with me.