Nostalgia Poems (1,152)

All the little pieces,
fragments and crumbs of life.

The troubles, the love,
the fears and the spice.
Make us what we are today.
Show us where we went astray.

Genetics of course play a part.
wit, talent, mood and smart.
Your fist step into first love.
Those highs of emotion truly absurd.

Insecurities we gather and carry
inform who we should marry.
Too late the wisdom of age dictates,
who would have been the perfect mate.

Our little offspring pick up clues.
Some from me and some from you.
Unintentionally we guide them unwisely.
History repeating itself precisely.

Through it all true love prevails.
We have it in abundance, females.
Mother to child, friend to friend.
It's love in the end that makes amends.



03/09/2020

Your mama sent you to a country store
She said
Don't dilly dally around

You're walking barefoot on a dusty road
And you don't hear any sound
Of an automobile don't dilly dally around

You walk by a creek the fish are jumping high
And now a big one caught your eye
This is the best chance you ever found but don't dilly dally around

As you are chewing on a piece of straw
Your old straw hat makes a good shade over the ground
But don't dilly dally around

Way back when this could have been true
Way back when this saying was new
Don't dilly dally around

Words that you said and no longer say,
Words like a sun that burned me,
Crazy eyes from blowing wind
In eyes that were mine, and happier.

Words you said and said
Secrets that were slow at dawn,
Imperfect, murmured promises
While our kisses allow.

Words that say, meaningless,
No way, but just because they were
That brings the calm of the stars
At night that associates to my ear ...

Words that do not say, nor are yours,
Who died, who no longer exist
That are mine, only mine, because they persist
In the memory that drags through the streets.

Bengawan Solo,flowing endlessly,,to the holy flow of the river,I pray today too. Bengawan Solo ,so many dreams,praising Happy days we sing together,,Oh Holy River ,the heart of my mother flowing endlessly,,with the song of prayer on my lips,flowing endlessly. Even though the flowers bloom and fall,the love we have sworn will never never change forever more...(Translated from Japanse song of Bengawan Solo,,into English.) by Satoshi Okano (e-mail ;cross557@blue.megaegg.ne.jp ( I live in Kure city,Hiroshima prefecture,Japan. Japanse married man aged 75

Blown around like a leaf I stumble
back and forth with no real rest.
Lost within the surrounding landscape
seeking I know not what as of yet.

Looking back on a life often misspent
that had no real sense of purpose,
Just drifting from day to day, lost
yet on a track to who knows where?

Until it suddenly clicks and I realise
that the secret was always there.
All I needed to do was open my mind
and follow where my heart led me.

Can anyone yet say
When fair winds will again play
Along the hills of my blue West Virginia?

In better of times
Coal flowed rich from the mines
My son you just had to have been there

But along '59
Big machines rolled online
And the young wives of miners saw worry

Beginning of the end?
No they could not pretend
Their dreams become a cold coal dust slurry

Twas mighty colliers hands
That did build up this land
Till their seasons bled through gray December

And when it's my time
Bury me deep in a coal mine
So my West Virginia miner's soul will remember

A mind's reflection casts a thought out wide
Something wherein the ego breaks its banks
Like a river in a flood or swelling tide
(As for that we do for love and not for thanks)
Forgetting P (my mentor), I went outside
On transports of delight - which now outranks
Any former feeling, that once I knew;-
Though I had a lot of growing up to do.

And so it was, I walked home in the sun
Feeling the kiss, Apollo's gentle rays
Wherein my mind all fancies newly ran
And my imagination did cascade.
The light of afternoon becoming wan
Ripples of thought now waves the mind has made
Exaggerating some, depressing others;-
Waves dash to the shore and wetness smothers.

Relishing at first this new sensation
Which opened up interesting new worlds
Subtle thought now held up for introspection
As fancy upon fancy now unfolds
I took the course for home (or rough direction)
The sun had now dipped low, and gilded golds
Sparkled in the soft whispering of trees
Phoebus' rays now dying with the breeze.

At Wentworth Falls* I now approached the station
For I had to go to Lawson* on the train
Though time had lengthened somehow in duration
The dying afternoon and it's refrain
Now sitting on a seat, my observation
Became acute - (though harder to explain)
And almost when I thought that time would stop
The train I waited for, at last, showed up.

I saw the sun's last rays were dying now
And mirrored in that thinnest sheet of gold
The windows of the train reflects its glow
A transport for the passage of my soul
Something that time much later would avow
When I could bring back reason to its fold;-
The train now creaked, and made a lurching sound;-
With carriages in twilight girdled round.

I found a seat on that conveyance and
Thus seated, tried then, to my thoughts, to follow;-
Like the hourglass with its tiny grains of sand
That trickle down through time to find their hollow
In that inverted vessel, wherein they land
And with their neighbors countless now do wallow
Marking mounds of time on shifting hills;-
Heaped and sliding down those little rills.

My train of thought was a train off the rails
(Something I thought I could at first contain)
To smoke this dr*g, and all that that entails
No longer I a virgin could remain;-
Like a plane in flight - its white contrails
Unfold now in the vortex of my brain;-
I felt like an explorer - such as Mawson
When off that train I did alight at Lawson.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

Is there a reason........
Why birds fly,
Babies die,
Mothers cry
Humans lie?

Is there a reason.........
Why girls remain shy,
Boys think they are fly
Politicians are sly
Or society barely get by?

Is there are reason........
Why the poor are hungry,
The rich are angry
The world is full of anarchy
I was not born an Iraqi?

Is there a reason..........
Judges can be bought,
Wars are fought,
Hatred is taught,
Or fortune is sought?

Really is there a reason...
For each little season,
The practice of treason,
Illicit liaison
And even women who are brazen?

Is waiting
for morning
and night
and safe sleep
waiting
for steps
and knocking
on the door
waiting
for touch
and screaming
fulfillment
waiting
for joys
and sorrows
and discussions
until dawn
waiting
for the end of autumn.

What comes is not expected
And expectations
Fall short of
Reality