Nostalgia Poems (1,152)

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

Your eyes are solitude

Your lips unspoken

Your mind lost

On a heart that is open

You hide the key

Fear expels you to love

You live in a world of mistrust

Heaven's here in my fond garden fair,
nature's love lit spirit's everywhere,
each flower packed with artistic bliss,
blessed by Sun and Moon's opaque kiss,
oft we gaze on them, wide eyes address
those subtle tones if sheer loveliness,
such is the beauty of love laid bare
by continuous waves of scent woven care,
that dance amongst the flowering trees
where lowly blooms reach to kissing please
coloured Spring"s sweet smelling perfumery,
how here, simplistic and cascading hung,
sweet the honeysuckle has proudly sprung,
whilst nearby Jasmine's purity of hue
issues forth her star like flower'ts to view,
such earth 'Elysian Fields' rich and rare
as the dew kissed lawn refresh the air,
whilst Laburnum's pendent branches flair
exhibit her yellow'd profussion lacy lair,
o'er the pavillions of lush soft green,
as wide our haloed eyes, much is seen
amid the coloured garden beauty drest,
as white the rose, breathes her noble breast,
Thus by destiny's unseen fond embrace
breathes my garden, full fair of face.

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!

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

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".

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

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

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

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