Nostalgia Poems (1,152)

Once upon a time some poets would gather
And write poems of their choice
It was beautiful and lovely
It allowed each poet to have a voice

Comments made on those poems
Were lovely to read and digest
The comments inspired the poets
And gave them a feeling of being blessed

To all those poets I wish to say
It was great to have your work read
May your lives be blessed evermore
Thank you for what we have shared

And now, all you dearest poets
You can look back at those days
They were all so wonderful and happy
Oh yes, those were the days

La-la-la-da-da-da
La-la-la-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da, la-da-da-da-da

Pure heart mechanical blues
there's a sax playing on the ridge
it rained all night in Kentucky

There's shoe-shine folklore
and western desert chords
struck in 4:4
I tell you this
when the dice roll
Mama's all knowin'
trumpet blowin'
good as a circus phenomenon

Pure heart mechanical blues
there's a sax playing on the ridge
it rained all night in Kentucky

I finally did it!
After months of playing this game
I defeated Bowser
He kept trying to stomp on me
I got out of the way
He then fell through the floor
I then rescued the princess
I like the old style video games
The newest system I have is an XBox from 2001
I just can't see spending all that money on the new
When I love the old
Same thing goes for my music
Taylor Swift
Nah
Cyndi Lauper
Yeah!

By sand drift and sea
a girl in bright feathered green
Gatsby and champagne

Lend me your cloche
flappers dancing the Charleston
jazz and etiquette

tennis racquet times
romance in the Duesenberg
picnic on the Sound

LONELYNESS
Longing fills the hours of my night, Lavender dreams in twilight's sight,
On a canvas of Daisies painted in the moonlight.
Nights like these whisper a silent plight,
Eternal echoes of Orchids taking flight.

Yearning for a touch, a voice so sweet, like an Azalea's repeat,
Each moment, like an Iris, feels incomplete.
Shadows, like Nightshades, claim defeat,
Sorrows have found a quiet retreat.

Over the hills, beneath the indigo sky, Lilies lie,
Night paints a picture, an intense outcry.
Laying bare the heart, the whispers of goodbye,
Yearns for the dawn, a relief to comply.

Nightfall cloaks the world in a tranquil haze,
Each star a beacon, like a Sunflower's gaze.
Solitude, like a Tulip, speaks in mysterious ways,
Seducing the heart in its intricate maze.

Sighs of loneliness, the silent bell, a Rose can tell,
On memories of love, my thoughts dwell.
Never again to be under the spell,
Love’s fleeting dance, like a Daffodil, I remember it well.

Yearning whispers in the night, no one to appease,
Eclipsed by the silence, brought to its knees.
Solitary heart, like a Lotus, longing for release,
Strumming the chords of a melancholic piece.

Over the horizon, the morning sun will rise, like Marigolds surprise,
New day, new hope beneath the azure skies.
Love, they say, never truly dies,
Yearning, like a Violet, in the heart forever lies.

Echoes of the past in the corridor of time, just like a Primrose's rhyme,
Softly murmur a forgotten love rhyme.
Seducing the senses, an ageless mime,
Solitude's song, beautifully sublime, like the call of a Jasmine's chime.

A dream, always just a dream.
A gentle yes strong arm just wrapping around you as you stand wondering.
A shoulder that you can lean into knowing that no matter what it will still be there.
A set of eyes that look into you, know you and yet yearn to discover more of you.
Lips that you can't stop kissing, that curl up in a knowing smile, when he sees that you remember how they feel.
A chest and lap that is home.
I know Him he is out there but in this life I might have to just settle for my dreams.

Dad and I would sail across the lake
Slicing through the foaming white caps
Outrunning those summer storms
Fearless as Viking gods
Sailing down the coast
Memories made
Sail again
Sail with
Joy

Twilight:

The softness of the day,
mellow tones,
removing the sharpness of the sun.

Settling down,
the birds chirping softly,
the crickets singing.

Bringing a close to the day,
a time to stop and breath.

A time to remember and wonder.

My Three-year-old Niece's child, blind from birth,
Her Grandpa, my brother.

Walking the garden, her tiny hand in his, showing her colours,

Tiny hands feeling the Green grass,
Little fingers grasping a Brown stone, warm from the sun.
Small bare feet kicking the Blue water gleefully.
Little nose smelling a Pink rose.

Can you see colours?

Sometimes we are too busy to stop and see beauty even when we can.

There are times
When I feel an affinity
With an old forgotten book
Dusty and worn
With a sad pitted cover
Where the elements and time
Have taken their toll
The chapters of my life
Make no great reading
Like the book
Neither of us is a classic
But we both have a story
To tell
In pages so steeped
Within sadness and sorrow
As great bitterness and regret
Weep from both our spines
And the glue
Which for so long
Bound us both
To our own existence
Had deteriorated
Beyond all recognition
But more than any other thing
The final two words
Of both our journeys
Remain true and constant
“The End”