Here is a list of Nostalgia Poems. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Precious Bits Of Being
February 27, 2014
We may twist in the wind like autumn leaves,
colorful, yet unappreciated.
We may thrive on the laughter of others,
without hearing our own voice, gifted.
How often have you wished and imagined
a partner there with you, sharing the dance?
Two souls meeting, feeling lighter than air,
lost in sweet wonder and budding romance.
A child’s smile, blessed innocence.
Songs, sweet voices, like lovely violins.
Moments of perfection that thrum the heart.
Hearts resonate as those perfect rhythms.
Will someone in pain remember I care,
and allow me kind words to dry their tears?
Dear ones, you need not cling to your secrets.
Where is your good fight to conquer your fears?
Glorious sunsets are meant to be shared.
We gather in awe, with hardly a word.
Day and night merging with a loving sigh;
that single heartbeat of oneness is heard.
What shall unfold as I greet the new dawn?
Gaia, she speaks in soft joyful whispers.
Life tingling within every single cell,
and I ponder the blessing forgiveness stirs.
Ah, the simple heart-shout of holding hands.
Love heals, comforts and is soul freeing.
Touch, compassion, acceptance, and closeness...
I’ve missed all these precious bits of being.
We may twist in the wind like autumn leaves,
colorful, yet unappreciated.
We may thrive on the laughter of others,
without hearing our own voice, gifted.
How often have you wished and imagined
a partner there with you, sharing the dance?
Two souls meeting, feeling lighter than air,
lost in sweet wonder and budding romance.
A child’s smile, blessed innocence.
Songs, sweet voices, like lovely violins.
Moments of perfection that thrum the heart.
Hearts resonate as those perfect rhythms.
Will someone in pain remember I care,
and allow me kind words to dry their tears?
Dear ones, you need not cling to your secrets.
Where is your good fight to conquer your fears?
Glorious sunsets are meant to be shared.
We gather in awe, with hardly a word.
Day and night merging with a loving sigh;
that single heartbeat of oneness is heard.
What shall unfold as I greet the new dawn?
Gaia, she speaks in soft joyful whispers.
Life tingling within every single cell,
and I ponder the blessing forgiveness stirs.
Ah, the simple heart-shout of holding hands.
Love heals, comforts and is soul freeing.
Touch, compassion, acceptance, and closeness...
I’ve missed all these precious bits of being.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
The mind, processing what a busy day of living calls forth.
Languishing With Siberia
Frozen in past, this land and I lie so bleak
The wilderness of history, yet unable to speak
From the mother’s womb, both born of maternity
My life has been short, not of your eternity
Yet I can compare, for my time now lies in the past
Where age has left us with memories so vast
Cold we are, but neither chooses to be heartless
You carved in beauty, yet my palette seems artless
But as I look upon you I can see my own soul
A swirling cold emptiness with a long forgotten goal
Bitter winds sweep across lacking care and affection
Where both our futures seem devoid of direction
Are the ghosts that haunt us such differing strangers?
For in the end do we both not court our own dangers?
Barren, barren, we would cry in our bitter solitude
Yet does our richness not deserve one single platitude
Loneliness, loneliness, can ever be our only true friend
But I will pass as you continue until the final end
Siberia, Siberia, I would embrace your cold arms
For in both our histories none has grasped our charms
Neither of us blooms, we are the forgotten spiraea
I find myself continuing to languish with Siberia
The wilderness of history, yet unable to speak
From the mother’s womb, both born of maternity
My life has been short, not of your eternity
Yet I can compare, for my time now lies in the past
Where age has left us with memories so vast
Cold we are, but neither chooses to be heartless
You carved in beauty, yet my palette seems artless
But as I look upon you I can see my own soul
A swirling cold emptiness with a long forgotten goal
Bitter winds sweep across lacking care and affection
Where both our futures seem devoid of direction
Are the ghosts that haunt us such differing strangers?
For in the end do we both not court our own dangers?
Barren, barren, we would cry in our bitter solitude
Yet does our richness not deserve one single platitude
Loneliness, loneliness, can ever be our only true friend
But I will pass as you continue until the final end
Siberia, Siberia, I would embrace your cold arms
For in both our histories none has grasped our charms
Neither of us blooms, we are the forgotten spiraea
I find myself continuing to languish with Siberia
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2012
About this poem:
Ah my friends, I watch so much from the outside, yet who are we to percieve poetry. You write, I write, are we so different?, I have a love so far from the maddening crowd, let me bestow you, with thoughts, of a longing, of a past love that sees itself with Siberia, the coldness, the emptyness, the heartlessnes and the lonelyness. But it has its own beauty and it certainly has its own ghosts.Are we not but ghosts of the future, and who will recognise this ghost of one we approved and loved upon.
All I can offer you my friends is poetry, born of emotion, born of freedom but most of all born of passion. Poetry is not about metre, not the correct syllables, not precise in its manner, it is about you!! and your wants and needs, embrace me for I am poet!!. I have been missing, but to many not forgotten, may the peace of poetry be upon you all.
The silent customer
I can barely see through the slits in the glass,
Beyond it are tubes and machinary all on mass,
The odd body here, the occasional person their,
Serving customers that are not even aware.
I feel all the heartache and sense very little joy,
Not sure inside how to feel, is all this just to annoy,
Admiration, please switch them on and make them sing,
For these customers its not working, they have no bell to ring.
Their are two halves to this particular game of life,
Both bringing on their own version of manic strife,
Love, devotion, caring and time, given each day,
But I assure you, no customer here ever wishes to stay.
Navy and light blue, white, green and red are all after no thanks,
Spending the hours in silence, a team without any ranks,
Everyone hoping for a gift to give and must achieve,
Which is the joy they recieve when a silent customer leaves.
Beyond it are tubes and machinary all on mass,
The odd body here, the occasional person their,
Serving customers that are not even aware.
I feel all the heartache and sense very little joy,
Not sure inside how to feel, is all this just to annoy,
Admiration, please switch them on and make them sing,
For these customers its not working, they have no bell to ring.
Their are two halves to this particular game of life,
Both bringing on their own version of manic strife,
Love, devotion, caring and time, given each day,
But I assure you, no customer here ever wishes to stay.
Navy and light blue, white, green and red are all after no thanks,
Spending the hours in silence, a team without any ranks,
Everyone hoping for a gift to give and must achieve,
Which is the joy they recieve when a silent customer leaves.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
This was inspired by my time spent observing the ITU nurses at work when I was their a few years ago.
A play on rhyme.
Oh! Subtle touch attend, the needs of poetic pen,
intermingling phrases drink the long dried latent ink,
its music betwixt lines apply, bY the hand of harmony,
pulsating rhymes show an ethereal delighted glow,
from lofty spheres again, its joy from rain
to quiet fall unbroken, as thunder yet silent spoken,
symphonic sounds for us, from purest notes melodious,
teach happiness accrue, the wealth of love pursue,
from caverns' deepest cell, echo love's poetic spell,
rewarding toiled chore with stardust from the meteor,
by its light tracking canopy, illume the dark and trackless sea.
Thus enchantingly silver spun, thro' ageless years has run,
serves love a happier knot, along her streaming banners slot,
ever tied to harmonious thought, the icon of virtue taught
piety dwell the muse of it, safe from betraying fools of wit,
find we here on the earth, tongued men of little worth,
oft recite with smoothest tone, words that they do not rightly own,
then with transparent visage tell, all they cannot answer well,
with voice like streamlets running, naive depths of shallow cunning,
forget the pain, forget the folly that blackens day with melancholy,
leave drowsy realms of Morpheus, and harken sweet to Orpheus,
where evening vespers gaily spin,the noiseless web, fragile thin,
cradles sleepy shadows fine, where zephyrs sweep the odorous pine,
with fragrant breath of evening dew, rustling whispers filtering thru,
where we oft in disbelief, hear the harp on falling leaf,
gently moisten so the ground, float, to garnish earth a coloured coat,
leafy companions tree hung store, join in its choir, oft before
summer's scented stirring breeze, echoed o'er the slumbering leas,
breathes its opium incensed tale to herdsmen of the lowly dale,
whose laboured day's timeless clock, toil their charge that ambition mock,
with heart directed eye ever keen,pour love on pastures green,
till past the sun at eventide, whilst moon peeps thro' heavens wide,
steers his stock to homeward Oaks, where cottage chimney gently smokes,
and children skirt the welcome fire, with greedy kiss his cheeks attire,
nightly there he silent took, parental pleasures at the inglenook,
unspoken love joy and care, at his weary side they snuggled there,
with sparkling eye would them entreat, antique stories of heroics feat,
where Knights rescued maidens fair, from the evil clutches of despair,
crusading tales so timeless old, peoples champion fearless bold,
nightly, they'd the same tales hear,caressing balm the infant ear,
love warmed air's silent creep, lull the eye to peaceful sleep,
love unwritten in sand or dust, but in longevity of parental trust,
that we must nurse to ever groom, through the bright, through the gloom,
to burn love's flame serene and pen the poet's hopeful dream.
intermingling phrases drink the long dried latent ink,
its music betwixt lines apply, bY the hand of harmony,
pulsating rhymes show an ethereal delighted glow,
from lofty spheres again, its joy from rain
to quiet fall unbroken, as thunder yet silent spoken,
symphonic sounds for us, from purest notes melodious,
teach happiness accrue, the wealth of love pursue,
from caverns' deepest cell, echo love's poetic spell,
rewarding toiled chore with stardust from the meteor,
by its light tracking canopy, illume the dark and trackless sea.
Thus enchantingly silver spun, thro' ageless years has run,
serves love a happier knot, along her streaming banners slot,
ever tied to harmonious thought, the icon of virtue taught
piety dwell the muse of it, safe from betraying fools of wit,
find we here on the earth, tongued men of little worth,
oft recite with smoothest tone, words that they do not rightly own,
then with transparent visage tell, all they cannot answer well,
with voice like streamlets running, naive depths of shallow cunning,
forget the pain, forget the folly that blackens day with melancholy,
leave drowsy realms of Morpheus, and harken sweet to Orpheus,
where evening vespers gaily spin,the noiseless web, fragile thin,
cradles sleepy shadows fine, where zephyrs sweep the odorous pine,
with fragrant breath of evening dew, rustling whispers filtering thru,
where we oft in disbelief, hear the harp on falling leaf,
gently moisten so the ground, float, to garnish earth a coloured coat,
leafy companions tree hung store, join in its choir, oft before
summer's scented stirring breeze, echoed o'er the slumbering leas,
breathes its opium incensed tale to herdsmen of the lowly dale,
whose laboured day's timeless clock, toil their charge that ambition mock,
with heart directed eye ever keen,pour love on pastures green,
till past the sun at eventide, whilst moon peeps thro' heavens wide,
steers his stock to homeward Oaks, where cottage chimney gently smokes,
and children skirt the welcome fire, with greedy kiss his cheeks attire,
nightly there he silent took, parental pleasures at the inglenook,
unspoken love joy and care, at his weary side they snuggled there,
with sparkling eye would them entreat, antique stories of heroics feat,
where Knights rescued maidens fair, from the evil clutches of despair,
crusading tales so timeless old, peoples champion fearless bold,
nightly, they'd the same tales hear,caressing balm the infant ear,
love warmed air's silent creep, lull the eye to peaceful sleep,
love unwritten in sand or dust, but in longevity of parental trust,
that we must nurse to ever groom, through the bright, through the gloom,
to burn love's flame serene and pen the poet's hopeful dream.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
There has of recent time, much controversy as to whether poems should rhyme, there is a longevity in the rhyming format, which is now seemingly absent from the younger core of poets, they to there credit embark on a format somewhat strange to my generation, but equally worthwhile, all I have done here is to present an older style, which may or may not rest easy with many, the fact is that we write, regardless of style, that is the virtue.
Salad Days
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
Peel away the rotten apples that I sneezed out from my eyes
They will never be forgotten, but their infected by all those worms inside
The core was once the center of life, but now it has grown soft
As this baby has grown older and is no longer cute at all
Their skin is misbehaving and they leave an old fermenting smell
All the secrets they've been keeping I wonder what they would tell
As I dwell upon these memories, but there aren't any facts
Only counter intuitive directions mislead by simple acts
This apple is for my daughters and this one is for my friends
These are from my childhood memories, the ones I hoped would never end
And these are for my family here is my dear old mom and dad
I am still wishing for those moments, but they are never coming back
Now I sail away into oblivion, because there is nothing left inside
Just a little boy who loved to dream, but that part of me has also died
~ JJF~
Peel away the rotten apples that I sneezed out from my eyes
They will never be forgotten, but their infected by all those worms inside
The core was once the center of life, but now it has grown soft
As this baby has grown older and is no longer cute at all
Their skin is misbehaving and they leave an old fermenting smell
All the secrets they've been keeping I wonder what they would tell
As I dwell upon these memories, but there aren't any facts
Only counter intuitive directions mislead by simple acts
This apple is for my daughters and this one is for my friends
These are from my childhood memories, the ones I hoped would never end
And these are for my family here is my dear old mom and dad
I am still wishing for those moments, but they are never coming back
Now I sail away into oblivion, because there is nothing left inside
Just a little boy who loved to dream, but that part of me has also died
~ JJF~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
About this poem:
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.~Norman Cousins~
Shower
As I step into the steam
My body blanketed in the warm enveloping tantalising mist
Muscles arch and stretch
Welcoming warm water molesting my skin
Vanilla scented suds sliding over soft curves
Sensual sighs echo out into humid air
Satin smooth caresses of fingers lovingly worshiping slender muscles
Rhythmic sensual motion lulling and hypnotising the mind into seductive trance
Euphoric rapture of hot jets as my head tilts back
Eyes lightly closed surrendering to this pleasure.
My body blanketed in the warm enveloping tantalising mist
Muscles arch and stretch
Welcoming warm water molesting my skin
Vanilla scented suds sliding over soft curves
Sensual sighs echo out into humid air
Satin smooth caresses of fingers lovingly worshiping slender muscles
Rhythmic sensual motion lulling and hypnotising the mind into seductive trance
Euphoric rapture of hot jets as my head tilts back
Eyes lightly closed surrendering to this pleasure.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
Post Comment
The Way Home
I alone know my soul,
yet distant its voice does roam,
Father; show me the way home.
For I have traveled far too long
and only my memory knows my song,
and I sense I no longer belong.
Around me the families do play
and to the other they return each day,
yet it is alone I seek my fate.
And still I am not in quiet disturbed
for in silence is born again my words,
upon the page ideas do turn.
The poet's mind I know is strange
for we are bare our lives upon the page,
and drink our measure of pleasure and pain.
But know we not of boredom's drone
for we cast aside comforts known,
yet I wonder, where is home……?
~SAS
yet distant its voice does roam,
Father; show me the way home.
For I have traveled far too long
and only my memory knows my song,
and I sense I no longer belong.
Around me the families do play
and to the other they return each day,
yet it is alone I seek my fate.
And still I am not in quiet disturbed
for in silence is born again my words,
upon the page ideas do turn.
The poet's mind I know is strange
for we are bare our lives upon the page,
and drink our measure of pleasure and pain.
But know we not of boredom's drone
for we cast aside comforts known,
yet I wonder, where is home……?
~SAS
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
Post CommentWeather or Whether.
Inclement climes set early in today,
lacking mercy at dawn's soft hour,
the lake now ruffled torn and dour,
as sad the world was hard at play,
Thus to counter my abysmal gloom
and annihilate nature's harsh brooding storm,
sojourned I, to my much favoured cozy room,
lit the lifeless fire, then my inglenook was warm,
Thus contented I, relaxing by the blazing air,
I thought of thee, soft faced and fair,
tho' dull outside, embraced your vision rare,
whilst inclined upon my rocking chair,
There, dare but I, my eager love set free
and behind the curtained wall, discover
hallow time, where fond thoughts prevail,
and life's emotional knot ne'er be severed.
lacking mercy at dawn's soft hour,
the lake now ruffled torn and dour,
as sad the world was hard at play,
Thus to counter my abysmal gloom
and annihilate nature's harsh brooding storm,
sojourned I, to my much favoured cozy room,
lit the lifeless fire, then my inglenook was warm,
Thus contented I, relaxing by the blazing air,
I thought of thee, soft faced and fair,
tho' dull outside, embraced your vision rare,
whilst inclined upon my rocking chair,
There, dare but I, my eager love set free
and behind the curtained wall, discover
hallow time, where fond thoughts prevail,
and life's emotional knot ne'er be severed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
Post Comment
Reminding
And now
I finger the bit of quartz
Which is to remind me
of what I am
No more or less than you
There is no separation
in the NOW moment.
Time is an illusion a trap.
Cunningly conceived
by ourselves
You should know
But it does not help
We are all prisoners
In a false reality
A bit like those in
the matrix.
I finger the bit of quartz
Which is to remind me
of what I am
No more or less than you
There is no separation
in the NOW moment.
Time is an illusion a trap.
Cunningly conceived
by ourselves
You should know
But it does not help
We are all prisoners
In a false reality
A bit like those in
the matrix.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
Post CommentRenewed
Pounding of the nails sealing for all time
Idle fascination is it a crime
Noise of children at play mirrored sounds
Old man silenced who was well past his prime
Still upon the ground barely breathing bird
Twisted wounded broken wing still can fly
Wind gently blowing bringing back to life
Soaring back to life leaving behind cry
A circle no ending no beginning
Rain producing rainbows for all to see
Peace love happiness is yours if you want
Life projects what you give is what you be
A closing of the door a brand new start
Loving life with a clean pureness of heart
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
Idle fascination is it a crime
Noise of children at play mirrored sounds
Old man silenced who was well past his prime
Still upon the ground barely breathing bird
Twisted wounded broken wing still can fly
Wind gently blowing bringing back to life
Soaring back to life leaving behind cry
A circle no ending no beginning
Rain producing rainbows for all to see
Peace love happiness is yours if you want
Life projects what you give is what you be
A closing of the door a brand new start
Loving life with a clean pureness of heart
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2014
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