Nostalgia Poems (1,152)

Man pulls up a chair as the waves of rain begin to crash,
Sending all to the brink of use towards the edge in a flash.
Disguising the chaos with a sign of peace the eye rolls in,
Casting an ounce of holiness upon a vortex of sin.
The man struggles to accept even as the next wave approaches,
Wind swirling all around with no regard for his broaches.
Even as he struggles to survive his faith keeps him new,
Beaten and Battered physically yes but nothing time can't undo

There is a night made ??for drink
and your life is surfing in a glass
waiting for the dawn light
destiny follows you by the way
it leaves you for a while
but you know it will hit you again.
you do not know whether to cry or try to laugh
laugh in tears
you do not say anything, but you have a thousand things to say.
you wonder if this is the only life
talking in a strange language that ppl consider wrong
a cigarette and a cup of coffee
are the only friends who understand when you're really bad.
Imagine that tomorrow you will meet the great love
what can you do, it was all planned
imagine that the world will forget you just for a while
then you drink something..so you will not die
now imagine that happiness
is an enchanted train
that you take when you are wrong.

like a life shattered
in a grain of sand
splattered on jagged edges
of painful broken memories
must I have to remember
the torments of my past
uncompromising to my hopes
in my younger years?
choices that were in front of me
I dared not pick
but lived the life I thought
that was full of promises?
if mistakes were made
I am sure as hell
want to forgive
fast forward my reels
30 years in the making
I still see myself
in the same blunders
over and over again
my heart shattered
my soul broken
my spirit lifeless
my eyes shut
my tears dried out
would I ever learn?
one thing I know,
I don't ever want to
live the same me
in any dimension
ever again...

Drink not the daily draught of fears
that changeth not a million years,
for all the seasons we live to know
shall rest its pains within its snows,
so, let our sight with onward looking eyes
mock the melancholy of our fateful sighs,
with all its anger that gloom doth borrow,
that's conceived again with each tomorrow,
for each hour we court shall be no more
as silence steals its once mighty roar,
for, impotent lies the futures ill intent
when we in mirth our days are spent,
as the blood runs fast, enjoy this happy hour,
or, forever endure life's darkened bower.

I remember the frogs
Bud
Weis
Er
I remember the farting horse and the candle
I remember the monkeys in the office
The koala holding a coffee cup getting punched
The Budwieser Clydesdale horses
Talking babies
The fat dog losing weight
Ferris Bueller selling cars
FedEx delivering helium balloons to the munchkins
The running of the squirrels
Britney Spears Pepsi ad
Castaway parody
Terry Tate tackling employee taking too long on break
Alien saying "Why don't we use FedEx"
Dog biting man on crotch to get Bud Light
Bad dog
Bear dancing with Burt Reynolds
The majic frig is back
Caveman losing job and getting stepped on by a dinosaur
David Letterman and Oprah watching the Colts and Bears(Colts won)
Face slap replacing the fist pump
There were some really funny ones
This year not so funny
Not really
Four million dollars for a 30 second ad
I guess they can't afford to be as funny any more

Softly sweet, here the setting sun blushing stain
shimmering rivulets upon golden fields of grain,
her subsiding rays harmonize late hours dying art,
whilst we, life strolling free view its fiery heart,
oft blindfolded, pay but mute service to nature's charm,
weave vespers kaleidoscope, dulcet days soft sung balm,
focus keen our short hours, like as a sea spun wave,
she to the returning tide, we to the solitary grave,
leave our lofty schemes, wet eyed awash, a barren cry,
therefore neglect not, the hours that swiftly pass us by,
once its glory flown, e'er estranged from youth's green door,
flowerless, as the deserts, thirst stricken waterless floor,

Alas! life's fragile path, oft traversed sightless alone,
impotent to the difference twixt the neglected and the sown.

The days of my life were settled and set in stone for many years,
one day the stone walls crumbled and fell.

Now the world and my days are ever changing,
instead of always being the same,
now I float on air,
then crash and burn,
I cry in the rain and laugh with the wind,
always changing and always offering hope.

Always knowing tomorrow will never be the same,
the winds of my soul will always reach out for something it knows is there, it would be nice to rest and feel the winds settle soon.

While the wind and rain passing true
so it's our hopes and dreams changing and passing too.
When you get tired and feeling down from unfulfilled dreams
that slips away or just become too old to keep carry them on
like old shoes that needs to be repaired or thrown away for good,
so as you my friend renew your hopes, polish them and go out
into lanes and the fields,
listen and look at the birds still singing,
they didn't lost art of beautiful voices,
tree branches still waves to unknown passengers
and leaves changing collars,
falling down,
and growing again with each new season...
and just because you lost some dreams
the world didn't stop to go around
so it's you my friend that needs to replays old dream
and spread the new seeds in the world ...

swept away with words and gentleness,
the woman inside melted and became whole slowly over so long.
His gentleness made the world seem like a magical world,
the girl reacted and he healed her.

And then one day she lost him and she cried,
but he is a Man who was given to her for a short time only,
now she knows He is happy and ok.

The bubble burst open suddenly one day and the warm sun shone,
her wings opened and she lifted her face to the sun, she smiled.

Now is the time to fly, the idea that there is a Man strong enough
will never die, but until she finds Him she will live and love with her
whole heart.

Draped in her bed sheet
The model stands her modesty hidden
From prying eyes
Draping her body her

Elegant curves
Hidden but reavelling
easing the eye of the beholder
She lays
Her forming curves

Gently resting her torsoed body
Spreads herself ontop the table
Her left leg gentley held crossed up right
Here gaze held
Proped by her arms
She the watcher looks into their gaze

Her mind blank to the minds of the watchers
Pens in hand they paint
Cavtavating her form
as one with the canvas and paint

Her soul her form now captuerd in paint