Oh, to me not drinking is like being dead, almost. I sit here taking endless journeys down memory lane. It gets boring.
quote by Jeffrey Bernard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taking a Walk on Memory Lane
Taking a walk on memory lane
isn’t all that gray.
Taking a walk on memory lane
I see the sunrays.
Taking a walk on memory lane
isn’t all full of tears.
Taking a walk on memory lane
I have no fear.
Taking a walk on memory lane
not a dropp of rain in sight.
Taking a walk on memory lane
Every thing is alright.
Taking a walk on memory lane
is where I want you to come along.
Taking a walk on memory lane
is where we belong all lifelong.
poem by Lost Sierra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Travelling down memory lane
Traveling down memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Traveling down memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Traveling down memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Traveling down memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Traveling down memory lane
is love & pain, fun with friends.
Traveling down memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Traveling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Traveling down memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
poem by Ralph Acosta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
Poet: Spandan Bhattacharyya
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Strolling down memory lane
Strolling down memory lane
Where the colors begin to fade.
Strolling down memory lane
Is where I want you to come along.
Strolling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind.
Strolling down memory lane
I won’t be afraid.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not lacking in color.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not a big bummer.
Strolling down memory lane
Not a storm in sight
Strolling down memory lane
is joy without bite.
A memory that I have created in my mind,
Stands the test of time.
Memories are like dream, a reflection of the past.
My memories can kiss my…
Ask me no questions I will tell you no lies.
poem by Taran Burke
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Memory Lane
People ask me What you doin' son
You're gonna drive yourself insane
You'll never find the sunshine
When you're followin' the rain
Seems like I'd take a new road
After all these years
But I wind up on the same old trail of tears
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
'Cuz I know I'll be runnin' into you
Reminiscin' through the pain
Recallin' things that we used to do
I'm lookin' up an old flame
Down on Heartbreak Avenue
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
'Cuz I know I'll be runnin'into you
I hate the way I loved you
But my mind keeps goin' back
My train of thought just won't get off
That same old worn out track
It's an every night occasion me and your memory meet
On that endless lonely street of broken dreams
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
'Cuz I know I'll be runnin' into you
Reminiscin' through the pain
Recallin' things that we used to do
I'm lookin' up an old flame
Down on Heartbreak Avenue
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
'Cuz I know I'll be runnin'/Into you
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
Cuz I know I'll be runnin' into you
Reminiscin' through the pain
Recallin' things that we used to do
I'm lookin' up an old flame
Down on Heartbreak Avenue
I'm still walkin' down Memory Lane
'Cuz I know I'll be runnin'/Into you
Here she comes now
I'm still walkin'
Down Memory Lane
I'm still walkin'
Down Memory Lane
I'm still walkin'
Down Memory Lane
Lord
song performed by by Tim McGraw from Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strolling On The Memory Lane
oh, i went to memory lane
too,
i've seen much already.
i come back to what i am
and what i have become,
i hold on to my vision,
my dreams
i write about hope, and
imagine
my future, another 20 years,
another 30 years more,
i pray,
the memory lane is black and white
and then
it faded like a denim
a murky river where i lift my feet
up above the water
and as i move towards the shore,
i decided, i thought,
the memory lane serves me
no more
it was short, and it will not be
repeated
i wake up, and then i forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep Down The Memory Lane
Deep down the memory lane
I still think of you
Though you may have forgotten me
Yet I think of you
I know there had been promises unkept
and many wishes unfulfilled
Yet deep down the memory lane
I still think of you
There had been lot of fightings
and lot of faults in me
They really have stiffled you
and made u cry to agony
I know it was my weakness
that made you go away
I was the only reason
that made ur love deplete
I have tried to hate u
I have tried to damn
Yet deep down the memory lane
I still think of you!
poem by Rahul Gupta
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I Am Never The Best In Anything
I AM NEVER THE BEST IN ANYTHING
I am never the best in anything
Sometimes I am second best
Often I am just mediocre.
A second son
I am never more than second
In all I do.
As I write this poem
I think of many
More rich in metaphor
More wise in complex rhyme
More dazzling in vocabulary
Deeper in Beauty and Meaning
Than me.
Second best, mediocre
Maybe worse
The poet of endless literal complaints
About his own poetry.
Boring boring boring
Second best
Second rate
Not great.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Stroll Along Old Memory Lane
A stroll along old memory lane is a thing I do enjoy
And I can hear the songbirds sing in the groves of Lisnaboy
And white butterflies are flitting midst the wildflowers of July
And above the rushy meadow the lark carolling in the sky
A stroll along old memory lane on a bright Summer's day
And from the sunlit meadow the scent of new mown hay
Is so pleasant to the nostrils in the freshening morning breeze
And the temperature a perfect of around 23 degrees
And on the leafy hedgerows the young birds chirp and sing
A stroll along old memory lane is such a pleasant thing
The hum of the wild honeybees the buzzing of the flies
The past from us not distant when we do visualize
And the skylark's song in the sunny sky is a pleasant thing to hear
As you walk along old memory lane in the Summer of the year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Boring Lonely Day
What to do
On a boring lonely day?
How to have something to do
To keep the blues away?
I have got my papers sorted
And I am faced with a lonely boring day.
I cleaned my home yesterday.
From having a good and fun day,
I am thwarted.
The songs only make me sadder
I am having a boring lonely day.
All my games bore me now
Even when I win, it is a lonely boring day.
Having nothing to do
Makes for a boring lonely day.
And no one to do nothing with
That's the cause of the lonely boring day.
Now that I know the cause
Of my lonely boring days,
I can do something without pause
To cure my boring lonely days.
poem by Lonely People Champion
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A Walk On Memory Lane
To me a walk on memory lane can be a thing of joy
To visit my uncle Dan and aunty Mary in their home in Lisnaboy
I could call there at anytime and a welcome i would find
The past it seems to stay with us in the memory of the mind,
The little brown lark carolled as upwards he did fly
Above the old coarse meadow on an evening in July,
I am on a walk on memory lane and how lovely to hear and see
The red breasted robin singing on branch of an alder tree
It all seems very real to me not a vision in a dream
The white breasted dipper singing in the rapids of the stream
On it's way to the river babbling as it does flow
Through meadows and through rushy fields and by many a hedgerow
I walk the fields of Lisnaboy when I'm on memory lane
And i visit Dan and Mary it is like old times again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The main thing I'm into is going about on a bike, taking random routes; I'm really into the idea of making up journeys, and just seeing where they take you, because they always end up taking you someplace freaky.
quote by Tom Jenkinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Work Is Over
When work is over he likes to hit the bars,
And at the boozer well have another jar,
Because drinking can help ease the strain
Of his boring occupation,
Dull conversation,
Living by the book
And the rules and regulations.
Drinking helps us to forget what we are,
We leave the office and walk straight to the bar.
Dont stop to think,
Have another drink!
Drinking helps us to relax with the chaps,
A double scotch and we forget where were at.
Dont stop to think
Have another drink!
When work is over he likes to hit the bars,
Go down the boozer and have another jar,
Because drinking can help ease the strain
Of his boring occupation,
Dull conversation,
Living by the book
And the rules and regulations.
Boring occupations,
Dull conversations,
Living by the book
And the rules and regulstions.
Drinking helps us to forget what we are,
We leave the office and walk straight to the bar,
Dont stop to think,
Have another drink.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simple Pleasures
The simple pleasures in life are best.
Spending time with speacial freinds.
Letting them know that they depend.
You'll always be there to defend.
Taking time to sit and think.
To ponder how great the world can be.
Sit and read while drinking tea.
It's all a splendid treat for me.
A peaceful walk down in the park.
Taking in it's gorgeous spark.
The precious wonders are so stark.
Listening to music that gives you hope.
These simple pleasures are what I need.
So life doesn't grow tired and boring.
Enjoy them all because life is short.
Cherish these things inside your heart.
poem by Michael McParland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory Lane
This is the place
You end up when
You lose the chase
Where you're dragged against your will
From a basement on the hill
And all anybody knows is
You're not like them
They kick you in the head
And send you back to bed
Isolation pulled you past a tunnel to a
Bright world where you can make a place to stay
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
The mayor's name is fear
His force patrols the pier
From a mountain of cliche
That advances everyday
The doctor spoke of cloud
He rained out loud
You'll keep the doors and windows shut
And swear
You'll never show a soul again
But isolation pushes you til every muscle aches
Down the only road it ever takes
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
If it's your decision
To be open about yourself
Be careful or else
Be careful or else
I'm comfortable apart
It's all written on my chart
That I take what's given to me
Most cooperatively
I do what people say
And lie in bed all day
Absolutely horrified
I hope you're satisfied
Isolation pushes past self-hatred, guilt, and shame
To a place where sufferings just a game
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
Your little house on memory lane
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You Drinking?
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Another Memory
….passing through another memory
the drifted memory timed on brinks
flung open like doors,
old women’s chatters,
truth observed,
typewriter of olden times,
a dead Rondeñan sun
steaming hot against life and death,
against itself,
against eyes that sadden
or dreams that are endless,
in newness never returning to oldness….
poem by Edmundo Farolan
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Rzhepicks(4)
If you are a good lad
Every child should call you dad.
***
I will not give up drinking
But I will go on thinking
If I should give up smoking.
***
Everyone has to know,
Our life is not a show.
If you chose a husband or a wife
If you want to enjoy your life
She or he has to be your life partner
And not your life owner.
***
After drinking Russian vodka
An Englishman from Yorkshire dialect
Has broken into debauchire dialect.
***
After drinking whisky
Some men are so frisky,
But some are so boring,
All night snoring.
***
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January the 15th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Brogan's Lane
There's a crack in the city—down that sharp street
In couples, and armed, tramp rozzers on beat.
Like a joss, silhouetted across the pane,
A Chinese face watches down Brogan’s Lane,
Brogan’s Lane, Brogan’s Lane,
A reeling moon blinks over Brogan’s Lane.
Flash Fred, when he dives on a red lot, sneaks thro’
To moscow the swag with a Polaky Jew.
Tho’ rooked by old Shylock, he needn’t complain,
The melting pot bubbles in Brogan’s Lane,
Brogan’s Lane, Brogan’s Lane,
Rats pinch from their cobbers down Brogan’s Lane.
And Jenny, fresh down from the country, goes gay
And drives to the races and laughs at the play;
Till one morn, lying out in the cold and the rain,
A body is perished in Brogan’s Lane,
Brogan’s Lane, Brogan’s Lane,
There’s only one turn to the long last lane.
With opium dens, sly cribs, bones and rags,
’Tis the haunt of thieves, wastrels, poor women and vags.
They booze to bring joy, they sin to numb pain,
But there’ll come a stretch at the end of the lane,
Brogan’s Lane, Brogan’s Lane,
The river and morgue shadow Brogan’s Lane.
poem by Louis Esson
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Der mann im keller
How cool and fair this cellar where
My throne a dusky cask is;
To do no thing but just to sing
And drown the time my task is.
The cooper he's
Resolved to please,
And, answering to my winking,
He fills me up
Cup after cup
For drinking, drinking, drinking.
Begrudge me not
This cosy spot
In which I am reclining--
Why, who would burst
With envious thirst,
When he can live by wining.
A roseate hue seems to imbue
The world on which I'm blinking;
My fellow-men--I love them when
I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.
And yet I think, the more I drink,
It's more and more I pine for--
Oh, such as I (forever dry)
God made this land of Rhine for;
And there is bliss
In knowing this,
As to the floor I'm sinking:
I've wronged no man
And never can
While drinking, drinking, drinking.
poem by Eugene Field
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