A Touch Of Nostalgia
When I was young,
I often wandered off on my own,
my eyes exploring everything I saw
and filed it away in my memory store.
Now as I’ve got older
those insignificant things
come back to me now and then.
They fill my life with sanity
when I think I’m going around the bend.
Some of those things
I incorporate in whatever I write.
A touch of nostalgia
for others who remember them as well.
28 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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It's Better With The Good Eye
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Looking back at oh so far away.
Memory’s just another way to see.
A place to go on holiday for free,
Forty years ago if it’s a day.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
And was that other person really me,
What changed, why could I not stay?
Memory’s just another way to see
The way things were around us then when we
Thought all our dreams were surely on their way.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
The sky was always blue it seemed to me,
Every day the sun shone so they say -
Memory’s just another way to see,
But now I know that life’s not lunch for free
That bitter fruit is served on many days
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Memory’s just another way to see.
Martin Swords
“Prompt Poems”
Villanelle
March 2008
poem by Martin Swords
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Memory Store
As we get older
some of us rely upon
memories to bring comfort.
Memories when we were young.
We sit back and daydream
of things that happened
a long time ago
instead of going out
and making more memories
for our memory store.
16 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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In The Way Back Then
Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.
30 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Shadows Fell
April was a lovely girl, her warmth was in her eyes
And she and I would walk within the calm of clear blue skies
Too short our time together, and what time consisted of
I knew her well, the shadows fell
See, April was my love...
A young man then, I knew the things a young man knows
But somehow lost it all with age, I guess that's how it goes
But April understood, and in time revealed to me
Reflection, my direction
And what April was to be...
She became to me the way to love's soothing caress
The answers to all questions, life and love, were met with yes
All that April showed to me, my heart still now believes
To take her place, her smiling face
April love, my heart still grieves...
Our time together had the look, forever on it's face
The hands of time stood still for us, in arm, and sweet embrace
It wasn't meant to be for us, nor I to have the sound
But she was singing, bells were ringing
As she felt the darkened ground...
Too soon my April left me, to some higher plane I'm sure
To wait for me to come someday, and reminisce with her
To tell me why each tear was lost, each April that I cried
As love turned to loss, inside the cross
When my April died...
Winter's breath blows hard upon her memory now
But I remember April, springtime love and lifetime vow
Sometimes I can feel her touch, and feel the gentle breeze
The days and nights, the wrongs the rights
There are many thoughts of these...
Many years ago now, April's love had held my heart
Too many days, and nights spent now without, but not apart
And I would trade my todays, for yesterday to be...
With April once again, and back to when
April was my love, you see.......
poem by Dino Evans
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Our Memory Store
We talk about the times
we had there in the past,
and the times that never seemed to last.
They were there for a moment
and then quietly faded away,
and now we remember them
as if they were yesterday.
If only we could bring them back
and the magic, they implored.
Hear the gayety and laughter
around us once more.
Like all good things,
they are gone, locked forever in
our memory store.
Only to be released
on days when life
is down and doubting.
Then we unlock the gilded gates
setting them free once more
from our memory store
so we can dance again
by the light of the moon.
28-29 August 2012
poem by David Harris
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Dear Old Friend
Dear old friend,
How far back does your memory span?
does it go through last year?
or before marching band?
Do you remember nail fights
do you remember seeing me cry?
do you remember not seeing me after
do you remember understanding why?
Do you remember cuddle puddles?
Do you remember the tickle war?
do you remember stealing my stuff
and then trying to get back from you on the floor?
Do you remember when you were to high to stand?
do you remember me being there until i could be sure you were okay?
do you remember competitions we went to
playing a rigged game of cards along the way?
do you remember how much fun we had?
do you remember when it ended?
when nome left and things fell apart
making us do things that offended?
I remember
I remember a time when I was at peace
I remember being happy all the time
i remember your hugs
that always felt sublime.
I remember our friendship
I remember what you said
I remember this year that
is now gone and quite dead
oh my dear old friend
what has happened in this year?
what has made things change so
that I am not considered by you a peer?
well there is little
more for me to say
now that I'm done
I'll go away
just think about
the things said here
and know at least
I still hold you dear
My dear old friend
poem by Jack Harris
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Hidden Within
I write more on some days
than I do on others.
On those days there is an urgency
hidden within what I do.
I cannot explain it,
nor do I ever try.
I just sit down, write,
and write to my hearts content.
The pouring out of words
is something I have got used to.
I write wherever I am, at home,
in my car when I am not driving of course.
Walking along the street, even in my sleep.
My mind is always active
exploring new avenues,
laying waste to more words.
It is my way of life
and I would be lost without it.
I once gave up for six or seven years,
but its pull was always there.
It’s something I will never do again.
My legacy when I leave this world
will be within my words
and any good things I have done.
Hopefully, that won’t be
for a long, long time to come.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Trigger
Everything we do is recorded
in our computer’s memory
to be released at moments
when we least expect them.
A smell or a sound
could be the trigger
to release a memory
and send us hurtling back
to the time when it was recorded.
Some things are sad things
that we hoped
would never be released
and others are of good things
that came our way
making us rejoice over them.
Each lasts for only moments
before returning back
into our computer’s memory.
10 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Try Not To Breathe
I will try not to breathe.
I can hold my head still with my hands at my knees.
These eyes are the eyes of the old, shiver and fold.
I will try not to breathe.
This decision is mine. i have lived a full life
And these are the eyes that I want you to remember. oh.
I need something to fly over my grave again.
I need something to breathe.
I will try not to burden you.
I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath
Until all these shivers subside,
Just look in my eyes.
I will try not to worry you.
I have seen things that you will never see.
Leave it to memory me. I shudder to breathe.
I want you to remember. oh. (you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe)
Baby, dont shiver now.
Why do you shiver now? (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to breathe. oh. oh. oh.
I will try not to worry you.
I have seen things that you will never see.
Leave it to memory me. dont dare me to breathe.
I want you to remember. oh. (you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe)
Baby, dont shiver now.
Why do you shiver now? (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe - I have seen things
You will never see)
I want you to remember.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young William And Young April
Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '
Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'
Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'
Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.
Young William said, 'Don't follow me.'
Away from her he fled.
April then, sat down and cried,
And wished that she was dead.
William never came again.
At least, for many years.
Fearful that young April still,
Might be there shedding tears.
William walked the park again.
It seemed just like before.
Wondering if he might see her.
Young April, there once more.
Young William never noticed.
The roses hid it well.
The place they found Young April.
The place she used to dwell.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Forever Saying Goodbye
we are forever saying goodbye
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye let me repeat
the child who has grown into a young man
would remain a fond memory, like how we remember
a childhood friend who was always at our side
the young man who has matured into the middle aged
will remember him as someone who have looked
for so many things in thirty years only to get
only some things; a trail of disappointments to
spice up his memory as he bade the young man goodbye
the middle aged suddenly discovers that he
is not as young anymore, his eyes, his legs,
his hair, his stamina have all started to nag to him
that they are not as before, taking duties
promptly and without shortcoming; they have
all taken a turn for the the middle aged
who will soon teach his children happiness is the
best medicine of all and that life should be
focussed on finding that without hurting anyone
the octogenarian takes over the the steps
of the middled age and they have slowed
so much sometimes he cannot even do it
without the help of someone or a stick
the octogenarian who will tell us that a life
of charity is better than one lived alone;
an all important lesson from the silver haired who will
soon bid goodbye to himself, the world and us all
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Always Remember
Always remember
your heart and mine,
remember September
when they were entwined.
Always remember
the love we had then
before the blowing
of an ill wind.
Always remember
the glow in our eyes,
how the fire danced
like evening fireflies.
Always remember
as we grow old
the love of September
when we were young.
Always remember
if one of us should pass,
we will meet again beyond the sunset
when our turn comes to pass.
Always remember
from this day on,
that our love for one another
will never be gone.
22 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Seeing Things That Are Not There
Sometimes our feelings
run deeper than they should,
we mix them with our imagination,
seeing things that are not there.
We see things out of context;
only imagine what
we want them to be,
then getting badly hurt
when we fall back
to the harsh reality.
23 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Half-Remembered
We touch things we see not
And know things we know not
And dream of sweet things that
We’ve not set in store,
We say things we think not
And do things we do not
And wonder at wonders
We’ve wondered before.
I see you in shades of
Another life’s colours
Where sweetness and pleasance
And love was the play,
Where green was the colour
You wore to the wedding
That bound me to see where
Your loveliness lay.
And wild was the country
We took for our mansion,
And green was the valley
And green were your eyes,
And seen were you riding
So high in the saddle
Of Pacer and Gracer
By Barking Wood rise.
I vaguely see visions
Of cottagers doorsteps
In winter-white mantles
Of featherdown snow,
And you looking on me
While glowing with love-light
As I took you on to
The valley below.
And sometimes I see when
I laid you in velvet
And stole a last kiss from
The lips we had shared,
And went on to mourn ‘til
The tides took my eyesight,
And left me to wonder how
Much you had cared.
Now when I awake with
These visions so fleeting
That fade and recede in
The glow of the dawn,
I look at you lying so
Peaceful beside me
And smile at the love shared
Before we were born.
We touch things we see not
And know things we know not
And dream of sweet things that
We’ve not set in store,
We say things we think not
And do things we do not
And wonder at wonders
We’ve wondered before…
21 August 1973
poem by David Lewis Paget
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I Couldn't Write The Poem I Wanted To Write
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write-
I do not know why exactly
Some days it works
And some nights it works
And some times it just does not work at all-
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write-
There have been so many things in my life
I have wanted to do
And not been able to-
As I grow older
I fear there will be more and more simple things
I will not be able to do.
So much of what we are
Is in these failures-
I sometimes think how sad it is
That I have failed in so many things-
All my life I have known failures
And it will not end until I do-
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write,
And this is not it, either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Only You Know & I Know
We know you really only wanna hear
The things we like to say
But if I said to you please dont do it
You do it anyway
Sometimes I know, we gotta be cruel
Be cruel to be kind
When I ask you, what you see in me
You say our love is blind
Cos only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Whenever I think I know you better
Better than I know myself
I open up and give you everything
Then you say, o.k. what else
And when I run away you always cry
You always over react
But I dont know if you know how you really feel
But you better know before I get back
Cos only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Just try to remember
Now Im the one you love
You told me, ooh try to remember
Im the one youre always thinking of
You told me, please try to remember
Before I walk away
Remember
Its not good enough telling me the way it was yesterday
Cos only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Only you know and I know
The things we mean to say, yes
Only you know and I know
The things we mean to say
Only you know and I know...
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Memory Of You
My Memory of You…
I can remember the first time we met, the way
Your smile just lit up my day
I can remember how you kept helping me up
When I was down
I remember everything about you,
Your hair, your eyes, and that smile
I can remember your piercing blue eyes…
That make me weak
I remember our first kiss, and the way
You were so nervous
I can remember how shy you
Used to be
I don’t have to remember how much I loved you
Because I still can’t live without you
I remember all the pain, hurt, and fear
You put in my heart and my head
I remember how much I wanted to embrace you in my
Arms and not let any thing hurt you
I somehow can remember all of this… but
I can’t remember why… why you tried
To take your life
I remember how scared I was that you
Would actually do it this time
I remember all those things
I remember you
This poem was written by
Racheal Vincent
poem by Ray Racheal Vincent
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These Things
I have this smile to hide me
And I have this cross to bear
I have your picture that still haunts me like your memory
These things have I
I have these words to lie to me
These stupid songs to share
I have these countless hours to fill the void you left me
These things have I
For all those things I've done
Let you down I apologize
But sorry's hard somehow
Seems so strange it'd be so easy now
But I've got this faith to blind me
And I've got these dreams we shared
And I have the fear that dreams are all I'll have that's
left to me
These things all these things
These things have I
These things all these things
There things have I
song performed by by Fuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Tells Time
My mirror tries to convince me that I’m old.
Yet I have a fresh face I’m told.
So these furrows in this body I behold, as
I recognize skin-deep beauty does not rebirth.
Still, I remember things way back yonder:
Sculptured summer grass,
Children ringing around roses
With Pockets filled with poses,
Barren tree leaves
Floating in the breeze...woman!
Waste no time on younger years
For the past archives them.
I’ll never be older than the goddess of art.
My lover, you'll never be older than thou art.
Let the earlier years delight in the older ones
For to understand the old-
The new must been known.
February 2,2008
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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As you get older three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two.
quote by Norman Wisdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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