Gone
For Laurie Hill
who suggested I write this.
Gone:
are the effervescent curves
of buildings that served
as lover's dreaming posts
in generation passed by.
Gone:
in the march of progress,
the landmarks of our youth
disappearing under bulldozers
and an expanding population growth.
Gone:
is all the heritage
that we grew up with
during our youthful summer
that was vacant with tears.
Gone:
like our youth
disappearing into nostalgia
with all the things we loved
only leaving stains in our memories.
3 April 2012
poem by David Harris
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Uncertain Weather
A day of uncertain weather
Captured in a frame forever
A face in a faded photograph
He must have had a life
Maybe with a family
People who meant everything to him
A sinner, a saint, a soldier
Caught up in a war he never
Had a chance to start or build a life
All gone long ago
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
To become just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
Hopes and fears important plans
Forgotten memories
Footsteps fading in the sand, ooh
Schemes and dreams small and grand
Nothing left to see
Footsteps fading in the sand, ooh
Someone who cast a shadow
Maybe just a lazy man
Doesnt make much difference now its true
A day of uncertain weather
Captured in a frame forever
A face in a faded photograph
All gone long ago
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
To become just a face without a name
One more to add to the total
Of those never heard of again
Yes hes gone
Just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
All gone
Just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth Youth Youth
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Don't wanna spend my life saving up for things
Don't wanna have what a steady job brings
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Don't wanna stay at home not making any noise
I've always got to be out
I've always got to have a choice
I don't want security
Don't want responsibility
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
Never wanna be an adult
Always wanna be in revolt
Youth youth youth
Youth youth youth
I don't want no uniform
I don't want no book of rules
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Venice Drowning
Venice breathing, shiny shoe mirrors of sex and violence,
In the purple evening silence, venice dreaming of a partner.
Fill your arms with breasts of marble, from the cradle to the table
Coax this naked treasure, from your saviour.
Come swim into my love
Come swim into my life
Divine blasphemer tempting, holly beads of jism
With a scarlet catechism, her lips will answer
(ah, her lips will answer)
How to be, the perfect stranger, the perfect lover - wanting
And as youll discover - giving, and as youll discover - being.
Come swim into my love
Come swim into my life
Enter this sublime corrosion
Venice drowning in emotion
-
(the body stirs, and is reanimated, only briefly,
But then life is very brief)
(come swim into my life)
(come swim into my life)
(ah-ahh ah-ah ah-ah-whoo heyyey)
Venice drowning!
Venice drowning!
Venice drowning!
Venice drowning!
Venice drowning!
Venice drowning! (slowly disappearing..)
Venice drowning! (slowly disappearing..)
Venice drowning! (slowly disappearing..)
Venice drowning!.... (slowly disappearing..)
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Memories Left
Searching my youth of another day
of time that went away
back in the old home town
with family and friends, brings a frown.
To be home again
of my search I begin
the places I remember are gone now
to progress they have bowed.
So many changes in the city
every thing gone, oh it's a pity
my youth was here for many years
to see how it's changed brings tears.
It's true you can't go home again
to the place it all began
memories is all I have left
to my heart the memories have cleft
Youth is blind
Youth is power; youth is vigour;
Youth is initiative; youth is revolutionary;
Youth is dedication; youth is freedom;
Youth is love; youth is passion.
Yes, because youth is blind
Out of them elders make winds
01.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Madrigal
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sports,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:-
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee-
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Golden Waves
As I languished on the sandy beach
in the summer of my youth,
a pretty maiden there beside me
watching the sparkling waves
turned golden by the sun.
What future dreams I had
of a life together as one
I cannot tell.
Time has robbed me of that memory,
all I know is if I had a dream
it was tarnished without repair.
Our lives together would never be
our worlds we would never share,
for as the summer faded
our love would soon be gone.
Her words imprinted forever
on my memory.
“I love you and don’t want to hurt you
so I am packing you up.”
Then walked away leaving me
with questions I could not answer
and memories of those golden waves
under a warm summer sun.
More years have passed
than I care to remember
and she is now a faded memory,
but her last words
still torment and haunt me.
3 March 2009
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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Old Man
I’m not that lover, filled with passion, -
That youth, who left the world amazed:
Alas, my spring and summer passed now,
And didn’t leave a single trace.
Cupid, the god of youth and love and virtue!
I used to be your steadfast servant;
Oh, if I could be reborn, - I’d serve you
Even more passionate and fervent!
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Sunset
There's no wonder,
You are loved.
No wonder...
Clouds and thunder,
Bow and step aside.
To allow such radiance,
To glow with the removal...
Of your presence shrouded in mist!
And the dew at dawn,
Slowly lifts!
With the announcement of your coming!
There is no wonder,
You are loved!
No wonder at all...
Joy appears.
To twinkles eyes,
And dry disappearing tears.
And when your rays,
Come to shine and stays...
Until you begin,
In the evening to descend.
There is no wonder 'you' are loved...
Sunset!
No wonder,
When the night comes to call...
This gift you bring,
Has delighted us all!
And there is no wonder...
You are loved.
In winter.
In Spring.
Summer...
And during the adventures,
Spellbinding Fall.
There is no wonder many find you,
In their hearts to reminisce...
Sunset!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
Generation To Generation
In a house which becomes a home,
one hands down and another takes up
the heritage of mind and heart,
laughter and tears, musings and deeds.
Love, like a carefully loaded ship,
crosses the gulf between the generations.
Therefore, we do not neglect the ceremonies
of our passage: when we wed, when we die,
and when we are blessed with a child;
When we depart and when we return;
When we plant and when we harvest.
Let us bring up our children. It is not
the place of some official to hand to them
their heritage.
If others impart to our children our knowledge
and ideals, they will lose all of us that is
wordless and full of wonder.
Let us build memories in our children,
lest they drag out joyless lives,
lest they allow treasures to be lost because
they have not been given the keys.
We live, not by things, but by the meanings
of things. It is needful to transmit the passwords
from generation to generation.
poem by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
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Never Die
Hands on a window pane
Watching some children laugh and play
They're running in circles
With candy canes and French braids
Inspired to question
What makes us grown-ups anyway?
Let's search for the moment
When youth betrayed itself to age
So let the children play
Inside your heart always
And death you will defy
'Cause your youth will never die
Never Die
In searching for substance
We're clouded by struggle's haze
Remember the meaning
Of playing out in the rain
We swim in the fountain
Of youth's timeless maze
If you drink the water
Your youth will never fade
So let the children play
Inside your heart always
And death you will defy
'Cause your youth will never die
Never Die
Never Die
Never Die
I won't let go of that youthful soul
Despite body and mind my youth will never die
I won't let go of that youthful soul
Despite body and mind my youth will never die
[Guitar Break]
So let the children play
Inside your heart always
And death you will defy
'Cause your youth will never die
So let the children play
Inside your heart always
And death you will defy
'Cause your youth will never die
Never Die
song performed by by Creed from Human Clay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever Changed
Train entering the city
I lost myself and never came back
Took a trip around the world and never came back
Black silhouettes, crisscrossed tracks, never came back
Forever changed
Forever changed
You might think Im frivolous, uncaring and cold
You might think Im empty, depends on your point of view
Society andy who paints and records them
The high and the low, never turn back
Forever changed
Forever changed
Forever changed
Forever changed
Got to get to the city, get a job
Got to get some work to see me through
My old lifes behind, I see it receding
My lifes disappearing, disappearing from view
Hong kong and I was changed
Burma, thailand and I was changed
A few good friends to see me through
Henry and brigid to see me through
Only art to see me through
Only heart to see me through
My old lifes disappearing, disappearing from view
Forever changed
Forever changed
I was forever changed
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloaks Of 23
I want you
but I know you
suspect this already
taking bites of it like
a ripe delicious apple
with those perfect teeth
looking at me
through the bedroom eyes
of nonchalant youth
feasting on admiration
and attention
from us over thirties
who crave in you
our last grasp at the youth
which was once ours;
now consoling ourselves
with work, money or security,
thinking just maybe
you'd swap the latters
for the true love of the
young men who surround you
in their twenties.
Youth never understands
that age
does not abandon its own youth
rather
our older faces relentlessly
cover its relentless
insurgencies smashing our illusions.
So it is not
just you we crave
but our own fading youth
you represent
as we find ourselves meandering down the years
our minds fixed on how we were
at 17 or 23.
The body defeats
ultimately our youthful sense of agelessness
but that is something that can never be explained
to young girls of 23.
In fact if you approached most of us
we would blush and flee
because it is not you we crave
but our own young selves
at 17 and 23-
selves which abandoned us
for the cheap price of fleeting years
leaving us as oarless dingys
floating on an aging seas.
So as we
console our sorrow
with money or power
which do not sate
we, too, gaze back longingly;
youthful pasts
represented by you
clad now in only our poor cloak
for what was once
our own youthful
youth.
So pass now
sweet sprite
by these older eyes-
apple core
to the ground-
because those seeds within
shall be rightfully
sewn
by other younger
youth's hands.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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My time is short.
My time is short I'm growing old.
The years pass by so speedily
Each day is worth much more than gold.
I greet each morning thankfully.
But time moves on remorselessly
.Although my memories enfold
My youthful days effortlessly.
My time is short I'm growing old.
Long ago when young and bold
I faced the future fearlessly
Perceptions changed as I grew old.
The years pass by so speedily.
I made my way successfully
And I grew rich as I grew old.
But life experience has taught me
Each day is worth much more than gold.
Time - cannot be bought or sold.
Time must onward steadily.
As the passing years unfold
I greet each morning thankfully
I've learned the only certainty.
Applying to both young and old
Both must accept reality.
My future can now be foretold.
My time is short Monday,16 April 2012
.
My time is shortMonday,16 April 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Maybe i could...
Summer sun conjures up memories of youth
And an equation of two like minds
Fractions of loving moments spent
Warm embraces defined;
Maybe i could consider you...
If the Spring of youth could return
If my years allowed new blossomings
If our long ago Summers could again burn;
But we have gone long past those days
Where deluges of passionate hours ruled
We've sailed through the burnished of Autumns
And our Winter 'tis no fool;
But the sun still conjures up memories
Even though the air, too soon, turns to ice
Remembrance 'tis forever Golden
It warms on these chilly Winter nights;
By: Theodora Onken
June 20,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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The end of this planet
People expect the end
of this planet
to occur at Armageddon
but slowly but surely
man is destroying
this planet by himself.
The ozone layer is disappearing
by contamination in the air,
the clean water resources are disappearing
by sewerage draining into streams
and with floods, vehement storms,
waves from the sea destroying and streaming over buildings,
drought, great heat and deserts appearing
man is solely responsible.
At Chernobyl in Russia,
at Three Mile Island in America
(maybe even in Japan?)
nuclear radiation
is escaping into the atmosphere.
Oil is washing out on the beaches
and the destruction
comes from the hand of man
who at the cost of others
are leading an existence
until havoc is everywhere
and nobody is able to live here.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Morning Flash
it comes as a flash.
A body.
At first it is just lines and curves.
There is no minding at all
about anything else.
Then follows the scent that
compliments
its newly acquired
existence
its desirability enhanced
by the warmth
of morning hues
by the window of the house.
The scent brings in some
memories of
youth
some places of the heart
like a grassy hill
and an
abandoned hut
faraway.
After a while it is not just
the body
but the tongue
and palms.
The mind starts to creep in
like a cloud
and sunshine from
the south.
IT demands something more
It is not just these memories
and feelings
those touches of hues
and colors and
scents
and eventually taste.
And then the movement.
It coils around you
This psyche
This soul and then you go deeper
into a form
of regret.
This is not the body that you like
But the lines and curves
of some long forgotten
circumstances that want to be
repeated
too often
but can never be
Because there is only one body
one soul
and it is not there
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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