Childhood Memories
Each hour that passed and every moment
Gone by become a memory
There will be sad ones but most happy and gay
Childhood memories like models of clay
Sunny days spent along the river edge
Resting in clumps of clover
Picking flowers to overfill
Endless hours spent on violet hill
A race to the very old tree
With a feeling of being so free
To dance around it's matronly base
Every one ready go let us chase
That elusive butterfly purple and blue
The world only belonged to me and you
A plunge in the river immersed in emerald green
In touch only with silence a silver sheen
Drifting down to pebbles and stalks
A world of pleasure beyond believe
It once was mine but not to keep
poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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South Of The River
how can i forget south of the river?
in May, the flowers are red all over the bend
in April the purple plums are ready for the picking
in March, the river is clear the pebbles showy
for our frolicking and swimming,
we first kissed there behind that heart shaped rock
south of the river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
Green Grow the Rashes
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
The warl'y race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' warl'y cares an' war'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We Used To
Mmm....
We used to walk through fields of green
We used to sit by clear blue streams
We used to be so happy
Me and you
We used to do such silly things
We used to make love in the rain
We used to
Yes, we used to
Then you went away
Leaving me with the memories we made
Memories of those sweet yesterdays
Spent with you
Spent with you
And even though youre gone
I still think so often of you
And the things that we no longer do
Like we used to
Oh we used to
We used to be so much in love
We used to kiss and hold and touch
We used to find so many things to do
We used to laugh and plan and dream
We used to own the world it seemed
We used to
Yes we used to
Then you went away
Leaving me with the memories we made
Memories of those sweet yesterdays
Spent with you
Spent with you
Oh and even though youre gone
I still think so often of you
And the things that we no longer do
Like we used to
Oh we used to
La...mmm....
Ahh....
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The memory river
The memory river painting all of our memories *
Together we passed all of heart solitude*
Followed swift the life flow*
Hoped we love never death*
Constant we needs wrote the story*
The memory river was the picture we have long hopes*
Where all followed the lines of the Lord*
We said was together we have the sorrow*
We said was broken become two*
I'still remember we have ever sitting near in the silent river of silence*
I'still remember we have conscience crying*
Your conscience always said*
Where i'saw sincere from my heart eyes*
The memory river flowed heade the area ocean*
The memory river never dry forevermore*
I'need we said like the river memory*
Never dry we love forevermore*
Spring
The alder by the river
Shakes out her powdery curls;
The willow buds in silver
For little boys and girls.
The little birds fly over
And oh, how sweet they sing!
To tell the happy children
That once again ’tis spring.
The gay green grass comes creeping
So soft beneath their feet;
The frogs begin to ripple
A music clear and sweet.
And buttercups are coming,
And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows
The dandelions shine.
And just as many daisies
As their soft hands can hold
The little ones may gather,
All fair in white and gold.
Here blows the warm red clover,
There peeps the violet blue;
O happy little children!
God made them all for you.
poem by Celia Thaxter
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Tripping...
you go places
riding on a bus
transferring to a boat
sitting for a moment
on a port
seeing people disembarking
on a plank of wood
outside a launch
you see children lifted by their fathers
mothers with umbrella
sunny days
a line of green trees along the
seemingly endless road
more days to
circumnavigate an island
of white sands
night when you are alone with
everyone
staying for a while
checking their bags and
clothes
days are going fast
passing you by
on wish not to hold on any hour
you flow
like a river, yes always like a river
not a part of you wishing a clog
a barrier
you are like a rubber stretched
nothing snaps
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Childhood Memories
Childhood memories are often steeped in mystery.
The older we get the memories exclude
sometimes things we might find painful as we journeyed on.
I tried to visualise my childhood as a happy one,
though I know in my heart it was a very much lonely one.
Not only was I shy, but I never mixed very well.
I spent so much of my time nearly always on my own.
The only exciting time I can remember
was one summer I spent with friends of my father
whom I referred to as Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim.
For the two months I spent with them
in a small town called Allison
hold some of the best memories of my childhood.
It was away from my parents
and into someone’s house that cared.
I went fishing every day
in the stream at the end of the garden,
made many friends
and had one of the most enjoyable times
of my childhood
that will always live within me.
5-6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Blue Grass And Green Skies
the grass is blue
the skies are green
the sea is black
the sun is violet
the river is grey
the flowers are silver
the mountains red
i lost my sense of color
my sense of touch
i lost my logic
without you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Illegal and Forbidden (2nd revision)
Changed chameleon-like into my
purple-pink office regalia - symbolised
by fleece, blanket and flowers in pink,
changed to blue by windscreen shade
held in place by green cool drink
bottles and blue dictionaries to block
icy air-flow from our Siberian air-con
wearing a man's blue jacket illegally
negates attempts to blend purple
and gold; chilled I drank illicit coffee,
ate forbidden chocolate; showed my
pink, purple, violet and green note-
book to my friends, Ulrike, Hanlie,
Winston, a waitress and Alet
blue aura amends to Tinker Bell green
but pink fleece vanishes into indigo
sheen - after mind enriched tooth
brushing I'm ready to tackle menacingly
illegible arrest warrants advising
heinous criminality tho' delinquency
like mine remains unnoticed
Thank God for that…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I Remember Once When I Was A Little Child
i remember
when i was a little child
i once climbed a tree
to take a look of those
down below me.
i simply sit there
and feast my eyes
on the tall mountain
far away from me.
i see a winding river
flowing to the sea.
i see memories.
i am a little child.
i am the father of
that sadness that
i left behind a rock.
i am the image of
that little boy
behind your face.
i am not noise.
i am the silence
of a very faraway
memory on that
cone mountain over
there with a snow
cap.I am my
small world like
a bird perched on
a twig. A small patch
of green grass. A handful
of clouds drifting on
my shoulder. I am
a silent memory.
I am listening inside
my little corner.
This heart still
of a little boy.
Always wondering.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Panning for Gold on the Fortymile
I spent a summer panning for gold
on the Fortymile River at Tom's place
not far from Chicken
in Alaska
I remember the sunny days
and the hours scratching
in the cold river
The dark waters yielded
little but chicken-feed
specks of ore
separated from river sand
by centrifugal machines
powered by gas
chitty chitty bang bang
and a handful of bright
stuff I culled
I still got a coffee can
of river sand and chicken-feed
downstairs in a tool chest
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Elusive Butterfly
Breeze blowing across my face
even the wind leaves a trace
gazing at wavering trees
petals floating in the breeze
For a brief moment in time
I thought maybe you'd be mine
but they were only dreams
and dreams are never what they seem
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
Raindrops falling at my feet
why does love taste bittersweet?
butterfly's dancing in the trees
and then float off in the breeze
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
poem by Jonny Soze
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River Feeling
River feeling is
As simple as
Closing your eyes
For a moment.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
As smooth as
Everything after
The first step.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
easy as forgetting
Walking boots.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
nice as
iron ties
Coming off.
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything is good and flows
like river
poem by Julian Mann
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A Dream in Winter
When all the daisies and daffodils
are buried deep below,
and summer's but a memory
hidden 'pon the drifting snow ~
'tis there beneath the whitened glow,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the dreams of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When all the trees are bared and bent
against wintry winds that blow,
and spring is but a wistful sigh
'pon the branches that bow low ~
'tis there within the boughs so wide,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the buds of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When roses fade 'pon winter's morn
as their petals flee on frosty breath,
and thorns are left to sadly yearn
in their bed of beauty's death ~
'tis there beneath those roses grown,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives a vision of springtime hue
with a gleam of pastel sheen.
When winter brings a world of white,
a wonderland of icy glow,
and ends the seasons of green, and gold,
hidden 'neath a field of snow ~
'tis there the sleeping earth awaits
in a bed of springtime green,
sighing softly through winter's chill,
'pon a dream of emerald sheen.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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River Of Love
Oh how i miss those days we spent by that old river.You and me sitting and looking up at the stars.Every little problem just disappeared into the night.
I looked you in those breath taking eyes and we would just get lost in our feelings.I look up at orion and those stars remind me of the river of love.
Those nights we spent together laying on the ground and just holding each other in our arms.Singing on the banks of that river and hoping it would never end.Oh how i miss that river of love.
poem by Jonathan Amador
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A Silent River Part2
Sunday is a holiday
I'do again
I'makes again
The memories of the silent river
I'come again
To remember
I'have ever love and miss
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
The memories of the silent river
I'felt his love again in this river
I'felt his longing again in this river
I'felt his kindly again in this river
And i'see again his softly face in the water
In this silent river, silent so silence
The silent river
Makes me remember
I'miss again
the silent river
Makes me to get so many things
Sitting nearby silent river
Come to me the lonely
Come to me the long yearning
Come to me the tears
Come to me the rain
The silent river keep my memories good
In the silent river, silent so silence
Save me now, from all the dejected
To spin around all back
This silence is geeting on my nerves
Were i'am so afraid
You were to be lost in thought
And all was lost to me
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
Open Hearts Are The Soul of The World
Regret not for now the world’s forgetting
In living awe for the sun in setting
Embrace the all, the one, your god.
Seek him in the eyes of the blind.
Find him in the strength of the weak.
Devouring eternity in an instance
Regurgitating – rejuvenating
Breaking the boundaries of tunnel realities
Open hearts are the soul of the world.
I have been as I have seen
The breathing blue beyond the green
The soaring serpent, shining white
The wingless dragon, black as night.
Can you sense within the seasons shifting
The gift of life, all rivers drifting?
The days they wash away the hours
This life of mine, this life of ours
This life is as a mothers kiss
A comfort lost, a frozen bliss.
Impulse - Instinct.
Extinct in this world of plastic smiles.
Come dance with me a while
Come dance a roman mile.
I beg of you
Come dance with me.
Set illusion free.
I beg of you
Come dance with me
Dance divine reality.
poem by David Lacey
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Forever Together
There it stands.
That fateful tree.
The tree out in the field,
the one from when I was a child.
The one where I spent endless hours doing nothing.
The tree that I did homework at.
This tree holds so many memories.
Enough to fill it from the top to bottom.
Happy memories, sad memories, angry moments,
All the good times and all the bad.
This is the tree of love.
Where I had my first kiss.
Three times...
This is the tree where I was born.
This is the tree that I will be buried under.
I love this tree.
It loves me.
We know each other so well.
Our hearts are one.
They have been for quite some time,
but Here I come.
Wait no longer lone tree.
I will be with you forever now.
It's been awhile hasn't it?
The police took their sweet time didn't they?
That isn't a factor now.
We are in the process of being united.
It won't be long now.
Forever together.
It won't be long.
Forever.
Forever...
poem by Zac Beemer
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Free River
Free River flow, Free River
so cold, Free River
you’re getting old.
Free River don’t cry, Free River
you’ve run dry.
I still see you through my youth’s eyes.
Free River you told no lies, Free River
your path has been made, Free River
all things change.
Free River you made it to the sea.
The friends I swam with once
are now gone, left only me.
Free River you’re worth more than gold, Free River
I've grown old.
I’ve lived by you my whole life and
I’ve left my seed through my wife, Free River
I lie at your shore; now dry,
Free River it’s my time to die.
poem by Patrick Dumas
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