A silhouette of childhood
Flow down, cold distilled rivulets never make it to the sea,
Your tribute waves into my childhood memories deliver:
Yet, no more by thee my old forgotten steps shall be,
For ever, and never again for ever.
Flow, softly flow by newly built houses; among reeds; by little lawn or lea,
A host of joyful rivulets never to join and to bond into a river;
Time has taken my steps away, not at your banks to be,
For ever and never again for ever.
But here still will smile your century old fig tree,
With a huge trunk and sturdy blistered boughs the wind will never shiver
A gang of cheerful kids with mouthful of figs sweet like honey bee
For ever in my silhouette memories; again and again for ever.
Here in my childhood scenes and voices I shall ever be
Under thousands of suns stream and moons sheen, figures dance and quiver
Even though not by these scenes my steps shall ever be,
For ever and for ever
I walked through your streets gaunt and grim; none of the past for me to see
I came to relive, to remember, to reminiscence but I was left an abundant receiver
My bosom sank; my voice choked gnawing within me
For ever and for ever under such burdening painful endeavor
Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved
Related quotes
A Farewell
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
No where by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
But here will sigh thine alder tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
poem by Alfred Tennyson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A Farewell
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.
But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The ship has left the empty coast
The ship has left the empty coast
Leaving behind him who is worried and lost
The ship has departed the desolate port
For ever or for a while short
The ship has sailed into the dark hazardous sea
An unretractable track, its fate what it to be
You are walking away from me love
A most dire constancy descending on me from above
If you are, I bid you farewell
Fare well to you and if forever
Still forever farewell and be guarded well
Even though gnawed with anguish and pain, never
Against you my heart rebel
Walk down away like a cold rivulet to the sea
Thee steps and the waves their tribute deliver
No more by thee my steps will be
And if forever let it be forever a never
Walk down away by lawn and lea
Walk a rivulet and hurry a river
No more by thee my mind will be
And if forever, let it be forever a never
Yet in vast pastures still for thee sighs a tree
And by thee a bush will shiver
Among sprout of balmy sprouts will hum the bee
And if forever, let the world be shaken and quiver
Let thousands of suns stream on thee
Followed by thousands of moon shot over thee head
But not by thee my steps will be
And if forever, let my heart forever be dead
It is in vain to struggle, let my love perish young
It lived as it lived; it loved as it loved dwelling in my breast
To dust if I return, from dust I sprung
And then at least my love can never be upset
Rather be it weaned than be ware out
To keep what it left behind beneath the cloud of doubt
copy rights 2010
Sweet Memories Of My Childhood Days
Sweet memories of my past
Like sweet gentle breeze upon the mast
Sweet ceaseless flow of the running stream
Sweet castles in my boyhood dream
Sweet tales of ages and places
Sweet memories of names and faces
Sweet whispering voices before dawn
Sweet ecstacies that linger on
Sweet glory of hard time overcome
Sweet hopeful days to come
Sweet cherished secret untold
Sweet tasted love of old
Sweet me, in most sweetest ways
Sweet undying memories of my childhood days! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wind Grave
After my dream
I throw all memories of peaceful days
Laugh and cry
Both will be forgotten
Yesterday and now
Are two different human
I’ll wash my past
Forgetting beautiful days
Because I will never love anyone again
Because I will never remember anyone again
So please forgive
Forgive me
I will never love anyone again but you
I can hear sadness voice
Sound of flow that keeps moving
River stream named ‘time’
Do you know where it goes in the end?
If we are walking against the flow
Can we even stop the time?
Kaze no bohyo
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tonight all windows are opened wide
Tonight all windows are opened wide
Tonight all hearts blasted in pain converge to heal
Tonight all gentle soft words pay to mend and to appeal
Between us they flow said undisturbed by vain pride
Time has traveled us so far
Broken heart shall we let it journey us forth more
To the end of our painful path; till the last dropp of love’s soar
Where finally we may find the virtue between us, the goodness of our stars
Someone is weeping on a pillow dry
Someone is gasping at the door knob asking why
Let all soft gentle words flow between two of us
And heal and cure all pains to the very last.
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
29
(jesse valenzuela)
Time wont stand by forever if I know its true
And Ive learned not to say never
Or else Ill seem the fool
Twenty-nine youd think Id know better
Living like a kid
When my lies may seem less than clever
Is when I fall for it
Only time will tell if wishing wells
Can bring us anything
Or fade like scenes from childhood dreams
Forgotten memories
Some rides dont have much of a finish
Thats the ride I took
Through good and bad and straight through indifference
Without a second look
Theres no intentions worthy of mention
If we never try
So hang your hopes on rusted-out hinges
Take em for a ride
Only time will tell if wishing wells
Can bring us anything
Or fade like scenes from childhood dreams
Forgotten memories
Only time will tell...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I stand and watch a tree of sturdy oak
I stand and watch a tree of sturdy oak
It braves against the rain, the sun and the gust
Thunder roars through its boughs with blast
Yet its leaves whitening in sight like a royal cloak
An oak proclaims against echoing dunes and scourging sun
Through the storm, tempest and chilly damp dark
Its boughs wave against torrents and bent in arcs
As it stands against the events like a calm nun
The clouds above its foliage are straining
The pale yellow woods around its trunk are waning
And a broad stream by its roots is complaining
Of heavy low skies constantly raining
With one black self reflected shadow at its feet
the oak through all its lush foliage shines
As summer haze brooding heat
And holy still silent in its dusty lusty vines
Oh I wish I had the strength and stamina of this oak
My life would be so much in a better clock
Copy rights 2010
All rights are reserved
Memories of Childhood
memories so many,
arent they sweet like honey?
i remember my childhood days;
when me and my sister lazed.
the time when i rolled in mud,
or; the time when i fell down
the time when i saw a meteor,
or; the time when i went to school.
the time when i threw stones at cows,
or; the time when i was chased by a mouse!
old memories are filled with fun and joy,
things to be remembered and loved.
and; time came for me to grow up;
to sit in the armchair;
to remember............................
(stuffed in my mind)
my childhood memories.
poem by Aparna Subramanian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two beneath a shady tree
They were two beneath a shady tree cover
An old oak tree with blistered trunk and bark failing over
Like the hand of an old man with frail eyes
Yet leaves and fresh sprouts from its boughs shot to the skies
An old sturdy oak tree under summer sun
In mid of golden wheat clustered by the wind run
The waves of the wheat heads combed by gale and breeze
As the two set and made themselves at calm ease
They set and watched the golden field swaying in dance
The broken roar and the dim din of a remote city at horizon glance
She was beautiful and shy like a violet by a mossy wall stone
She set by him hidden and through his eyes she was only his own
They set beneath the tree, their life yet untrodden path
They spoke the first verses of love with joy and laugh
What was to come they knew not; merely the glory of that hour to bear
since they were innocent and pure; the masters of the days that were
They gathered roses from the field while they may
Unaware of old time that was still to carry them flying
A world so harsh where love grows and fleets away
They fell to play losing no time in grieving and sighing
And so they sat beneath an old oak before the sun in dusky skies
veiled his fair locks of child hair while he did spy
The unclouded luster that dwelled in her slaying eyes
Her bashful beauties once descried
The vanquished flowers around lost their pride
And in their vermilion buds their blushing they did hide
Losing their balmy fresh summer smell
They would never admit or tell
How much her sweets by far their own did excel.
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
The River That Murmurs
I will ask the river, that flows serene
I will speak to the sky
I will ask the river that murmurs
Not to ask me why
I cannot speak for myself.
That time has long since passed me by.
The river can murmur and sing
Unspent by passion: my voice
Will break like a terribly taut string.
My words will be grammatically and academically
Twisted (like that leafless tree) , unfortunately!
I want the river to speak, to speak
Alone, alone with thee.
The river can, softly and without tears
Tell you my dreams and my fears
I know you will listen:
And while city lights in the water glisten
You wont see the tears that shine on my face
No, that is a serious, sentimental place
That only I know;
Flow, river, flow.
Flow, river flow.
Speak to the only love I know.
Daybreak approaches soon
You and he by the light of the moon
Will murmur whilst I -
Will wait for you to bring me his reply.
poem by Rani Turton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Steps
Maybe one step ahead, maybe two
I could ease my day a little
Maybe two steps ahead, maybe twenty
I won’t be chased in doing my work
Maybe twenty steps ahead, maybe plenty
I could enjoy my day at peace
Maybe plenty steps ahead, maybe more
I won’t be surprised by any outcome
Maybe more steps ahead, maybe none
I let my life to be freely flow
Maybe no step ahead, maybe just one
I could focus on what I want to achieve
Maybe one step ahead, maybe two
I could take a little nap
Maybe two steps ahead, maybe twenty
I won’t be alerted every time
Maybe twenty steps ahead, maybe plenty
I could prepare the worst
Maybe plenty steps ahead, maybe more
I won’t be bothered by all strategy maneuvers
Maybe more steps ahead, maybe none
I don’t really care about that anymore
Maybe no step ahead, maybe just one
I won’t waste my energy to worry
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And the was
And the was like it never had been
As if it is forgotten to be a never happen
It drifts away into the far mists of the past
Lovers first sight, zeal rapture and the engulfing lust
Time is a generous entrepreneur it let us grow old
The memories will be encapsulated in thin fragile patina
Being dappled with daily events unlikely attendants in our arena
Thus the was story never happened its shadow flickers into me cold
It is the world habit that love asks more than life can give
And once this lesson learned all essence is earned
Yet in its self web of fantasy and dreams love is its own fugitive
Rebellious, tenacious, delirious unwilling to give or to bend
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
Far Memory.
I’m haunted by strange memories
of places I have never been
I can remember vividly
Street scenes I know I have not seen
It’s very strange and puzzles me.
I cannot see how possibly
I have access to memories
I know do not belong to me.
I see street scenes from long ago.
Though where they are I do not know.
The clothes are unfamiliar.
To me they seem peculiar.
I think it may be Budapest.
But honestly that’s just a guess.
It could be almost anywhere.
But I am sure I’ve not been there.
My wife suggests telepathy.
I do not see how it could be.
A temporal anomaly
which can’t exist apparently.
The learned experts all agree
it’s an impossibility
But can’t explain how I can see
Scenes from the eighteenth century.
I have a photograph which shows.
People in old fashioned clothes.
Which was taken in old Moscow
More than a hundred years ago.
Establishing the verity
Of the intrusive memories
The scenes I see so vividly.
Though how remains a mystery.
I know they are real memories.
Although the experts disagree.
I hope to prove eventually
these memories have reality.
They are passed down genetically.
Encoded in our DNA.
I will research my family tree
and try to prove it come what may.
Although it’s just a theory.
I will pursue it ardently
Some body in my ancestry
may well turn out to be.
A man who lived in old Moscow
Who emigrated to the west.
Although perhaps I’ll never know.
It gives my life an interest.
I like to think that there might be
somebody in my family tree.
Who will prove to be the key
which will unlock the mystery.
Of who perhaps I used to be
in the eighteenth century.
Which would explain the memories
apparently passed down to me
Saturday,21 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The River Bank
the waters rise
and all my steps are taken
back to the
sands
of the river
in this place where you live
decently
when you come too early
you will see
what steps have i taken
and where i have been going
at noon when the children play
everything is mixed up
and you shall ask
what is the matter
the children when they are gone
leave you marks
and you do not understand
at the river banks of our youth
finally
all the steps when we get old
turn
into forgotten stories
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Recognize Your Voice
I recognize your voice, your cheerful laughter,
when I enter a room full of people
and even your soft steps each day
catches me with a tingle time after time,
through your beauty that flowers continually.
I recognize your voice, your cheerful laughter,
sometimes it feels as if you are waiting on me
but constantly you do astound me
and even your soft steps each day
has a kind of skipping to them
and with being in love I am stupid.
I recognize your voice, your cheerful laughter,
sometimes hear it echoing at night
although your face is disguised by the darkness
and even your soft steps each day,
but our love is not a game of force
and still continually you turn my life upside down.
I recognize your voice, your cheerful laughter
and even your soft steps each day
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memory Lane
Do you ever hear a haunting refrain,
Which takes you back to that moment again,
When memories flow and scenes are set,
And you, once more, relive the time you met.
How perfect, were those days back then,
Those days of romance, and the instant, when
Love hit you with a painful jolt,
And exquisite pain, you didn't want to halt,
And playing along was a haunting refrain,
So let it now take you, down memory lane.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thy Nightly Gown, Thy Shoes, Thy Shows and Bed of Roses
Thy nightly gown, thy shoes, thy shows and bed of roses
Bring back thy cap, thy kirtle and the thousands of poises
Soon, too soon they break, too soon wither, hast to be forgotten
In folly ripe, in dash to edge, in madness or reason rotten
Belt of straw and ivy meadows with sprouting buds
Coral clasps and spring with amber studs
All these in me no means can tarnish or move
To come to thy and be thy eternal love
But can youth last, and love still breed
Have joys no date, no limits no age no need
The shades and memories of these delights of love
Will prove any age or time's blemish of you my precious dove
Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved
From the Banks of Ganga: IV
I sit by your banks
In awe of your flow
A parallel flow within
Watches every ripple:
Indefinable happiness
Peace is absence of
Even a ripple of thought
What follows peace is bliss
I suppose…
Loitering and searching
The best place to meet
The loved one is by
One's own banks of the heart
Where flows Gangs of love
The flow overwhelms me
Doesn't allow me stretch my hand
For the other…
I'm unto myself!
So you flow
So do I
Not against your tide
But with your flow
Flow Flow Flow!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!