Images Of The Past....
the images of the past
sometimes project themselves in the screen
of our minds
rivers where children bathe freely
boats that row to the crystal blue sea
green mountains to climb
we are amazed by said wondrous views
and the joys of our voices
reverberate the atmosphere
echoing on the corners of our memories
we shut the journey and we take hold of the present.
the grip now is too hard
because the winds are too strong and we are afraid
that to the past we will be forever blown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A silent murder
A silent murder
A whispering grave
Voices are spoken
But they all fade away
Left all alone
In this forsaken home
Pictures we'll bare
Lost long voices we'll share
Broken memories of the past
Where too good to last
So pack up your bags
This is your last chance
Voices we long to hear
Are crackled, unclear
And faces we miss
Are long lost in the mist
New people we will meet
Eyes don't leave our feet
For memories from our past
Were built strong, to forever last
Frame your past
Shatter your future
Lose yourself in the moment
Lose yourself in the past
Twisted lives, will forever last
Frame your past
Jump inside
Hate the moment
So feed me more lies
poem by Shannon daffsdffjk
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Memories of the past pain in the present
memories of the past pain in the present
A splash of the ocean
Brings back the memory
Memory that wishes to be forgotten
But keeps hunting
Tears fell as the past replay
Fist clutching tightly
As the hearts grip solemnly
Tears continuously streaming
Like a narrow and shallow river
Wishing that it will all gone
Like the sand washes by the sea
But it seems that memories of the past
Pains in the present for all eternity
By. d.c.d dtd.11.09.2009
poem by Desiree C. D.
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Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels
children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies
time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that
we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish
we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers
do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are
the river still flows and it will never stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Land Of Memories
Some days I like to sit
and close my eyes
drifting a million miles away
to the land of memories.
Just sit alone as if at
some old movie theatre
and watch images of my past
as they play across the screen.
Just sit and stare at nowhere
within the eyes of my mind.
Remembering and remembering
all the places, I have been and seen.
To listen again to the ode of love
that whispered through the trees,
feeling the warm winds again
that caressed my cheeks.
Sit alone from the daily grind,
disappearing into the canyons of my mind
and drift across my past
into the land of memories.
poem by David Harris
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Constant Time
Time past and the future give way to this present picture,
But can somebody tell me how to recognize that gate that leads to the bed of roses,
We speak about the future like the past is a grain of sand on the shore,
Washed away by the ocean tide,
Giving way to new grains to make a portrait of the present,
These past memories stay deep in our heart like the depths of the ocean,
Though it gets washed back to shore ones in a blue moon,
Reminding us that our past is a standard measurement of our strength,
Time moves so fast making the past to fade away,
this makes us seem so secured about the present,
Forgetting the fact that our present becomes our past that was once a present from nature as a new day,
Some take the future to be a dream and a wish,
But I take my future to be what I see when I stand from the bottom of the mountain to look at the top,
And my past to be the depth of the ocean that can always be washed ashore …
The only thing I can control is my present,
Yes cos my mind controls my hands to give you a flash of what goes on in my head
Like this words i write to you was once my future and will become my past, making my future my past and my past my future..So ironical isn’t it?
Standing here I sure know 1 thing,
I will reach the top by that foot path,
Yes of course it’s not to mean that I wouldn’t fall,
But I have to break myself off my present past and walk with grace to stand where I belong,
There where I am the king of my destiny,
The past is just going to be a page of memories,
And my future will become my present making time constant in my head,
Because I stand on my past which was once my present and my present which was once my future, making time equal and constant
As I flip thru this page of life,
By: ade
poem by Adeniran Oluokun
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Lifes a Journey
As I sit and look back at my life and the things I did, whether they were good or bad...I am here...
The past is my life long journey of truely finding my self.
My present is my life journey to correct my past mistakes and improve my present.
My Future is what I make of my present.
So I choose wisely because I only have one past, present and future.....
poem by Yahaira Perez
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I Asked the Voice
I asked the voice,
to lead me down,
the valley of despair,
rivers flowing with no care,
peaceful, sweetness all around,
blue birds singing their song,
butterflies so many,
I asked the voice,
of my troubles
my journey is done?
Oh no, many more to come.
Rivers flowing with much woe,
stand firm, take the flow,
hardships, up and down,
floating thru life,
having much strife,
in the end, its how,
you handle it all,
you surely will stand tall,
mountains will be moved,
Islands done away with,
your heart sound,
your feet on clouds,
so high,
things of life past,
memories faded away,
this day at last,
your life you have away cast
what you have done,
is over very fast,
and the journey,
has come to an end.
wrote 1-6-07
by Jim Foulk
Never Think Of Past
Never think of past
That might have ended fast
Think of present where everything is absent
You are with your strong body and present
Work for stable future
That may make your side secured
Work hard towards goal and make it sure
Nothing will go wrong and it will reassured
To think of past may be just suicide
The difference remains very wide
The past might be sweet or dark
Yet one must cautiously embark
Past must be kept in mind but for reference
Just to compare with it and take chance
To improve the present at the same time take lessons of the past
Never to look back with pain and confidently last
Past may always remind you of poverty
How were you in those days and feeling very sorry?
How were the pitiful days spent with worry?
Now left with no choice but to go ahead with mission to carry
Some of the strong steps are needed
Some drawback has to be accepted
Yet it should not mar your will power with strong resolve
Self effort with dedication and aim to solve
Leave behind everything and think of glorious tomorrow
Live in present, steer your course and allow
That shall never allow you to go slow
As you were coming with high sprit while lying low
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Journey To The Past
As I arise;
With my bare feet walk back slowly,
Back to where my heartaches lay;
I stride to step forward
Forward to the haunting past
Where my life is being caged
Dwelling in vague happiness
Imprisoned from failed hopes
Making my tomorrow covered with reeks
A journey to the past, my heart seeks.
Voices from nowhere, echoing;
“Be free;
Before you pursue your journey,
Let loneliness and confusions slip away,
Just be free from all your pain and sorrow.
So, your journey towards tomorrow, with glee
“Untangle yourself from the chain of yesterday,
Cleanse your heart from pain,
Loosen every bit of confusing thoughts,
Be free from nightmares of broken dreams
Let you life flows like glistening streams.”
Voices within me, whispers;
“Let me journey to my past,
Let me breathe again the coolness of the old air
That I may love the freshness of the new air
I can live my today and face tomorrow
With new beginning, of a new hope and new dreams”
My journey of growing, my journey to the past;
Bury each memory; the shadow of yesterday,
Quest a new life, living in reality
A new me.
_mAia_
100509
9: 30Am
poem by Maia Padua
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Song Of Starlings
WE'VE watched the starlings flocking past the statues
That we have often seen in other cities
Hope, Justice, Commerce and have heard them sing
Unvarying songs that are their memories-
Memories of winds that they've been blown by,
And rivers bordered with their beds of sedges,
And level lands on which are empty folds.
Daylight dims, and we
May not return to where a lamp
Beams, making a room familiar, and a wife
Tells of the children's doings: we hear the starlings
As we have heard them often in other cities,
Around other cupolas, along other cornices,
In sunless parks bunched on the tops of trees,
And see around us bleak, monotonous fields
Our hearts must ever hold theirs are these songs
These are the songs that most touch us exiles!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Forever and a day
You know my past
It's coming out bit by bit
I don't know if you'll run away
Or shut a blind eye
Because you mean I love you?
If you loved me you would
Forget my past
Know my future
And love the present
I hope you turn a blind eye
Because I want to be with you always
Your my future and my present
I want to spend forever in your arms
I want to be with you always
I want to be with you
Forever and a day
poem by Megan Watts
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Past-Present-Future
They spend no time together
Yet they're relatively linked
These three birds of a feather
Who march through time in sync
Present is right now
Past is just before it
Future rightly vows
Nothing will detour it
The past flies by too fast
It's movement so incessant
And with a final gasp
Bestows on us the present
The past is understood
When at present we look back
Most memories are good
But some do sadly lack
For the time that's yet to be
The future, as it's known
Let's prepare it present-ly
With good memories all it's own
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Echoes Of Time
My heart resides within the First Forest, where the trees are as big as mountains.
The wind gives voices to the Voiceless Ones,
and their leaves can be heard echoing through ages past.
Ghastly songs slither through rifts in time,
falling on me like the eldritch voices of dead children beckoning to me in my sweetest dreams.
How I await my exile to end.
To the Land of Evenfall my eyes ever gaze,
burning holes in the Echoes of Time.
poem by Soren Valentine
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Before Our Weakness Gets To Strong
What are we doing in this place alone is our desire to relive our past this strong
True love we knew in the past is gone but our weakness lingers on
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
Long ago we let the flame of love burn out of control
Now we have no reason to reach for love that has grown cold
If we live our past in the present our future will be gone
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
[ fiddle ]
Line with temptation we raced into the past
On a road too small to let the past and the present pass
Are we going too fast to turn back and leave the past alone
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
Long ago we let the flame...
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifes A Journey
I say life’s a journey, because life’s something we have once and everything we do and say is something we can’t go back and change. So I look at life as a journey. That I have to live full out, with no regrets. I don’t have time to live in the past or think about all the bad things. Almost all human being takes life for granted, and I don’t want to be one of those people. So I promised my self to never ever live with regrets, so I try to do whatever my heart tells me. And I try to stand up for all my believes, and I can’t do that if I live in the past or with regrets. It’s a waist of time,
Because life’s a journey.
I usually say if you got a dream go for it, because giving up on a dream is like giving up on life and giving up on life is like sitting and asking god to die. I know it’s hard to go for your dream when people tell you, that you won’t make it. So I just tell my self, whenever I fall I get back up, because I won’t give up without a fight.
Because life’s a journey.
What you’ve got if you don’t have faith, I know it’s hard to hold on to, when we live in a world like this. But I always hold on to my faith and my hopes.
My believes is what often keeps me going,
Because life’s a journey.
Life is hard, we all know it isn’t fair but I say stop worrying about what you/we don’t have and appreciate what you/we have. Because whenever you/we have a bad day someone else has a worse day and in worse case someone might be dying,
Because life’s a journey.
This world need some love, I know it’s easier to hate than love but at least could we try to respect each other. We would get so much more out of this journey then, I really believe that. Maybe sometimes we should just start to think about our self’s than everybody else. Because if we keep hate on each other, we will soon see world war 3, and I don’t think any one wants that to happen. I wish we could all respect each other, black and white, blue and yellow, bigger and smaller. Because at the end of the day we all human being on a journey that can end any time. It’s sad but it’s true,
Because life’s a journey.
Life’s a journey till the day it ends and when it ends there is no looking back or taking back. We had our changes only doomsday will show us if we wasted our time on our journey or if we enjoyed the journey and appreciated what we had. When we are at the end of our journey that’s when we have to face death. Many people forget we have to die because they might be afraid, but I’m not because it’s a part of life.
Life’s a journey till it ends.
poem by Precious Mason
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Dream Sequence
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Shadows across the floor
Memories fading in
Voices are far away
Now it can all begin
New york are on the phone
They want you here today
Was it a fashion show ?
Sorry they wouldnt say
Theres a world full of dreams
Lying on a pillow
Theres a world no-one knows
Wrapped up in her mind
(its all imagination)
Now she is back in school
(its the revolution)
Staring at broken glass
(do what we want you to)
Flicking the flies away
(total autonomy)
Watching the trains go past
Fighting the indian war
Cochise is closing in
Now she can touch his face !
Riding so close to him
Theres a world full of dreams
Lying on a pillow
Theres a world no-ones seen
Living in her mind
Sailing across a sea
Images on a screen
Watching the boats go by
Red merging into green
Roxanne dont run away
(youve been naughty girl)
I told you not to go
(stay in the garden)
Why do you run away ?
Mommy will sorry so
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images of Time
The images in my mind is like my thoughts.
Expressing my thoughts is like expressing my feelings.
Words are spoken.All my images are broken.
Broken down into pieces, which can never be made into new dishes.
Those images of past.It takes time to last.
It will last forever for met to take over.
All those images wore my past life.
But it has nothing to do with my past life.
Those images can be forgotten.But not those people.
Those people who are in your images.Can be in a real image.
When you see those people in front of you.
You like to say 'How are you'?
If they say I am fine.Then you will think of those time.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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When we reach the mountaintop
3000 steps up
we climb
we take the rope
beside a cliff
we keep our feet secure
we keep our grip strong
climbing this trail
toward the mountaintop
when we reach there
both of us
we see the whole city
cars running like ants
on its belly
people walking like
small worms
the sun like a bulb
the trees like some
feathers and the
other mountains
bald like brownies
the sea is so blue
from far
the horizon bold
like a departure
the boats sail away
to another island
the plane on a
touchdown on the
cemented pavement
near the shore
some green palms
on the river
look like leaves
of grass
some clouds we touch
cold to our hands
3000 steps up
one hour up to the sky
just to feel
this loneliness
we see what we want to see
we feel what we want to feel
then we go down again
without a word
for ourselves
too tired
we console ourselves
that was solitude
we shall now talk about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time
Time is a nonspacial continuum
In which events occur in obvious
Irreversible sequencing union:
Past, present and future, continuous.
What does all this mean to us in our lives?
Well, we have many memories don’t we?
Shared with our loved ones and our relatives.
Past experiences that once were new
Are now old, recyclable memories.
Those timely abstract musings cling to
Everyone: today's contemporaries.
The entire past is what we are anew.
The present is shaped by this time “before”
And hinged on what the future holds in store.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Journey with Lucy
in the darken room we hold
the imperceptible light of the candle
blackout must have taken away
the light that we borrowed to see
insufficient oxygen
for us to inhale
determination moved us
to travel along with the past
the ten-day journey
the recollection
the walk, the climb
the talk, the laughter
on foot we go
back to our memories
that has lead us to know
what has happened
and what is coming
this life may bring us
someday in the future
the journey with Lucy
thus taken only
in the classroom with me.
poem by Hazel Calumarde
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