O My Long-Lost Playful School Days...!
o my long-lost playful school days,
come back into me in slow steps,
yes, not on fleeting feet to vanish in a moment-
o my distant friends, lend your carefree voice
as of those cheerful days on sands and soil-
o how i wish to be amongst you all again and again,
with no added years on our backs, on holidays
when we in total abandon, rolled on the riverbeds
in innumerable games divining our own rules-
alas! the cruel time has snatched all of you
and hid you from sight and memory for ever-
how many are alive today to hear my grieving call?
i sink in tears over the irretrievable loss
of those adolescent years that roared like waves
spraying bubbles of joy on the shores of youth!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Related quotes
The Best School of All
It's good to see the school we knew,
the land of youth and dream.
To greet again the rule we knew,
before we took the stream.
Though long we've missed the sight of her,
Out hearts may not forget:
We've lost the old delight of her,
We keep her honour yet.
Chorus:
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
The stars and sounding vanities
That half the crowd bewitch.
What are they but inanities
To him that treads the pitch?
And where's the welth I'm wondering,
Could buy the cheers that roll
When the last charge goes thundering
Towards the twilight goal?
Then men that tanned the hide of us,
Our daily foes and friends,
They shall not lose their pride of us,
However the journey ends.
Their voice to us who sing of it,
No more its message bears,
But the round world shall ring of it,
And all we are be theirs.
To speak of fame a venture is,
There's little here can bide,
But we may face the centuries,
And dare the deepending tide;
for though the dust that's part of us,
To dust again be gone,
Yet here shall beat the heart of us,
The school we handed on!
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Evergreen School Days........
Our evergreen school days
will not come back again
From the nursery to high school
we learnt the best
and the best that taught by our teachers
Our school life was full of cheers
and lived with full of mischievous
but the discipline was maintained well
We sang and danced without
thinking of our future.
We spent money without earned them
When the school start after the vacation
we meet our friends happily and
welcomed new friends dearly
We played all the games and we won
many games with out care of sun or rain
Many years have been gone
today we live different parts of the world
but the memories of our school days
will live in our hearts as ever green days.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Goodbye
As I sat here through my tears
I look back on all the years
Games we lost and won
The prom where we had so mch fun
Having fun with great laughter
We all lived happliy ever after
As I walked down the hall for the last time
realizing I never again here that tardy bell chime
Ditching school because we
were way too cool
I can never take back those days
and now is it to late to
Make an amends with
old best friends
For now I say, from today til forever
Goodbye to all that came my way.
poem by Katie Evans
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Twenty-nine Thousand Four Hundred Seven Sunsets
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
In the early days by my mother’s side,
Though she’d often tell me of the sun and of the sea,
I seldom watched, and never for long,
The slow dissolve,
The melt and plunge,
Now you see it, now you don’t-
So many sunsets lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
The years of my youth were marked by friends and sport,
Often whole days on the beach-
Raging winds and mammoth waves
Or a still, glass sea, not a cloud in the sky,
And every shade in between.
I rarely fathomed the myriad shapes and colors,
An ever-changing landscape-
So very many sunsets lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
The middle-aged years pinned me to my work;
Yet through a window from time to time,
Or on holiday, if I risked the break,
I’d notice how lovely a sunset could be-
So very many sunsets lost forever.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
At last, in these final days, each sunset is anticipated, craved.
Regardless the mood of the sea, it will receive the sun.
No matter the face of the sky, it will let go the same.
The sun itself, always churning, always burning,
Swells with new brilliance, new radiance and splendor
Each time it approaches the sea,
Then morphs into a molten pool on the sea’s surface
Before plunging from view-
Never more a sunset lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
Then one glorious day,
The day of my twenty-nine thousand four hundred and sixth sunset,
And I at my usual place along the shore,
Saw the sun rise out of the sea from where it had just set!
The sun rose back up into the sky, and
In the very next moment on the very same day, it set again.
I experienced my twenty-nine thousand four hundred and seventh sunset,
The second in one day!
Oh glorious day!
A sunset gained.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
(In 2 Kings 20: 9-11 the Lord made the shadow go back 10 steps. Certainly, at that exact moment, somewhere in the world, someone saw the sun dissolve on the horizon and then rise again.)
Good Old Days
Oh some times I think back to when I was younger
Life was so much simpler then
Dad would be up at dawn
Hed be watering the lawn
Or maybe going fishing again
Oh and mom would be fixing up something in the kitchen
Fresh biscuits or hot apple pie
And Id spend all day long in the basement
Torturing rats with a hack-saw
And pulling the wings off of flies
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
I can still remember good old mr. fender
Who ran the corner grocery store
Oh, hed strolled down the aisle with a big friendly smile
And hed say howdy when you walked in the door
Always treated me nice, gave me kindly advice
I dont know why I set fire to his place
Oh Ill never forget the day I bashed in his head
Well you shouldve seen the look on his face
Let me tell ya now
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
Do you remember sweet michelle
She was my high school romance
She was fun to talk to and nice to smell
So I took her to the homecoming dance
Then I tied her to a chair and I shaved off all her hair
And I left her in the desert all alone
Well sometimes in my dreams
I can still hear the screams
Oh I wonder if she ever made it home
I tell ya
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
Let me tell ya buddy
Those were the good old days
Those were the good old days
The years go by but the memory stays
And those were the good old days
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was Born When Cameras Were A Luxury
i was born when cameras were a luxury
far removed from the middle-class homes-
no faded and moth-eaten photographs
to spring memories of my lost childhood
from those frozen frames-
what were my thoughts and fancies then?
memories are blind and dumb
till i was six years old-
none cared too to remember my acts
to retell when i yearned to learn about my baby life-
really sad that i am unaware of those casual days
when life was given no special importance,
soaking in flashes of lights-
who knows what i prattled
and how i spent my idle hours in play-
o how many years of autobiography
have i lost in dim darkness?
must be the same for every guy of my age-
o time, walk back in slow steps into my toddler's days;
reveal me the imprints of my kid steps on your sands-
as i ripen in age, the hunger grows more for my baby years!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crime of Life
Life seems but a memory of years
Gone by too fast.
Before we can live the present,
The future is the past.
Tomorrow is yesterday;
An instant is today.
The present is just a pause
Along past's fleeting way.
Seconds tick, days go by
And years bow out of sight.
Time speeds on as days are born;
Then devoured by each night.
Mankind's curse is overlooked
By Old Father Time, who steals
Our precious gift
With life's most hideous crime.
This crime of life is in its passing;
The days, the years that fleet by.
Almost before a chance to live,
It seems we're given a chance to die.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Tip of My Memory
On the tip of my memory
of a time so distant
sitting at kitchen table
watching my mother.
She was cooking one of her
fine means, as she always did,
remembering how young
she was.
Miss those days of old
when we would just talk
of her telling me of her youth,
now I'm older than she was then.
All of this just on tip of
my memory, so long ago
as days go by, memory fading
away to days so distant.
(4-21-07)
Homeland
Remember that summer down by the shoreline
I still can hear those old forgotten songs
And we made promises to last forever
I just cant believe those days are gone
There used to be a place that we could call our own
We used to think tomorrow was a long , long time
But sadness filled my heart
When I knew the moment had come
When I had to leave those days behind
I felt so free where I wanted to be
The days went so fast how I wish they could last
So far from my homeland Im lost in time
My souls still searchin for that peace of mind
Those sacred landscapes come miles around
And my hearts still beatin for those country grounds
Remember when our hearts were filled with laughter
It echoes in my trail of fallen tears
But no matter where I am today
Or what the future might bring
I will remember those long gone years
I cant let go I wanna know
Does it have to end for the best of friends
So far from my homeland Im lost in time
My souls still searchin for that peace of mind
Those sacred landscapes come miles around
And my hearts still beatin
For those country grounds
Lord I know that those days are gone
Long, long, gone
I felt so free where I wanted to be
The days went so fast how I wish they could last
song performed by by Europe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory Loss
Indeed we live in troubled times
Our days filled with angst n’ worry
Good folk committing petty crimes
Blindly going nowhere in a hurry
Some complain of “Memory loss”
Whilst caught up in hurtful foment
Their days lived in utter chaos
Forsaken; “Living in the moment”
When events speed up slow down!
Deliberate; then proceed
‘Lest you quickly sink n’ drown
For it’s your loss when lifetime tallied
Life is best when you’re the boss,
And there’s no need for memory loss
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
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John The Fisherman
When he was young youd not find him doing well in school,
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolescent ridicule,
He has no time for farmers daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says john this is not the way lifes supposed to be.
Dont you see the life that you are missing?
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Now years gone by we find man that rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark may morning .
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesnt see the danger dawning.
Four hours up, oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
The starboard bow. oh my God were going down!
The do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Ill live and die a fisherman.
Calling john the fisherman.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The School Days are near!
Same shrieking morning alarms,
Same morning fear!
The school days are near, The school days are near!
Sleeping in the bathroom,
From out, Mom shouts, '' DO YOU EVEN HEAR? ''
The school days are near, The school days are near!
So drowsy I am,
Confused, don't know what to wear!
The school days are near, The school days are near!
And entered into the school,
Murmuring silently, '' Oh dear! Oh dear! ''
The school days are near, the school days are near!
And if the first period is Maths,
Not again those equations linear! !
The school days are near, the school days are near!
A look at the load of books,
From the corner of my eye drops a tear!
The school days are near, the school days are near!
Gosh! When will vacations come?
We'll have to wait an year!
The school days are near, the school days are near!
Hoping when we go,
We'll find joy, sheer!
The school days are near, The school days are near! ! : D
poem by HudaM DeGratePoet
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Good Ole Days
Oh, the good ole days,
why can't this day be,
the good ole days
thinking of those days,
long ago, when old age,
was on the horizon,
childhood just a step behind,
yesterday just a memory,
childhood memories when,
oh, so carefree
today the present,
will be those good ole days,
when old age is upon us
we once again wished we
were back in time and,
oh so care free.
wrote 12-31-06
My School Days
Now-a-days where is that cheer,
unless i call up friends to have a beer,
Just like mist gone we are apart in many ways,
But where are my School days.
Now-a-days where is that enthusiasm,
for i bump into people with only sarcasm,
we sail world over on a ship,
unsuccessful even to strike a good friendship,
We have indeed drifted in many ways,
But where are my School days.
Now-a-days where is that laughter,
I hear just laughs to flatter,
true friends were those who where just there,
to say 'Hey we really care'
Scattered are we in many ways,
But where are my School days.
We are born with faces,
and now with a 'book',
we are now connected in many ways,
Where i come to cherish my School days.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Reminiscenes
Oh those days gone past my era of joy,
“Come back – come back’’ I’m yelling
now. Still today when the memories
of those days flashback, a moment of
smile returns with the images of a few
happy friends holding hands and
Rejoicing-rejoicing in the small school
of Jnaneshwar. The river of love was
flowing in full swing, here-there,
everywhere was joy and joy and amidst
that joy lived some joyful friends happily.
we will never meet, my dear friends, all
of us once again and even in this
tearful life of today the slight memories
of those days bring back the smile on my
face. Oh those days gone past my era of
Joy- “please come back”.
Violent tides battle in the ocean of tears
each day that I remember the days gone
past in to the pages of memory, and the
Harbor though strong and resistant soon
falls apart as the teardrops wet my cheeks.
The stream of life haunted through the coot
and hern and joy bubbled at each fall until
it made a sudden sally and listed a thousand
miles between us which changed all. Late at
nights I’ve often awoken to cry for the laughter
that reverberates in my dreams, and soaking my
tears, I’ve often turned back expecting your eyes
which never allowed me feel solitary and I’ve passed
each day hoping that this day is the last day of
separation but the time is the arrow which once
shot, never really returns back.
Oh those days gone past my era of joy, don’t
Leave me broken, torn and lovelorn-
“Please come back.”
poem by Saket Suman
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My Friends Back In My Prime Years
My friends back in my prime years I never did disown
It's just that I live far from them and apart we have grown
We drank and played football together but our separate ways we've gone
And we have forged new friendships and life of course goes on.
My friends back in my prime years may now look a bit gray
And they might not know me or I might not know them if by chance we met today
In my memory they have remained young but in reality
The years have left their mark on them as the years have left their mark on me.
Old father time the aloof one to anyone doesn't bow
And some of my friends of my prime years may be grand parents now
Perhaps they now are showing their age and time has left them slow
They could run fast as I recall some twenty years ago.
My friends back in my prime years I may now not recognize
For time leaves it's mark on all of us I've come to realize
I drunk beer with them in the pub and with them played football
And that was many years ago as I can well recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shared Secrets
Shared secrets.
Experimental form.
Today
And tomorrow
Will soon be history.
Years pass
So very fast
Though we can remember vividly.
Some day
Because we did
Something out of the ordinary.
Days out.
Or holidays.
Long cherished memories.
Today
Like any day.
Could be such a day possibly.
Some days
Make no impact.
But others very easily.
Remain
Permanently
Embedded deep in memory.
Known to.
No one but you
And one other possibly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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We Gave Her A Bouquet Of Roses
We gave her a bouquet of roses to place on her baby's grave
The baby girl born alive that the doctors could not save
The birth of new born baby a time of joy and cheer
But if the new born baby die such news none wish to hear.
She has to weep her grief away and shed those painful tears
Or else the hurt will stay with her for years and years and years
To bottle up her sense of loss will only cause more pain
She has to shed her grief in tears or with her 'twill remain.
She carried her child for nine months looked to the birth with joy
But her happiness was snatched from her in the twinkling of an eye
My thoughts go to her husband too his expectations high
But tragedy visited him he watched his baby die.
What can one say at a time like this there's nothing one can say
To ease the burden of the grief that they must feel today
Nine months of expectations in a moment snatched away
But sun as ever waits to shine behind the clouds of gray.
A bouquet of flowers and sympathy card to place on baby's grave
But how can any one expect of them at such time to be brave
They have to let their feelings show and weep their grief away
For if not sorrow will live on and hurt with them will stay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Summer holidays
The greatest time of the year
Summer holidays
Much freedom and a pint of beer
Summer holidays
Just do what you want
There’s no need to pant
Just have some fun with your friends
Summer holidays
You got even time to watch the ants
Summer holidays
Don’t ever dare to think of school
Summer holidays have no rules
Meet friends, have fun or just chill out
Buy milk, go swim or eat an ice upon a roundabout
You understand what they are like?
Summer holidays are the time of your life!
poem by Kevin Deckert
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