Daughter, Forgive
Her days were
Whole
On Mexican tile and
Daddy’s slippers
Ahead a full life
Days without maps
Years without provenance
Years and debris
Memory is debris
Clutter and fantasy
In black and white
In crackled sepia
Never in life color
The tartar of bad memory
Calcifies and becomes plaque
Becomes part of the finished work
A life nonetheless
poem by Guillermo Veloso
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Related quotes
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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Fingers & Thumbs
Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone
A hint of the scent then it's gone
Look at the state of you, you're all fingers & thumbs
So who's your latest flame
Drivin' em wild in the fast lane
Won't say i told you so, but the boy has no shame
Once when my hands were full
We were double or quits then some
Nothin' at all to show for a love so precious
Gone & blown it all, how can you say
"it doesn't matter much to me?"
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in love's debris
Gone & blow it all & then you say
"this can't be happening to me"
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in love's debris
Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone
The thrill of the chase then it's gone
Only the hurt to prove that it ever went on
And life is a wonderful thing
When you're humming the words to a love song
Do what you wanna do be who you want to be
When i'm in your arms i'm strong
There's nowhere i'd rather be
We shine for liberty, life & the pursuit of pleasure
Gone & blown it all, how can you say
"it doesn't matter much to me?"
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in love's debris
Gone & blown it all & then you say
"this isn't happening to me"
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in love's debris
And how the days have flown too few & fast
They said it wasn't meant to last
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in love's debris
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Days
- Album: Reality
- Lyrics and music by David Bowie
Hold me tight
Keep me cool
Going mad
Don't know what to do
Do I need a friend?
Well I need one now
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
All I've done
I've done for me
All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And theres little left of me
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
With redeyed pain I'm knocking on your door again
My crazy brain in tangles pleading for your gentle voice
Those storms keep pounding through my faded heart
I'll play your sooth my sorry soul
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fingers Thumbs
Dont know what youve got til its gone
A hint of the scent then its gone
Look at the state of you, youre all fingers & thumbs
So whos your latest flame
Drivin em wild in the fast lane
Wont say I told you so, but the boy has no shame
Once when my hands were full
We were double or quits then some
Nothin at all to show for a love so precious
Gone & blown it all, how can you say
It doesnt matter much to me?
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in loves debris
Gone & blow it all & then you say
This cant be happening to me
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in loves debris
Dont know what youve got til its gone
The thrill of the chase then its gone
Only the hurt to prove that it ever went on
And life is a wonderful thing
When youre humming the words to a love song
Do what you wanna do be who you want to be
When Im in your arms Im strong
Theres nowhere Id rather be
We shine for liberty, life & the pursuit of pleasure
Gone & blown it all, how can you say
It doesnt matter much to me?
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in loves debris
Gone & blown it all & then you say
This isnt happening to me
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in loves debris
And how the days have flown too few & fast
They said it wasnt meant to last
A dumb mistake too much to pay
A shattered heart in loves debris
song performed by by Erasure
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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Death Of A Teacher
Thirteen years older
but hardly wiser
I return to my past
to find you
six months dead.
Still alive in this head
is memory of you
and our infamous
three days and nights
sustaining on
sunflowerseeds
and moonshine.
as we pissed the
hours & days
away
till I gave up
and went home
alone
to the biggest
hangovers ever.
You died
an alcoholic at
fourtyfive, and I
wonder at the
caurse of your
excessive
indifferent
recklessness.
Did someone
break your heart,
or did you just
loose faith in life
or yourself?
We toasted to
Night & Day
Black & White
Life & Death
Us & Them
This ones to
You.
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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She Needs Years To Make A Poem
i am not surprised with what she just said
to make a poem of her life
she needs years and years
perhaps a hundred years
if need be to make the best poem
of her life
her words are days and days
her stanzas her dwelling place
her commas and punctuations
her naps and long hours of sleep
her poem is her life
she lives inside it
she breathes every word every letter
and when she reads it when it is finished
she speaks her last, hounding silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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De M. Antonio
NOW Antoninus, in a smiling age,
Counts of his life the fifteenth finished stage.
The rounded days and the safe years he sees,
Nor fears death's water mounting round his knees.
To him remembering not one day is sad,
Not one but that its memory makes him glad.
So good men lengthen life; and to recall
The past is to have twice enjoyed it all.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Golden Days
There are days in our life
we often refer to as our golden days.
Days that will live forever in our memory,
days when our life felt so comfortable
and we had that warm feeling inside.
Times we wished could last forever
and everyday would be like them.
Sadly, all too soon they are placed into our memory.
Sometimes we get the chance to relive them
for a brief spell now and then
whenever we stop and reminisce
with an old friend.
Then for the briefest of moments,
we are transported back then,
the time of our golden days again.
2 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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White And Black
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever showed him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life was a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Black And White
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever shown him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life became a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Red
There are three colores,
Each a meaning,
in its own,
a little more important,
Than the rest.
White is calm, white is blank,
white is pure and white is clean,
white is the color of doves,
white is the color of here and there,
white is pure.
Black is dark, black is full,
Black is absent and black is stained,
Black is the color of night,
Black is the color of life and death,
Black is dark.
There is one other to say,
The one that flows within,
This color is not white,
but it is pure,
this color is not black,
But it is dark,
This color is all,
It is calm, it is blank,
It is dark, it is full,
both pure and stained,
clean and absent,
it is life it is death,
it is here and it is there,
this is the color,
of everything,
It is red.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Debris Road
She nails down moon beams
And talks in double time
Stumbling down to wherever she goes
I live in the meantime
And I get frustrated
So I put my wager on Debris Road
It keeps me running down Debris Road
I'm not scared but it's somewhere I cling to
All the places I (still) wanna go
They won't cast a shadow on my Debris Road
I get frustrated looking for moonbeams
They always fall where I never go
'Cause I like the daylight and I like a good life
Running so fast down Debris Road
(Repeat Chorus)
Someone got moonfaced and someone gets tearful
Talking so much that they really don't know
Sitting up all night singing songs 'till daylight
Striking a match with the devil below
(Repeat Chorus)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene from Marchin' Already
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Days of Yesteryear
We often live surveying the past
as a summer season comes around,
and selecting the days of living freely
in our memory will be found.
We scrutinize the events of other Summers
experiencing great pleasure and delight
that once we knew when we were just
youngsters when life seemed to be all right.
Through the fading days of yesteryear
we filled our life with many dreams.
From childhood days to adulthood days
it was just a natural step it seems.
We miss the thrills that once was ours
the days we felt were always free.
We live it over each Summer time
and always remains a pleasant memory.
Too swiftly is the flight of time,
Though plentiful be the exuberant ways
that lead us down memory lane
to the scenes of other Summer days.
Though another Summer season shall end,
One wish for all of you we hold
May Summer always bring an abundance
of joy and memories a hundred fold.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Black+White=My Life
Black-
The color of my soul
White-
The color of my spirit
Together Black and White combined
It all equals my life
The 2 only colors
That are not really colors at all
The story of my life
I am alone
I die slowly and painfully
Not a care in the world
Where I would end up
If only I would survive...
Black-
The color of my Heart
White-
The color of my Hopes and Dreams
Together again Black and White reunite as one
As you can tell
The 2 only colors of my life are Black and White
As if you care
You rather see me suffer in vain
You keep heaeing me say I am alone
Well now you know its true
poem by Makayla Straight
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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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In The Making Of 'memory
dear friends,
how's your life?
it's been a while since I heard you laughed,
I, sometimes, dream of us so clearly,
in this making of 'memory'
our past days surely are beautiful,
the things keep our memory books so full.
the things we left unchanged are so many,
in this making of 'memory'
dear friends,
where have you been?
our day, our time,
do you still have that memory?
we live our lives now, differently.
we are, but for the making of another 'memory'
poem by Kite Remedy
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Honor To Rememeber
Not a day might have been passed
From your memory to be glanced
Such a happy and long union
With a long time wife as companion
I congratulate it in earnest
As it has remained very best
Coming days must be fruitful
As it has been very much successful
Life as such is beautiful
We have everything in plentiful
Only it should be spent with happiness
All the time it must be seen on the face
Days and years have turned into decades
But memory remains fresh and never fades
You are moved with the happy moments
As life was always challenging with movements
When you sit on the bench alone
You feel happy and not lone
It is nice to feel about past life
When everything had been quiet from wife
So rejoice at long and comfortable inning
You have scored all the goals as winning
Nothing remains now to be seen as failure
Life was happy at all the times for very much sure
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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God Has Given Me/So Many Days
GOD HAS GIVEN ME/ SO MANY DAYS
BIRTHDAY POEM AT SIXTY- SEVEN AND ONE- HALF YEARS OF AGE
G-d has given me
So many days
Like this
So many days of blessing
So many days
Of cold autumn rain
Of fresh wind
And fading falling leaves
Whose color still says Beauty from them.
God has given me so so much
In this life
Thank G-d for this world
And that I am still alive in it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Texas Lullaby
Tom johnston
Sittin by myself in the summertime, when the heat is burnin down
Watchin the golden crops in the field just growin without a sound
I was a boy raised in the country and its still a part of me
And you see no matter where I go its a beautiful memory
Rise with sun at the break of day, lookin out my window
Its the same as yesterday
Sittin under an old oak tree, pickin my guitar in the shade
That old tree spreadin over my head is the closest friend I made
Just me and some lonely wooden music, floatin through air
The grass is rustlin and the birds are singin and my heart dont have a care
Still another day finds me in the fields, sweat is soakin up my ragged clothes
But Id rather work than steal
Watchin the sun settle down over open texas land, looking at the cattle and the horses runnin wild as they can
Life was different in the old days, you just get a days work done
When you were finished workin in the fields, there was chores at home to be done
I was always hearin music, always wanna play me some
As a full-time friend or the way to ease the end of a woman that swayed me some
Hearin those tunes always had a way of soothin out my soul
When times got hard and work got slow it was music that kept me whole
Sun beatin down through the trees, gets so hot bring a workin man to his knees
Part of my heart, part of my soul, part of a melody
Hands are clappin and people swayin in simple harmony
Life was different in the old days, you just get a days work done
When you finished workin in the fields there was chores at home to be done
Late in the evenin on the front porch when the sun is settin in the west
Me and the boys pass around the bottle and sing what we like best
Sing about our wives, sing about our children, singin out the delta blues
Were simple folks and we like it that way, got nothin left to lose
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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