Does Your Past Travel With You
Does your past travel with you to where-ever you go
In your thoughts do old friends stop by to say hello
Do you go to the pub for the beer and sing song
With you from the past memories have come along
Do you hear the babble of the clear mountain rill
As it journeys on down from the foot of the hill
On to the great river that flows to the sea
Your past you take with you in your memory
Fond memories of your younger years you do recall
For your white and brown jack russell terrier you throw the tennis ball
Which she fetch and dropp at your feet to throw to her again
A memory a whole lifetime for to retain
Does your past travel with you to where-ever you go
In your thoughts do old friends stop by to say hello?
poem by Francis Duggan
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What The Future Holds For Us
What the future holds for us we are not to know
But our past it goes with us to where-ever we go
Your best years in life to the forever gone
But your past in your memory it is living on
Many friends of your past you may never more see
But they do remain young in your memory
And for as long as the gift of memory you retain
Mental pictures of them with you will remain
But the present is what matter as some are known to say
And only in memory we have yesterday
And tomorrow at dawn the songbirds will sing
But who knows what tomorrow for us will bring
But we will live till we die like the sheep or the cow
And we only can live in the here and the now.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Memories
Today will be a memory
yesterday is a memory drifting away
memories turn into tears,
tearing us apart.
Fear of moving on, afraid of change,
in a minute this will just be a memory
memories are all pain in vain
memories are like dreams, a reflection of the past.
Memories are vision of what it used to be.
my memories are sadness and struggle
what are yours?
are they sadness and struggle?
You are but a memory
that dwindles as each day passes me by.
and as you slowly vanish
I huddle in my room and cry.
A memory that’s all I have
that’s all that’s left of you
nothing but a mere memory
that still lingers, only for a little while longer in my head.
Don’t forget about the past
without memories there is no yesterday.
make every day one to remember a
memory to move on with no regrets
poem by lizzy Sydney
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My Memories
Today will be a memory
yesterday is a memory drifting away
memories turn into tears,
tearing us apart.
Fear of moving on, afraid of change,
in a minute this will just be a memory
memories are all pain in vain
memories are like dreams, a reflection of the past.
Memories are vision of what it used to be.
my memories are sadness and struggle
what are yours?
are they sadness and struggle?
You are but a memory
that dwindles as each day passes me by.
and as you slowly vanish
I huddle in my room and cry.
A memory that’s all I have
that’s all that’s left of you
nothing but a mere memory
that still lingers, only for a little while longer in my head.
Don’t forget about the past
without memories there is no yesterday.
make every day one to remember a
memory to move on with no pain or anymore regrets
poem by Ralph Acosta
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The Rill From The Foot Of The Mountain
The rill from the foot of the mountain that joins the river to the sea
It has babbled on downhill forever by hedgerows in the high
Country
It has witnessed the birth and death of millions of Seasons even before the first Human was born
In the upland wood where it flows through the birds sing at dawn of the morn.
The rill it is truly immortal something that will live forever more
Forever 'twill flow to the river that flows to the great ocean shore
To it there is not a time limit it is as old as father time
It has inspired the long dead poets to glorify it in their rhyme.
The rill from the foot of the mountain towards the river ripples along
And sometimes above it's quiet babble the dippers can be heard in song
The dark brown white breasted waterbirds of Human kind they do seem shy
By the water-way they were born and in the water-way they will die.
The rill from the foot of the mountain downhill to the big river flow
The ancestors of the upland farmers who lived by it centuries ago
In the old Village graveyard it flows by with the long departed they lay
As on for to join the big river it babbles on it's downhill way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Past, Present, Future
i lived in the past for so long
that the present was always unknown.
now i always look ahead at all the possibilities
and there is so much, that i now see.
a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel
and my thoughts being poured through a funnel.
the past is the past, and that's where it will stay
and in the present, we have to find a better way.
for the present will soon be our past
and if we don't do something, it will not last.
we must always look to the future
for it is only twenty four hours away
then it will be our past
and we have so much to do and say.
when i look at life, i truely have to laugh
today is our future and tomorrow it'll be our past.
now that i have you confused as to what i am
trying to say.
i guess i will try' to put it a better way'.
we all tend to procrastinate
always leaving it for tomorrow.
but! what if you don't see tomorrow.
and today you did'nt accomplish that task
how will you be remembered
if the present you left for last.
when we leave this material world
and our souls soar up in the sky
we will still have our memories
and that we can rely.
for when we get up there(if we do)
your soul will have carried all that you did
in this life
and the memories of friends, family
husband, or wife.
now when you look down on all that you had did
and asking yourself the question.
did i use my time, the way it was
meant to be?
or did i procrastinate, that others now speak of me?
we all have to work in order to survive.
but we must stop on occasion to smell the flowers.
and to enjoy all that we was given
otherwise how can you call this living.
(my thoughts: the words and stories were given to me.
so that i could write them down, for al the world to see.)
this is my philosophy.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Good Memories Of What Was
I was not any use at Gaelic Football or Soccer though I played in Millstreet Townpark in the rain
And I played Soccer in Neily Duggan's Inch Field but these things I will never do again
With my young friends for us it was enjoyment but few things in life stay the same
The fire of youth in us was burning but it now is a flickering flame
We never thought about growing older the gift of youth is a great thing
Though of the past we have our memories and till death to them we will cling
The thought that we age with the Seasons does seldom enter the young mind
But the years leave us frailer and older eternal youth not for air breathing kind
But for as long as we have the gift of memory of our prime years good memories we retain
And often in our flights of fancy the past we do visit again
I still recall the joy and laughter as we chased the football up and down
On Summer evenings often wet and windy in the Townpark of old Millstreet Town
The years leave us all looking older and the clock on our lives ticking on
But the good memories of what was bring us comfort of the past to the forever gone.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shadow of My Memory
Gust of stale wind breeze
whispers,
the memory,
the memory,
the memory,
much feeling
but seems without feelings at all,
candles have heart to,
hesitant to part.
much feeling but its
just as if there's none,
I think of the past
but i can't smile,
candles have heart too
it loathes parting.
Today will be a memory,
yesterday was a memory
drifting away, but
count not the time,
rather the moments.
our past days are beautiful
the things we kept
in our memory cache full.
the things we left are so many
fear of moving on,
fear of change,
wails of grief sucked
up excavated nose
soul wailing to the
top of the lungs.
in a minute this will
be just a memory
memories are
all pain in vain
but those are but memories
that dwindles each
day passes by,
as those slowly vanished,
I huddle in my room and cry,
memories are like dreams,
a reflection of the past.
poem by Cyrus Diaz
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Farewell To
Farewell to the young women I used to know
When I was a younger man decades ago
Some of them are ageing grandmothers today
And some of them childless and single did stay.
Farewell to the first feelings of love I knew
Though the one that I loved to another was true
She did not know I loved her 'twas better that way
Since I've always found words like 'I love you' so hard for to say.
Farewell to my childhood friends the girls and the boys
We had fun together and we played with our toys
We grew up too quickly and got to know care
And we found out about life in the big World out there.
Farewell to the Town Park where we played football
An old memory fading that's nice to recall
Still in my flights of fancy the old Town I see
Though life in the old Town goes on without me.
To the old stream that flowed by my old home a tearful farewell
And those old fields that will long outlive my doggerel
And on the leafy hedgerows in the prime of Spring
The songbirds of Nature did whistle and sing.
Farewell to the past since the past is long gone
And without me life in the old Townland goes on
But fond memories of my boyhood years with me remain
And I often go back down memory lane.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Old Claraghatlea When I Was A Young Boy
In old Claraghatlea when I was a young boy
Walks in the old fields I used to enjoy
And Summer evenings out hunting in Pomeroy's bog
With Pudsy our dark brown hairy cattle dog
The boy of the fifties is now looking gray
One might say he has known a far better day
But memories of the past in the memory remain
And in memory the past we re-visit again
Old Pudsy long gone she is in time's decay
In Mother earth's bosom forever she lay
And time ticks away and nothing seems to last
And in memory we only can go to the past
And in old Claraghatlea far north and far away
A boy with his dog is out hunting today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Burning Bridges
Our old love letters,
I burnt them one by one.
I didn’t want them in years to come,
to haunt me with memories of you.
Our car in which we used to travel,
around to see our friends,
I sold so I could get something new,
that didn’t hold the perfume of you.
The house would have to go,
too many memories,
of you lingering there,
and they are too hard to bear.
Just another bridge I’m burning,
to escape the entrapment of the past,
another way of removing to,
any traces of the love I had for you.
I’ve said goodbye to our friends,
before they start asking of you.
I’m moving to a far away place,
and burning bridges of all traces of you
I’m hoping it will be enough,
to keep your memories at bay,
Until the day I find another guide,
who will lovingly at my side stay.
poem by David Harris
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Moving Pictures
The slowly burning logs inspire.
Half forgotten memories.
Moving pictures in the fire.
Recalling scenes from the past with ease.
Other times and other places
Recollections from long ago
Of the friends I used to know.
Where are they now? I cannot say
Our paths diverged and we lost touch.
The glowing coals make my thoughts stray
and I remember far too much.
The things I did or did not do.
As I recall the past anew.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Silent River
The river usually runs in such a great rush,
But, today, it is still, and there is only hush.
I glance over at it, in the darkness, as I pass:
I see the river’s surface is as smooth as glass.
It’s like the river itself is feeling the great grief,
Of losing someone, whose time on earth was brief.
It appears to be grieving for its long time neighbour,
Who, for many years, in the nearby store, did labour.
Just like people, it stands in silence, to show its respect,
And its many thoughts and feelings, it wants to collect.
No more will the river, running through this restful place,
See its neighbour with her eternally happy and smiling face.
From the river, to be heard, there isn’t a single sound:
Night time has fallen, so no ducks or swans are around.
Never before, can I recall the river being so totally still;
It’s as though it has decided to stop of its own free will.
From what I can see, and this may sound just a little bit mad,
The river, just like its neighbour’s family and friends, is sad.
It isn’t in the mood to chatter cheerfully, to dance, or to run;
Now is its time of remembrance: not a time for it to have fun.
Soon, it will continue on its journey, but it will remember,
The loss of this lovely lady, on the tenth day of December.
As it journeys onwards, its surface will shimmer and shake,
And, with it, precious memories of its neighbour, it will take.
(In memory of Debbie Baptiste)
poem by Angela Wybrow
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My Past
I can never let go of my past because my past has marked me
Every time I look down
Every time I look over
There is my past
The notches
The bold the non-mistakable scars
…the scars
My past
Each and every one has a story
Each and every one has a memory
Each and every one has brought tears to my eyes
For no story nor memory are of happiness, triumph, or glory
No, they are of fear, anxiety, self-hatred, paranoia, and loneliness
I can never let go of my past because my past will always be part of me
poem by Scarlet Mo Chroi
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Island of time
As I lay here
in my ocean of thoughts
letting my emotions
flow around me
I wonder how long
will I stay above the water
before I start to sink,
sink in the memories of my past
I think of him
and all that has been
I begin to feel the current
getting stronger
I start to go under
so I hold my breathe
waiting for the thought
to pass
I pass out
and awake on a beach
the only place I'm safe
from my thoughts
The beach is my present
reminding me to live for here
and now
reminding me my past is gone
I stare to the forest before me
I do not know
What is to come
as I travel into the unknown
poem by Kali Drainville
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Its only me
Its Only Me
Its only me
An echo
A whisper
A heartbeat
A memory in your past
Inside
Inside your mind ill linger forever
Waiting there for years to come
All those long years
Just waiting
I may be gone from you in waking life
But my soul will haunt you forever
Its my memory as well
And your soul will haunt me to
Secret memories and thoughts
Hidden in secret places
Ill be here forever
Just waiting
Like a rose
That crumbles in death
But is remembered forever
As my love for you
Now my love is nothing
But
An echo
A whisper
A heartbeat
A memory in your past
Its only me
poem by Naomi Burdett
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It is only fantasy, not true!
Just imagine that earth is the size of a pinhead,
The universe may be the size of the earth.
when The universe is the size of the earth.
that earth may be the size of a pinhead,
The maximum time difference is less than a day,
Wherever we travel on the earth in pain or gay,
When we travel east or west, we either lose or gain,
A few of hours of the past and the future,
when the morning arrives earlier or later,
While the people, their age and their progress are the same,
But we gain or lose only less than a day on this planet of a pinhead.
When we travel in the universe which is the size of the earth,
How many years and decades that we need to go for a round,
When we travel east and west, we lose and gain in years,
Many years of past and the future that exists at the same moment,
So, when the time travelers return, they wouldn't be younger, not lament,
To look for their gone ancestors in the changed land scape,
As the human wherever they go and whatever they do,
They age at same pause gradually, not one age faster,
The other remain younger during the same period of roster.
I am a time traveler to travel faster to reach the future,
or dig the past, I am always the contemporary human to ponder.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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To Me Tou Are A Forbidden Love
When i close my eyes and think,
I remember the dreams that i had,
Against all memories and past,
To me you are a forbidden love.
I remember my dreams that i had,
I wish i could stop the time,
So i can get back in my past,
And fix what i destroyed.
Against all memories and past,
I'm same woman, i'll never change,
Only your love made me understand one thing,
I gave it all i had the best in me.
To me you are forbidden love,
Against all memories and past,
I remember the dreams that i had,
When i close my eyes to think.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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