On This Day,5 Years ago
On this day five years ago we slowly watched you pass.
Now we sit here with just your soul and think about the past.
We said this was for the best but I don’t think that could be.
Because on this day five years ago you left us with just love and memory
Now I sit and write this poem for a very special man who left us all five years ago whilst we sat hand in hand.
In Memory of Robert Collins.
By: Dillon Keuthonymos Crawford
poem by Dillon Keuthonymos Crawford
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One Hundred
To all those who have read my poems,
this poem is just for you.
This is my hundredth poem this year
and I feel like celebrating too.
You see for years and years,
I did not want to write anymore,
until I came along here and met all of you.
For some reason I cannot explain,
you took me under your poetic wing.
You made me want to write again,
with your comments by the score.
You brought life back to me,
took my hand,
and guided me from the wilderness,
from which I ran.
You gave me injection,
and my confidence once more flowed.
My pen was put to paper again,
and out the poems came,
one after the other,
but never one the same.
I took a little time out to write a novel too.
All this and more is all thanks to you.
Without that hand of friendship,
which you’ve all shown to me,
I’d still be wandering like a lost soul,
in that wilderness out there.
Therefore, I am taking this opportunity
with this my hundredth poem this year,
to send you a special thanks,
from the bottom of my heart,
to each and every one of you out there.
poem by David Harris
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Billy Of One Hand
His left hand severed just below the elbow
And the nickname for him 'Billy of one hand'
And he still feels quite angry with his father
And why this should be not hard to understand.
It happened when Billy was just four years old
The day his father took him to the zoo
He wandered towards a cage his dad not looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
But Billy will put no blame on the tiger
A tiger just wild animal he say
And for what happened to me I must blame my father
I see my hand and hate him every day.
I watched him as a young boy beat my mother
'Thanks be to god from us he went away'
I can't remember any good about him
And only darkest memories of him stay.
He left my mum to live with his new lover
To cheat and domineer to him seemed fair
Ten years or maybe more since I've last seen him
And where he live I do not know or care.
'Billy of one hand' his given nickname
And the worst day of his life was at the zoo
He strayed off whilst his father wasn't looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lost
Walked home tonight through the streets
Where we all came of age
Buildings still the same but the faces
Now seem so strange
Though its been so many years
Since I saw your face
I still think about you all the time
But you left no trace
Where are you now?
Do you have somebody to love you?
Where are you now?
Could it be that you're thinking about me too
I'd give anything to see you again
I'd give anything to see you again
No-one else
Could come close
To your Memory
I'd give anything to see you again
Do you still believe in the Faith
That burned inside of us
Is your soul like a stone like our friends
Eroded to dust
Though it's been so many years
Since I heard your voice
One question still remains
Did you make the choice?
This town has watched us rise and fall
To famine and to fame
Won't gain the World to lose my soul
Could you still say the same?
song performed by by Quench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Old Friends
Through the years that I have wandered,
I have left a lot behind.
I have left all those old friends of mine.
Some have passed on to heaven,
some still remain who I see occasionally,
but for those who have gone
and I will never see anymore
this poem is just for them.
Their names shine across my memory
for now and always.
I can only hope they are looking down
as I write telling the world of their friendship
that I had as I grew through my life.
How they helped me overcome
at times torment and strife,
and encouraged me to better life
when I needed it the most.
When the world seemed unfair,
for me they were there.
For some I never had a chance
to say a final goodbye.
They were here and then gone
in the wink of an eye,
but the legacy of their friendship
still remains in my heart and memory,
for so I live, they will never be forgotten by me.
1 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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There Are Those Who Wait Years To Write A Poem
THERE ARE THOSE WHO WAIT YEARS TO WRITE A POEM
There are those who wait years to write a poem
The fruit slowly ripens inside and then as with Rilke
It suddenly falls -
There are those who write a few lines
And come back time after time
And find the poem after many efforts-
There are those who cannot wait to write a poem
And once conscious of it must write it down as fast as possible
Before it is lost-
And there are those who only in the present writing
Find the poem -
The page suffers many methods and modes
But what truly makes a poem worthy
Is another question.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Old Pair There
The old pair there they seem so very happy and they are two who've never sought renown
Raised on the same street they were childhood sweethearts and they raised their children here in their Hometown
Still so much in love and they in their late sixties they walk in the Town Parkland hand in hand
And others unhappy in their third or fourth marriage us human beings are hard to understand.
How come some can fall in love in their teen years and stay in love for the rest of their life
After all these years she's in love with her husband and after all these years he's in love with his wife
Whilst others go through many wives or husbands and their marriage always seems to end in tears
But they go searching for another partner they've fallen in and out of love for years
And could it be that they've never found their soul mate and unhappiness in love is all they find
They fall in and out of love so very quickly but then again some do say love is blind
But some will stay in love till death will take one and the living one for the dead one will grieve
Suppose they who stay in love for their whole lifetime in each others worth must firmly believe.
They've been in love since they were in their teen years and arm in arm they walk along the street
They are so in love after fifty years of marriage as if last week for the first time they did meet
Whilst others are in their fourth or fifth marriage but their love out of love's feeling seems to run
And then they go off in search of another perhaps it's in the chase they find their fun.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Remember The Fallen
Bravery.....
They held in the grasp of death's clutches.
All they did ask for...
A memory of the fallen
Be it on a tundra, braving the winds of war,
Be it on the home front, fear for their loved, clinging tight
All they did wish
A memory of the fallen
Fighting for the memories, of their worlds untouched
Disaster and fright mirrored on innocent faces
All they whisper...
A memory of the fallen
As the years flow by
The rivers of tears, years dry
All they sing, softly,
A memory of the fallen
REMEMBER, the pleas of rememberance, years past
As they fall upon deaf ears
Yet their reminder must live on, as they may not
REMEMBER the fallen, as they plead no more
poem by Joelle Ramee
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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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Strolling On The Memory Lane
oh, i went to memory lane
too,
i've seen much already.
i come back to what i am
and what i have become,
i hold on to my vision,
my dreams
i write about hope, and
imagine
my future, another 20 years,
another 30 years more,
i pray,
the memory lane is black and white
and then
it faded like a denim
a murky river where i lift my feet
up above the water
and as i move towards the shore,
i decided, i thought,
the memory lane serves me
no more
it was short, and it will not be
repeated
i wake up, and then i forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Loyalty
amidst the loneliness
that keeps us in this old house
this is what we can do: you sing the videoke
i face the monitor, and i write a poem about us,
25 years on monotony like the sound of the waves of the sea
overnight a boat that takes us to another island
25 years of tolerance about our own idiosyncrasies
another twenty-five years
and another twenty-five years
this is our pledge of allegiance to ourselves
husband and wife
alone, in an old house, left by those behind us
for bitter or for worse
er, for better or for good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem -Written On The Small Pad
THE POEM / WRITTEN ON THE SMALL PAD
The poem/
Written on the small pad
In the almond tree park
Intersection Disraeli- Alkalai
The poem of the past days
The poem of the light – rain beginning,
Another Jerusalem poem-
Four- thousand years of Jerusalem poems
I from Troy, New York
Thirty- five years in Israel
Nearly sixty- eight years of age
Write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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One Thing Leads To Another
How many times have we
thought of one thing that led us to another
within our memory store.
We think of one thing
and our memory links us to another
that may have happened years before.
We sit for a few minutes
as our memory takes us on a trip
through the corridors
of our childhood many years before.
We remember moments
that delighted us at the time
before growing up
took those pleasures away.
Each memory hold a precious moment
we will never see again
except in our memories
when they will take us
down that road again.
27 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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Recollections
I.
Years upon years, as a course of clouds that thicken
Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers,
Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requicken
Years upon years.
Surely the thought in a man's heart hopes or fears
Now that forgetfulness needs must here have stricken
Anguish, and sweetened the sealed-up springs of tears.
Ah, but the strength of regrets that strain and sicken,
Yearning for love that the veil of death endears,
Slackens not wing for the wings of years that quicken -
Years upon years.
II.
Years upon years, and the flame of love's high altar
Trembles and sinks, and the sense of listening ears
Heeds not the sound that it heard of love's blithe psalter
Years upon years.
Only the sense of a heart that hearkens hears,
Louder than dreams that assail and doubts that palter,
Sorrow that slept and that wakes ere sundawn peers.
Wakes, that the heart may behold, and yet not falter,
Faces of children as stars unknown of, spheres
Seen but of love, that endures though all things alter,
Years upon years.
III.
Years upon years, as a watch by night that passes,
Pass, and the light of their eyes is fire that sears
Slowly the hopes of the fruit that life amasses
Years upon years.
Pale as the glimmer of stars on moorland meres
Lighten the shadows reverberate from the glasses
Held in their hands as they pass among their peers.
Lights that are shadows, as ghosts on graveyard grasses,
Moving on paths that the moon of memory cheers,
Shew but as mists over cloudy mountain passes
Years upon years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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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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As Years Go By
Tell me how the years go by
Its been a long long time
Tell me how your plans fell through
And how you changed your mind
Tell me bout the hearts you broke
How many have you known
Tell me how the years went by
And left you all alone
Tell me dear
I want to hear
bout the lost and wasted years
Tell me when now tell me why
Tell me how the years go by
Tell me how the years go by
Like borrowed dancing shoes
That gather dust beneath your ned
Mislaid and seldom used
Like a heart that haunts a phone booth
On a corner far from home
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Close your eyes
Tell me what do you see
Its an imperfect world
Still we dream perfect dreams
Its no big surprise when were down on our knees
Truth isnt always what we will believe.
Tell me how the years go by
In seasons at your door
And how the things you left me for
Dont matter anymore
Tell me how the more we learn
The more we leave unknown
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Alone
Close your eyes (x3)
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Memory
That Memory
I want that memory
The one where I’m jumping
On the trampoline
With my grandkids
Holding their hand
Crossing the street
Teaching them the simple things in life
Like how to meet and greet the world
The people in it
I want that memory
Don’t you?
Of the first time they see a butterfly
Or see a tear dropp fall from my eye
It seems all of a sudden I know
The innocence
The confidence
of youth is strong
They believe for a few years
Adults are all wrong
Now it seems with time
We’ve all written our own song
Now I have that memory
Don’t you?
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Yesterday Now Just A Memory
Now these days gone by
I see you only in my dream
you're always there somewhere
but never here next to me
my head held low
I had to let you go
I knew it had to be
now you must set me free
Like yesterday now just a memory
torn and frayed
love was lost as it would seem
to this scene we already played
as I walk on alone
through this bitter December cold
with nothing left to hold
there's nothing left here to try
with yesterday now just a memory
promises we made are forever gone
these tears turned to a heart of stone
all these years on this highway I roam
So many roads I traveled down
gone town to town
but with yesterday now just a memory
none never lead me back home
Spiritwind-2009
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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