Winters Sun
Winters pall dims the vestiges of autumn gone,
lost the laughter and the sun, families fled
past the eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun.
Mundanity dulls the keenest edge, (re) casts
playact in imports stead, each actor caught in
winters pall, dims the vestiges of autumn gone.
In heady, early days, blushing glance was enough
to hold, then break, the rhythm of the dreary drum.
Past the eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun,
each generation caricatured, first by writers pen,
then realigned by victors gun; the awful chill of
winters pall dims the vestiges of autumn. Gone,
the comfort in a hug, entwined hands: now undone,
voices held on memories breadth, fade away into the
past. The eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun,
sightless, gaping - cast amongst the great undone, stories
raise them from the depths, before letting go into the
winters pall, dims the vestiges of autumn gone
past the eyes of those past - replaced by barren sun.
poem by Christopher Withers
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Talking Book
I wish I had a talking book
That told me how to act and look
A talking book that contained keys
To past and present memories
A talking book that said your name
So if you were gone, youd still remain
More than a picture on a shelf
In imagination I could touch
A talking, talking book
I wish I had a talking book
Filled with buttons you could push
Containing looks and sights, your touch
Your feel, your breath, your sounds, your sighs
How much Id bluster to ask it why
One must live and one must die
I wish I had a talking book
By my side so I could look
And touch and feel and dream, a look
Much bigger than a talking book
A taste of loving future and past
Is that so much to really ask
In this one moments time and space
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love ever, forever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
(can our love really be replaced)
By a talking book
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Autumn Again
It’s autumn again
Leaves whisper the sound of our past
In loss they pay a descent
To the ground we fall
It’s autumn again
Our song is sung by the wind
Echoes of loss and grief
Through chilled air we wade
It’s autumn again
The waters grow as cold as our hearts
We are alike – crusted in ice
In ourselves we freeze
It’s autumn again
Flowers vanish from our sadness
Our beauty grows weak
Covered in frost we wither
It’s autumn again
The rain falls like our tears
Can’t dry our eyes
From the sky we descend
It’s autumn again
The sun shines then fails like us
Our sight becomes a wintry gray
Lost in darkness we will fade
It’s autumn again
poem by Andrea Rieck
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Now Is Past
_Now_ is past--the happy _now_
When we together roved
Beneath the wildwood's oak-tree bough
And Nature said we loved.
Winter's blast
The _now_ since then has crept between,
And left us both apart.
Winters that withered all the green
Have froze the beating heart.
Now is past.
_Now_ is past since last we met
Beneath the hazel bough;
Before the evening sun was set
Her shadow stretched below.
Autumn's blast
Has stained and blighted every bough;
Wild strawberries like her lips
Have left the mosses green below,
Her bloom's upon the hips.
Now is past.
_Now_ is past, is changed agen,
The woods and fields are painted new.
Wild strawberries which both gathered then,
None know now where they grew.
The skys oercast.
Wood strawberries faded from wood sides,
Green leaves have all turned yellow;
No Adelaide walks the wood rides,
True love has no bed-fellow.
Now is past.
poem by John Clare
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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A Junction Of Fate
My ending begins here,
I never believed I could be this free,
Fled the immediate sorrows of a young graduate,
Still can't find a better explanation,
of what my passed fate could have been.
Talking from an in depth,
Now with a clearer sight of hope,
I'm just wanting to believe, that I'm the luckiest human
What is actually the price behind all this,
I tell you, never forget the beholder of your joy.
My real appreciation, lies on many hands,
This is why I've being stripped of sadness,
Believe it or not, it has all been replaced with a bunch of joy,
Their thoughtfulness, has led me to a place of no return,
A better place of no return to be precise.
Speechless, is still a word that won't express it all,
when I look back at my past, I feel fulfilled,
That my past of past, has been left crawling in the past,
And now I'm proud to say something that I know everybody has not said,
you are a part of my good fate and unlimited joy,
That's why I'm proud to say this all, and finally say a big thank you....
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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Gone by the Wind
Tell me who will wake
Up the sleeping ancestors
For the past had taken
Time, space, and replaced
As a new cell,
Tell me who will make Nile
Back to Victoria
And not to Mediterranean
He will, not, but, envy
Current, presence of grace!
The past is gone
By the wind, Amen.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Time Long Past
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past.
A tone which is now forever fled,
A hope which is now forever past,
A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past.
There were sweet dreams in the night
Of Time long past:
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last--
That Time long past.
There is regret, almost remorse,
For Time long past.
'Tis like a child's belovèd corse
A father watches, till at last
Beauty is like remembrance, cast
From Time long past.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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From the threshold [Din prag]
Like evening star
I fade away
And night around
Will soon expand.
When all the past
Dies in my soul
It is replaced
By desert land...
O, icon dear
From other times,
Right now you seem
A ruined dream...
Come closer, please,
To kiss your hand
And blackish eyes,
Which brightly gleam!
The wing of death
Casts shadows deep
On the bad luck
Of vanquished guys.
Detached from life,
I feel how fall
The heavy lids
On my dead eyes...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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The Wide-eyed Antics Of Salvador Dali
O Salvador!
What world do your eyes see?
Do you see the canvas on your easel?
Or do you see through it?
Teach me O genius!
Where does one learn to open ones eyes so wide
That all that hides from our sight
Is drawn into lawless perception
Past logic
Past knowledge
Past understanding
Where there is nothing but images
And the possibility of a dream
How do we look upon a world that is flat to the eye
And see it to be round?
How do you hide your insanity in your suit
And let your curly mustache be your caste?
Every time I look into your eyes I fall in
Where do they lead - Salvador?
Was it your dead brother who peered out from behind
those great soul windows?
Was it Gala that kept your heart beating
When your eyes went on journeys
Outside your head
And across the invisible path
Where the footprints of the masters could be found?
How can we come to understand that time
Can be undone by the persistence of memory?
poem by C.S. Smith
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Past Carin
Now up and down the siding brown
The great black crows are flyin',
And down below the spur, I know,
Another `milker's' dyin';
The crops have withered from the ground,
The tank's clay bed is glarin',
But from my heart no tear nor sound,
For I have gone past carin' --
Past worryin' or carin',
Past feelin' aught or carin';
But from my heart no tear nor sound,
For I have gone past carin'.
Through Death and Trouble, turn about,
Through hopeless desolation,
Through flood and fever, fire and drought,
And slavery and starvation;
Through childbirth, sickness, hurt, and blight,
And nervousness an' scarin',
Through bein' left alone at night,
I've got to be past carin'.
Past botherin' or carin',
Past feelin' and past carin';
Through city cheats and neighbours' spite,
I've come to be past carin'.
Our first child took, in days like these,
A cruel week in dyin',
All day upon her father's knees,
Or on my poor breast lyin';
The tears we shed -- the prayers we said
Were awful, wild -- despairin'!
I've pulled three through, and buried two
Since then -- and I'm past carin'.
I've grown to be past carin',
Past worryin' and wearin';
I've pulled three through and buried two
Since then, and I'm past carin'.
'Twas ten years first, then came the worst,
All for a dusty clearin',
I thought, I thought my heart would burst
When first my man went shearin';
He's drovin' in the great North-west,
I don't know how he's farin';
For I, the one that loved him best,
Have grown to be past carin'.
I've grown to be past carin'
Past lookin' for or carin';
The girl that waited long ago,
Has lived to be past carin'.
My eyes are dry, I cannot cry,
I've got no heart for breakin',
But where it was in days gone by,
A dull and empty achin'.
My last boy ran away from me,
I know my temper's wearin',
But now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.
Past wearyin' or carin',
Past feelin' and despairin';
And now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Multicultural Melbourne
Melbourne Immigration Museum
I stroll,
Past history,
Past lives,
Past stories.
I see for the first time MY nation’s history,
My nations courage,
My nations suffering,
My eyes glaze over
And realisation creeps up on me.
I see stories of the past and present,
Played out before me,
The lives of Australia’s people,
Australia’s history
poem by Katie Anne
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Pirouetting Autumn
The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Last Dance With Past
Destroyed and alone i walk to you my past
With opened arms i run to you my past
I knock the doors of distances
There behind them painful memories lies
May can i catch the last chance
To hug the memories of the past
And make with them my last dance
For the last time to try
To arouse the misty pity
And the constancy of the past
To revive the inscrutable pain of the past
May for last time i can remove that insensible gauzy veil
That lies there like an insect between and around
the misty pity of the past
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Autumn Post Mortem
Kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
leaves like the chameleonic colours of spectral spring and
time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem
Memories not so self conscious as to requisition mourning
lights always changing and another day's sure to bring
kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
The night then is bright with day's approaching light
sufferance of deep space sprouting telephonic ring
as time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem
And my uncertainty is once again clouded with certainty
clearing the haze of successive summer days and heralding
kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
For in time the peace of patients and their lonely hearts
broken impart curtains scarlet softly spoken diamond sing
as time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem
Conscience Speaks
Sun is bright in the sky,
The old man walks and sighs.
He walks up the lane, stops and looks for a shade
Stops and takes a cold breadth;
My heart shakes, emotions pour through the eyes:
Why is it so?
Stress should I put on heart or brain.
My body shivers, eyes add to the fuel.
He comes to know of my stress.
Future Past or Present is it;
Ambiguity throws a coat.
FUTURE- Negative capability is the answer
Future and past go hand in hand,
Sins of past drowising in my heart,
Bring the fear of Future.
PRESENT- What is now is because of past,
What will come, a product of present.
Present, past and future housed both in heart and brain.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Past
Past is past.
It never comes.
It helps us something to learn.
Past lives may hurt us.
But It never ruins us.
Don't fight the past.
Let it go, always be simple, always be inspired.
There is no point going with the past.
There is the point going with present.
Past determines nothing.
Present determines something.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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