Love Poems About Nostalgia or Nostalgia Love Poems

Nostalgia love poems and/or love poems about Nostalgia. Read, share, and enjoy these Nostalgia love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Rachel Kovacs |
Categories: caregiving, childhood, daughter, growing up, life, mother, mother daughter, nostalgia, women, me, home, cry, home, love, me,

Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless, 
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
cautiously, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

But 
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for himYou gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "


Poem Details | by Lynn Marie |
Categories: angst, death, introspection, loss, lost love, love, nostalgia, passion, magic,

winter's afterglow

stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains,
delicate pure white flakes danced;
swirling, twirling, rhythmically.

she stood, nose pressed tightly
against the window pane; gazing in awe
at the magic the snowflakes created;
as tears spill from her emerald green eyes.

the cabin is warm, radiating a comforting glow
a fresh pine scent lightly sweetens the air;
she fights the memories, as she begins to shake.

fingers entwined, she tries desperately to hang on
be present in the moment;
"stop, stop, stop" she says, stomping her feet;
she falls to her knees; quivering

she holds tightly her arms and begins to rock,
feeling his presence in his favourite black sweater;
she cannot bring herself to take off.

giggling sounds permeate her thoughts
cocooned in his aura, his essence, his scent;
she feels his lips kiss the nape of her neck,
his strong hands caressing her hair.

she rocks and rocks, time ceases to stop,
as she falls deep into a rich
moulton pool; his smouldering brown eyes.

her lips part; barely into a smile at
his joy when he surprised her with the cabin; 
their oasis away from home.

she wipes away a tear, beams from within
as she recalls the snowball fight, he lost, she won.
he scooped her up, carried her with glee,
over the thresh hold of their cabin; 
their oasis; their heart's retreat.

a decadent white rug bought just for her
lay invitingly in front of the fire,
fiery orange embers crackled and glowed.
he gently laid her down; "my beauty" he said.

they drank champagne, drunk in each other,
wrapped up in his care, she felt peace.
as they lay basking in winter's afterglow,
he whispered "this is my time, i must go".

startled, she sat up, staring deep in his soul,
as snowflakes twirled and danced, 
fresh pine lightly sweetened the air;
he breathed one final breath; then he let go.

her screams were not audible, her body convulsed
as she lay on his chest; her heart; her home.
she cursed the night and winter's afterglow
sobbing "not him, not him, please take me too".

she fights to bring herself back
to the here and the now,
as embers slowly dim, she wobbily stands
clutching tenderly his urn, she must set him free.

the stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains
she opens the window, where dreams breathed of life;

with tears cascading
she releases her love; her life;

to become one 
with the magic of;
winter's afterglow.


Poem Details | by Catman Cohen |
Categories: angst, death, dedication, depression, funeral, love, mother, nostalgia, sad, song-words, song, write, old, day, me, old, song, write,

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Poem Details | by Maurice Yvonne |
Categories: introspection, love, nature, nostalgia, relationship, world,

I Think Of You - At The Edge - 3


A reflection of the coloured pencil drawn sky
skates on the glass smooth surface below it.
While a rebellious group of shades take their positions 
on a glorious stage to express themselves artistically and
I...

i think of you

Wisps of clouds shaped like a palm leaf
fan the winds that stoke the fire
of a randomly sketched sunset.
I...

i think of you

The cool of an ocean breeze 
travels the shadows of this low lit evening.
Caresses my skin like the essence of romance.
Enthralled by the allure of a candle lit sky,
I...

i think of you...

Our French Bakery early mornings.
Café au lait and croissants.
Our freesia soaked baths.
Your mink soft body.
Its milk and honey scent.

As I fall off 
the edge of the world,
I...

i think of you.




March 19 2015
Armand





Poem Details | by Connie Marcum Wong |
Categories: autumn, beach, husband, love, nostalgia,

Loving Years

Dark honey tanned skin glistens
    From the moisture of humidity.
The ladies flirt shamelessly with 
    You, but your eyes gaze upon me.

Your stature looms at six foot three.
    Your swimmer's shoulders impress.
In our island sea we swim leisurely,
    Traces of salt remain as you dress.

White sandy beaches, ever your haven.
    We sip Riesling as the stars appear.
Nestled in your arms,  time takes flight.
    I feel so safe when you are near.

Your strength amply hides a tender heart.
    The depth of your voice all admire.
When we first met I became enamored,
    Feelings that quickly turned to desire.

We have shared so much over the years.
    More happiness than dark sorrows.
Family treasures that brightly shine,
      Reigning with love into our tomorrows.

In the autumn of our lives I feel the chill
    Of winter's inevitable harsh advance,
Yet days of youth remain in our hearts,
    Memories held, that time shall enhance.


Poem of the Day October 27, 2017

Late October Standard Contest-Third Place
Sponsor Brian Strand      


Poem Details | by Ernesto P. Santiago |
Categories: life, love, nostalgia, sad, seasons, time,

Spring Bud

                                
                                 
                                  
                                 
                                
                                 My 
                               breath
                          shivers under  
                       a rug of loneliness,
                    a sleepy heart huddles
                   against such memories 
                 of togetherness and not of 
               goodbyes, hating to disperse 
               the fiery rhymes of your lips, 
                as well as the warmth of its 
                 sweat...tastes like red wine, 
                   then it beats...and beats
                     gently, as it envisions
                          you, in an early
                                misty
                                   s
                                  p
                                r
                               i
                              n
                            g






Poem Details | by Robert Lindley |
Categories: appreciation, art, beautiful, love, nostalgia, passion, romance,

Her Grace, Soft As The Silence Of Morn's Falling Dew

Her Grace, Soft As The Silence Of Morn's Falling Dew
 
Her romantic letters, birth as heart pure and true 
supported deep vows we both swore to be held to.
Her grace, soft as the silence of morn's falling dew
with vows to keep hot passion of love that is new.
Spring had brought this loving angel truly divine
her beauty and purity no words could define.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

Nature spoke to her and she in turn gave away
nuggets of its splendors, rich truths none can betray.
As Heaven and Sky blessed her every foot fall
she never said, uttered a word needing recall.
Her time on earth, gifted only goodness and light
romancing her first love and precious was her sight.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

I read her yearning poetry each heartfelt verse
and in her rapture was my being’s full immerse.
Word-whispers from the page caressed me wispy thrill
reminding me of days sweet gilt of daffodil
and petals pink neath dream girl skies so soft, in sooth
enchanting was the tender season of her youth.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

In quiet hush before sunrise our love was lush
until aurora banished night in her gold rush
of dawning tipsy in wine-stained heavens shinin’
desires spilled our lusty reds across horizon -
a blaze of colors branding love’s intensity, 
time and space sparked by fired hearts’ electricity.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

Enlightened spirit from defeat of sorrow’s foe,
her gift, in written verse of love, to set aglow
a life of beauty echoing the words of love
now distant in the skies with kindness up above
when golden strings of sacred lust remain in thrills
of woven love, entangled in a braid of frills.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

Her fragile throne of virtues goodness cast in gold
beyond eternal love, angelic charms behold
through mortal death returned to God’s celestial care
to guide from heavens, words of wisdom in her prayer
endowment of the past as lover’s hearts enlace
with charms beyond life, she remains my saving grace.

Spirited, she sang - forever united hearts.
Her soft kiss and moans, treasures found on no star charts.

Robert JLindley, Susan Ashley and Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - unified in one poetic and indistinguishable voice.)
October 2, 2018

Note- It is my great honor and deep pleasure to once again help compose and present this our heartfelt and romantic presentation of life, love and beautiful 
song and dance when in love with a goddess that stirs the smitten soul to shine and give thanks for its dear and sweet blessing.
Susan and Teppo, tho' it has taken a month to get this to completion, it has been a great joy to write and also discuss poetry with two such amazingly talented poetsI am truly and doubly blessed to have two such great friends and fantastic writing partners..


Poem Details | by Lynn Marie |
Categories: beautiful, devotion, happiness, inspiration, life, love, nostalgia, passion, spiritual, wedding,

Love Is

Love is a rainbow mirrored in the sky
Its free, its beautiful and tells no lies

A gleaming reflection
Upon the still of a pond
The dewy mist on a freshly cut lawn

Love is a sanctuary for our innermost fears
A tiny capsule to hold all of our tears

A symbol of beauty, rare to be found
Its strength and convictions
Knows no bounds

Love is the touch of our first newborn
So soft, so delicate, so easy to adore

An unconditional consenting of souls
An awareness, a spirit, unique to its own

Love soothes and heals though cannot be bought
An eternal commitment so widely sought

Love is a truth and blossoms for few
A necessity of life, a uniting of hearts
A palette so stunning, so beautiful and new

Love is how I feel for you.


Poem Details | by Charles Fuller |
Categories: loss, lost love, nostalgia, sad, sorry, beautiful, rose, beautiful, love, rose, i love you,

A Rose In The Heather.

So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,

So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,

Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,

Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of 
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing, 
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,     
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.


Poem Details | by Anna-Marie Docherty |
Categories: confusion, devotion, life, lost love, mystery, nostalgia, passion, uplifting, me,

Umbrella

There she stands 
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender 
Precariously she balances.

I reach out for her
Draw her to me 
My hand skims her body 
Slowly reaching her skirt.

Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.

Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.

Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.

Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.

Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.


Poem Details | by Rickie Elpusan |
Categories: loss, love, nostalgia, sad, time,

carved on a willow

carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach


Poem Details | by Jennifer Brooks |
Categories: angst, introspection, loss, lost love, love, nostalgia, passion, me,

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicleI thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket denI would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral 

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to youIt is an eager
ColorShe responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets




Poem Details | by Lynn Marie |
Categories: happiness, inspirational, love, me, nature, nostalgia, people, places, uplifting, yellow,

our colour of yellow

The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.

The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels  busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.

Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.

We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.

The roof  we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.

With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.

We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.

Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.

The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.

As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.

It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.


Poem Details | by Connie Marcum Wong |
Categories: first love, moon, nostalgia,

Tonight

Tonight while watching candles glow
I hear faint sounds of cricket's tune
Where near the Mississippi's flow
Reflects the dawning of the moon.

My mind is wrapped in reverie
Of summer nights I shared with you.
Of lazy evening's cool iced tea
Those peaceful nights when love was new.

Do you remember when we met?
Crystal raindrops began to fall.
You sheltered me, I can't forget.
'Twas near the ivy covered wall.

But now the bloom of love is gone
And you have moved so far away.
You broke my heart, then you moved on
One day a love will make you pay.

Yet when I dream, I dream of you
And wish that I could rewind time.
When we were young and love was new
And summer nights were so sublime.

Tonight while watching candles glow
I hear faint sounds of cricket's tune
Where near the Mississippi's flow
Reflects the dawning of the moon.

4-26-17











Poem Details | by Lynn Marie |
Categories: emotions, feelings, heart, lost love, love, nostalgia, passion,

one brief moment

In one brief moment
you saw me as I am
without a word spoken
palm open for my hand.

Nary a harp string plucked
silence graced the air
silhouettes became one
my heart I laid bare.

Candle wicks were unlit
full moon a distant past
my emerald eyes glowed
your love echoing back.

Fire  our skin to skin heat
scent unique unto us
not a flower in bloom
our souls we gave in trust.

In one brief moment
you saw me as I am
the memory of each breath
my bliss I'll always have.











03-28-2017


Poem Details | by Gregory R Barden |
Categories: adventure, friendship, longing, love, memory, nostalgia, teenage,

Return

Full moon.or nearly..
          I sit on the pier as it groans with swells,
               Dangling my nostalgic heart in the freezing Atlantic,
     Forty-plus years gaze back at me, frowning.

          (Is it my heart that speaks my name?)

Then - my girlfriend and best friend, also a girl,
          Three mad musketeers on a runaway train of endorphins,
               Lost in a chaotic swirl of confused emotional surges..
     Freedom, hormones, a vanthe warm summer evenings.

          (Is it my heart that fans the flame?)

I'd sneak in the sliding glass doors at six every morning,
          Sleep a couple of hours, work in the family store from ten-to-six,
               Drive the forty-five minutes to pick up the girls,
     Then off.the islands, the beaches, the city, the lake..

          (Is it my heart that seeks to blame?)

Craziness and music and all things that teenage kids shouldn't do -
          Repeat the process the entire summer.yeah, entire..
               How did we survive? How did we live on just three hours sleep?
     Why is my soul the only one drowned in this bay?

          (Is it my heart that feels the same?)

Why is mine the only forlorn spirit that wanders back, sullen?
          The god on a cloud tossing pixie dust -
               Watching it sink to the cold depths..
     With those damned, hopelessly hopeful dreams.


Poem Details | by Kim Merryman |
Categories: love, nostalgia, son, boy,

Missing My Little Boys

My babies have all gone,
They've grown and left the nest,
Spreading out their wings to fly,
Upon life's thrilling quest.

The years flew by so quickly.
Babies turned into little boys.
Little boys grew into manhood,
Putting away their childish toys.

I miss those little boy faces,
With their mischievous, winsome smiles.
I miss their childish chatter,
And their creative little boy wiles.

Why didn't I pay more attention?
Why didn't I play with them more?
Why didn't I realize how fleeting time was?
But I didn't and it makes my heart sore.

I miss the little boys that my sons were,
But I'm proud of the men they've become.
They'll always be my little boys,
And I will always love them.

Kim Merryman    3/10/12
Entered in SKAT's "Greatly Missed" contest


Poem Details | by KP Nunez |
Categories: innocence, love, nostalgia,

When Love Was Innocent

Sing for me the sweetest song of love when life was still so young. Those tender times and days devoid of cares and wants troubling the old, when smiles and laughter ruled the day, when worries passed and did not stay. Strum so softly your guitar just like the nights along the shore when music meant the world to us and dreams were spun with so much fun. With nary a thought to hindrances, and silence in between did not mean sadness. Sketch the image once again of all our hopes and aspirations. Paintbrush, our imaginations that fueled all our conversations. Let the canvas capture the moment when each one’s triumph was heaven sent. With words of wonder I will write of every look and all the sighs, of every throbbing thud within our hearts that sometimes drown the din. Still, we aimed our sight so high a desire defined by what’s ideal... When life was young, and love was innocent.
16 May 2015 Kim Patrice Nunez When Love Was Innocent Contest


Poem Details | by Tony Bush |
Categories: life, love, nostalgia, passion, people, timeme, me,

Cobalt Summer

Down there, on the shell-coarse beach in a furnace of sand The sea writhed and almost boiled at the shore, Barefoot we walked, with her hand in my hand No girl had ever driven me more. She dry-licked her cherry lips and saltily smiled, Solar flares bursting there in my chest, The way she moved always drove me wild, My eyes entranced by her shape in that dress. The sun stamped in the sky like a chromium plate, Dripped the colours of butter and steel, And she stood there the most, the coolest hot date, So radiant and still and surreal. When she threw back her head as she lay on the grass Liquid eyes burning silver and green, With the parting of lips she gave me a free pass And the world dissolved to aquamarine.


Poem Details | by arthur vaso |
Categories: art, beautiful, lost love, love, memory, nostalgia, romantic,

The Village of Hardine

The Village of Hardine

The Village of the Windmill

I may do things the old way
Milling grain with windmill dreams
Slowly, that's how we caress our desires
While the windmill turns
My ears listen to the birds that sing
My village is quiet now
Love letters left here long ago
So I mill my grain, as wildflowers grow
Softly I dance inside my head
Wishing my lover, she was not dead

Habibte, my memories are for only you
I sell my grain, and pay my dues
Within my heart, is only, only you
Droughts and war, habibte our love stronger still
Holding you, now a silly illusion
Back then so soft and so true
Our love
	Torn from our grasp


Dream of me habibte
I know you are high above
Dream of me
Soon I will hold your angel wings
No wars or evils shall keep us apart
I mill my grain on this dreary day
Knowing soon, we shall both fly up and away

Love has escaped us here on earth
The seventh day I sit by your grave
I sing you songs as you did to me
Oh habibte, let death bring me to thee
I sigh each time at your vision of splendor

Let Kassab make us this miracle
Love has patience, habibte
Wait for me
As I wait for you
Kisses forever, boukra


Poem Details | by Danielle Wise Baxter |
Categories: adventure, life, lost love, love, nostalgia, death, birth, death, ocean,

Birth and Death

The sun and moon conceived a star shooting through time and space born within the ocean delivered upon its waves while Beethoven's sonatas softly played nightly gales whispered those tunes to all the seashells beach sand passed through coral reefs as soles of lovers feet tread buried in beach fires deep begging the earth most humbly to draw a breath but over the cliff the hurricane's wind blew until death from those turbulent ocean waters came a sailor's truth watching a passing ship with broken sails and ghostly crew waiting as death cast it's ending shadow old, yet new sending those born in ocean waves back to the waters blue in birth and death none shall overcome casting us away to where everything was once created in it's hidden depths and there began an understanding between birth and death, a truce
Inspired by: John FKennedy." We are tied to the oceanAnd when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came." 9112007


Poem Details | by Johnette Loefgren |
Categories: happiness, life, love, nostalgia, people, me, me, morning,

If You Are The Ocean...

If you are the ocean, then I am the mist
which kisses the morning the way children kissed
their mother at breakfast to start a new day
If you are the ocean, then anchors aweigh
We'll sail through the evening and on to the light
The daystar is dawning, we'll keep to the right
like Peter and Wendy to Neverlands' door
we'll sail on forever and touch every shore
If you are the ocean, come wash me away
to some misty morning and there we will play
on beaches you've loved all your lovely life long
If you are the ocean, then sing me a song
of sailors and treasures and I'll have to say
If you are the ocean, come wash me away...


Poem Details | by Marlies Agdomar |
Categories: lost love, love, nostalgia, romance, love,

Love's Amnesia

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When you hug someone you love and instantly your knees get weak….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When someone whom you truly love looks deeps into your eyes and
Suddenly the rest of the world disappears….

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like
when someone you love kisses you on your lips and
suddenly you feel butterflies creeping in your stomach…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Getting intimate with someone and wishing it would never end
Wanting more…..

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Being in love…

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like putting my feelings on paper
Until I remembered what it feels like Loving you…..

Dedicated to My Soul Mate....


Poem Details | by Vince Suzadail Jr. |
Categories: music, nostalgia, song-me, heart, heart, love, me, time,

Music Take Me Back

When I'm blue and need something to make me smile
I can turn on my forty fives and listen for a while
Jimmy Gilmer sang about a Sugar Shack
Holding hands, walking down that railroad track
Then I let the music take me back.

Take me back to a time when love was new
Take me back to a time when skies were blue
When we could catch that falling star
Make love in the back seat of my car
Music, oh sweet music, take me back

Doo-wop memories touched my soul
Mixed with the early days of rock and roll
I close my eyes and through the haze
I see sunshine and better days
Music take me back to those times again.

There was Bandstand on TV in black and white
Radio on 'til you fell asleep at night
There were dances at the school
And swimming in the community pool
Music take me back, let me remember when.

Did we believe those days would forever last
Were things so much better in the past
I dream of days when a movie
Meant kissing in the balcony
Music take me back, let my heart roam.

It seems like a thousand years ago
We found true love and watched it grow
I know this is where my heart belongs
When I listen to those songs
Music take me back, please take me home.


Poem Details | by Freddie Robinson Jr. |
Categories: love, nostalgia, summer, weather,

Cool Summer Breeze


There are very few things more refreshing
than a cool breeze on a hot summer day
Couple that with a glass of iced tea in the evening,
or maybe some chilled lemonade in some afternoon shade
When that tropical breeze blows
on your hot, perspiring skin
It is so rejuvenating, it is soul refreshing
Oh it feels like how you feel
after you finish making love,
and it feels like how you feel
when you start making love again
It's a top-of-the-morning type of feelin',
it's a late night, down low kind of chillin'
Riding on that summer breeze
makes you ready and always willing
to take a journey to love that is so, so fulfilling
There's not a lot of things in life
more pleasant than this 
Catching a cool summer breeze
is something I never ever want to miss


Poem Details | by MoonBee Canady |
Categories: daughter, family, funny, happiness, life, love, mother, nature, nostalgia, peace, people, seasons

Its Raining...

                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again

                               Amen


Poem Details | by Rhoda Tripp |
Categories: childhood, crush, cute love, first love, heartbreak, love, nostalgia,

Love Letter

In the back of my closet,
high upon the shelf,
there sits an old love letter
that I keep to myself.

Its pages are crumpled,
the edges a tad bit torn.
I can recite his words by memory,
although the writings worn.

He tells of his undying love,
and how we were meant to be.
Our vows whispered at the church,
they were our fantasy.

Like all things, neither tried nor true,
we had to be apart.
A victim of the ages,
he broke my sixth grade heart.


Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: allegory, death, devotion, forgiveness, imagination, life, love, nostalgia, passion, recovery from..., sorry, time, woman, tree, prayer, life, tree,

Revive the Breakage

High upon the highest heights I see the most tremulous sight A small girl, fair and tranquil Smiling strangely, sitting still Beneath a sobbing willow tree She recites a verse upon her knee She sings a rhythmic hymn Not of death, nothing grim But prays that life will return Even for those who are doomed to burn The girl is a woman now Beneath the tree and upon the cloud She whispers, “I am watching you” Why then are you so blue? A single tear of sadness and joy Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy Who sits down beneath the blooming tree Listening to her silent voice attentively She reminds him she was once young too That she also was a misty shade of blue But when the boy grows into man He has come to ignore the fair woman Who watches him still from above Burning and swelling with disdainful love The ways of the world have sweltered his heart And time has torn his soul apart Thus he has lost all innocence and light Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight! I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears Reducing the vigilant woman to tears The prayer of the innocent has been ignored Life has died and hellfire stored Into the hearts of the impotent In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent Toiling in misery and lament Savaged and severed by our regret The heavenly woman grows old and frail And the man still treads the sinful trail As the rotting tree withers into dust Can I revive it? –I must! Low as low can possibly be I watch myself condescendingly A tombstone, gray and hell-bent Frowning knowingly in bewilderment Above the dust that once was a tree She cries out a verse anxiously Faintly she whispers the undying hymn Not of happiness, nothing of whim And prays that life will come to end For those that break instead of bend


Poem Details | by Lynn Marie |
Categories: food, imagination, life, love, nature, nostalgia, passion,

delectable pleasure

on a quiet 
Sunday 
afternoon
rain 
playfully 
danced
amidst the 
flourishing 
trees of 
Georgia.

memories 
tempt 
tastebuds
with a 
sweet juicy 
nectar
ripe with 
luscious 
desire.

sensually 
fragrant
arousing 
all senses
slowly, 
delicately, 
sensually.

peaches 
simply are..

the Fruit 
of the 
Gods..

one of 
life's 
delectable 
pleasures,
for the God 
& Goddess 
in all.


Poem Details | by Tony Bush |
Categories: loss, lost love, love, nostalgia, sad,

Periphery

On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.

Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.

Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.

No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.