The turn out was wonderful. There were 20 different people who contributed poems. These challenges are wondeful and I can't wait for someone to start the next one. : )
Caila Ihle, KJC, Emelen, Zoya Zaidi, Emma, Aliena, Kathy Lockhart, F.i.n.e Moods, and Night Soul Woman
Then the male contributors:
Dan Cederholm, Saga, Rob Graber, Rik, Daybreaker, Chrirstian Lanciai, lastromantichero, Cr4ky, Nepenthes, Dino DeTorquemada, Alarian, and Coolaaron88
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Caila Ihle
Emancipation of Youth (for the Challenge thing)
There was a house near my beloved port
With skeletons numerous, chattering
And o'er the years the battles that were fought
Brought patience with ill-eased winds battering.
My childhood playground wrapped in shades of white
With laughter echoing like beauty's song
Much to savour, sweet culinary delight
A haven, a place where I could belong.
The shed, curiosity taught me much
Hand-tilled garden, water pumped from the well
Virtues, traits absorbed within me as such
Tales heard from the seeds of the earth, from hell.
Tradition passed to waters unchartered
Yet my soul, that house, will ne'er be parted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By KJC
~Mom's Big Umbrella ~(Coolaaron88 Challenge)
I remember my mom
Coming to school
Dressed up in a fluffy hat
With long gloves
And fitted suit, matching shoes,
She came with a big umbrella
To shelter us from the storm
Of course I loved to paddle
puddles in bare feet
On glassy streets
And place Popsicle sticks
In gutters to beat my
Friends with ice cream sticks,
I loved to count buses zooming by
And collect numbers on cig packets
Don't ask me why?
Rainy days I loved for puddles
And splashing friends as they go by~
This day my mom came with
A big umbrella all dressed up to the nine
And at home she had cookies ready
From the wood stove fired in time
I remember lots of good things
But this memory I can't get out of my mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Emelen
response to the Challenge by Coolaaron
The season untouched by frost
Hands discovering the yet untamed
Evoking the longing that would last from now on
Seeing the white skeleton
Under her embroided smile
Mass on hot sundays
Mouth forming her name in prayers
Eternal damnation awaiting us
Reciting Hail Mary as she undressed
Immaculata
Posing in blue uniforms for our mothers
A hidden touch behind the lens
In her room
Next to each others confession
Tasting with eyes closed
Eyes open
Drowning
Muriel
Untangling my tongue in her letters
Roses grow on her now
I never could save her
Even though she saved my
Longing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Zoya Zaidi
London-Reflections, Then and Now (Would fit Coolaaron's Challenge)
In the wee hours of the morn,
When the time stands still,
World slumbers in the twilight mist,
Birds may have begun to chirrup-
But you can't hear them,
You're windowed in-
In South-East London home-
Away from the life's din...
And the quietude makes you think-
As usually happens on such morns:
You think of the years gone by,
When you'd first set foot on this soil:
Young, enthusiastic, full of beans-
Nineteen summers in life seen-
Everything you loved about the place,
It reminded you of home...
Curry, spices and pickles you sought,
An evening under the Cleopatra's Needle,
Fountains dancing at the Trafalgar Square,
A walk along the Westminster-
Admiring the gothic architecture,
you thought was really quaint...
Struggling with the language you had always spoken,
Yet people never understood the 'Indian accent'...
And it did not even bother you, as brazen
in the park you had luncheon...
Shopping for studded jeans
And books of Solzhenitsyn-
Banned in Moscow, where you studied medicine-
With the thrill of tasting the fruit-forbidden...
Open-air theaters, where you went 'Shakespearean'...
And many more images
Filter through the morning's hazy curtains
Floating before the mind's eye...
Time has gone by
And today Thames flows with the similar calm,
Centuries of water, gallons and gallons,
must have since flowed...
On the banks stands the Tower Of London.
And you think of those
'Hanged, Drawn and Quartered',
Maybe some of them your own forefathers...
History intermingles past with present...
A Nation that has flowed like blood
in your veins...and you still love it!
(Maybe deep down even resent it...)
Today,
With all your obstacles overcome with time,
You can communicate without a hitch,
Say what you have to say,
and be understood.
Express your fears, desires and tribulations
Sorrows, joys and frustrations-
(Without batting an eyelid)-
And get even appreciated...
Sit and chat on the dinner table
With your daughter who has taken
a step further-
Has chosen this town to live in...
Life has come full circle...
You sit,
Contemplate and introspect...
And a question suddenly pops up:
Was it really worth it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Emma
Holding Papa's hand (Coolaarons Challenge)
Holding Papa's hand again
that's nice
I can see me
little girl skipping
along beside Papa
chattering excitedly away.
It's so nice to see you again
Papa, just so nice
I'd forgotten that song
you would sing as we
walked along the road
Where are we headed I wonder?
Look at me
was I ever that small?
and wearing that horrid bow
that Eva kept putting in my hair
You're taking me for that ice-cream
at the end of the road,
a big fluffy whipped up cream
with a chocolate flake
that's why I'm so excited
I had such a sweet tooth
in those days
There we are now
I'm pulling at your hand
Can't wait to have my treat
even though it is said
that '99's are made of pig fat
It's nearly bigger than me
I can see ice-cream all over my face
then – oh no!
It's on the ground, and I'm bawling
and you are bending down
wiping my eyes with that
big red spotted handkerchief
I remember that day so well,
it's so nice to see it again
You bought me another ice-cream
this time I didn't drop it
and as it melted,
I got ice-cream all down the front
of my dress
I miss you a lot Papa,
all the fun we had
you and me together
going about our adventures
but now its time to go back,
back to the here and now
I'll just take one more look
at that silly little girl
holding your hand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Aliena
Under the plane-trees. Contribution to Coolaaron's challenge
Sensing roast chestnuts in the air,
I see plane-trees waving
with yellow hands,
all the dark-eyed children
from a time long past
like angels chained
in a white row
to a black nun
Should we die now,
just coming from confession,
(Gesù, Giuseppe e Maria,
salvezza dell'anima mia...)
we'd come to
heaven?
Maybe
not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Kathy Lockhart
Through the Ages
The past holds memories of loss and gain
Of happiness and unrelenting pain
From childhood to adulthood
It is all the same
Each day brings such things it brings
Songs and dirges to sing
Some are pitiful; some are small;
Some are breath taking;
Some create the fall
Of all the faith that once was built
From innocence to knowledge
And all in between
All that's left to be seen
Through eyes as we grow
Living life and all it holds
From the scrape of a knee
To rejection in the school of snobbery
Each has its place
In the order of things.
Each penetrates and tolls a bell a ring
For all those who have been through
Sorrow and more
Happiness comes by way of the door
To freedom and expression of thoughts
To be able to tell what is true and what is not
Bicycles stolen, hearts broken, fun at the zoo
All have impression they leave on me and you.
We take what is dealt and then deal what we will
Of what we have learned
And
Discerned from each bitter pill
From illness and vitamins and drugs of our time
All have their purpose of a different kind,
A beginning and ending of Nursery Rhymes
That holds to us fast in memories of long and of near
Bringing us sadness and bringing us fear
However, the best of all that remains is the joy
That comes from living a life fully employed
With learning and giving and being yourself
Nothing to hide with dust on a shelf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By F.i.n.e Moods
-- place d'youville, québec qc canada - 1989-1994... i lived around there on the streets during those years... in response to your challenge pertaining to our past... though not the best times of my life in many respects for the obvious reasons, there were nonetheless good times i'll never be able to forget... this one about a particular night when a group of us had gathered together and just enjoyed living for a while, away from worries... this is for them, i wish them well wherever they may be today... songs mentioned are "Add It Up" and "Blister In The Sun" both by Violent Femmes...
J-P had come by with his guitar,
he was singing away:
"don't shoot, shoot, shoot
that thing at me, you know
you got my sympathy..." with
that contagious smile of his,
next came "Blister In The Sun"
and more fun rhythmed songs,
while all of us were lying,
sitting on the grass at
the top of St. John's Gates
getting into his spirits
we were smiling too,
laughing, playing,
singing just having the
greatest of moment
even though the air
was cooler that night -
the sky was crisp black,
the stars very bright,
Fall was manifesting,
and most of us didn't
know where sleep
would be yet, it didn't
matter right then,
we were together,
breathing, and able
to share and enjoy
the free feeling we
created that time
there were no griefs,
and living was good
with perceivable,
memorable evidence
and though many years have
gone by, and i don't know
where most of them are at today
we're still together, laughing
and free in my smiling memories...
an unforgettable night
etched in my heart and senses
for the rest of my life, it's sure...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Night Soul Woman
Do you remember?(my contribution to Coolaaron88's challenge)
Do you remember the days
that you and I
climped to the top of
the highest tree
and tried to touch the sky?
Do you remember the time
When you and I
hidden behind the bushes
played the couple in love?
Do you remember the nights
That you and I
past bed time
played pillow fight
and broke the bed?
Do you remember?
When we were chasing
butterflies?
Do you remember?
The sandcastle we built
before the waves washed it away.
Those were the days
when we still believed.
Do you remember
what we believed?
I forgot. ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Dan Cederholm
Thoughts from my childhood! (my contribution to Coolaaron88's challenge)
I was trapped and wrapped
in my thoughts and mind
I am, I was just left behind
at the birthday party all alone
When this girl from my first school
come to me and took my hand
and she ask me if we could be friends
She invited me to cinema the day after
it was a movie "Love Story" oh my oh my
her sister who was much older looked after us
We where only nine years old, so young and so pure
I didn't know anything about love that's for true
but she was really loving me and pay me all attention
I get so scarred of all here love and attention
so I run away and left here and here sister
and I newer se or talk to here anymore
The years passed by and I grew old
after all this years I know what love is
but still I get scared of loves attention
But deep inside I am walking on roses
I love a wonderful woman
and love is my life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Saga
Welcoming spring in New Orleans
Every year, we went,
Me and my best friend, Phil,
We saved up our money,
Between Europe and bills, bills, bills,
Always Jazzfest, not Mardi Gras,
Because the crowd is more down to earth, not elaborate,
You get the true feel of Bourbon street,
Beyond the booze and the beads,
We travel through the afternoon,
Through the traffic of Atlanta,
Speeding through Alabama, 'til we hit Mobile,
There, we dine, check out the scenery, then press on,
To Biloxi/Gulfport Mississippi, to the casinos,
Play our slots with most of our loot,
We crash out in the hotel, to get ready for tomorrow,
The "House of the rising sun" is less than 2 hours away,
We drive into the horsetrack,
To the land of 1,000 music acts, food and heat,
Every act you ever heard of is there, except the Dead,
Every face is a new culture of happiness, jovial embrace,
And the flags, those colorful flags attached to their bodies,
Representing a family, a feeling, a way of life,
You can find the years here, the 60's, 70's, 80's,
You forget your present, unless it bumps into you,
The last act I saw was the Neville Brothers,
The official New Orleans trademark,
And there it is, Bourbon street,
I sing " A moon over Bourbon street", through the street,
Through the flashing of the beads and other flashings,
And also the wonderful laughter of the spirits,
Through the bottle, through the souls, through the culture,
It's still there, through the water,
And it's in the music, now in foster homes,
Waiting to get back, as I am,
New York transplant in the Big Easy, once again,
The dancer moves without a trace,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Rob Graber
Past Found Poem, 1995 (Johnny Miller, quoted in "Amazing but True Golf Facts Calendar," Sept. 10-11)
Too many people
carry the last shot with them.
It is a heavy
and useless burden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Rik
The missed past (Coolaaron challenge)
There is a past that i miss
it exists only in my dreams
the things i did
the things i said
i never got to play that scene
where you sat across the table
and looked into my eyes
and said - "I love you"
that's all it ever - should've been.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Daybreaker
GASOLINE DREAMS
It's way past bedtime and I'm out here in the cold.
Moonlit memories of a life that's gone old.
The things I can't remember are haunting me downhill.
The things I can't forget are worse, even still.
The past casts it's hazy shadow fast.
Has trespassed the vast depth at last.
I know what happened at that time.
Strange images of incestuous crime.
The garden smells like it did before.
Smell of roses I used to adore.
Later on I was damaged and sore.
Made a vow to avenge for sure.
Gasoline dreams are about to come true.
Set the past on fire like you always do.
Matches are lit, inferno grows wild.
Vindictive smile, that hurt, sorrow child.
You're dreaming a dream, burning in bed.
I held my promise, now you burn instead.
As I leave the grounds of burning past,
I've buried that hurting child, at last.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Christian Lanciai
Woodstock - in restrospect after 37 years, something for Coolaaron's challenge?
It was all a craze, of course,
a most absurd idea of most immoderate proportions,
a phantasmagoria of surrealistic recklessness
to stage this concert of megalomania for an audience of five hundred thousand,
all well fed with food and drink and any drugs for half a week,
with children getting born during the concert and some others dying,
everything allowed, the music being anything and perfectly without self-criticism;
and still there was something spectacularly sane about this whole flipped-out event,
so many people gathered just for music's sake to be together in a ruse,
intoxicated like on something so out of the ordinary as a common trip
to never really get completely back again, and, for a number of them, never to recover.
None of us was there, and still it feels today as if it was just yesterday
and as a great historical concern for all of us, not thirty-seven years away,
but recently, and in that omnipresent zone of timelessness,
that you are constantly in touch with as a practising musician -
the idea was very good, no matter how it sounded and whatever were the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By lastromantichero
Father and Me We lost out again by M.A.Meddings a text for Coolaarons challenge
In the fifties I remember when
The world revolved but slowly
And mine was embraced
By white lined avenues of school day sports
And high school girls in blazer and shorts
With rain drenched Sunday afternoons
In grey day seaside dank tea rooms
There was nothing quite so sad
As rain washed Sundays
Wished for fun days but were not
When sodden grass floods followed the wood
And my father like a battled warrior stood
Out in the rain and played on
He was nothing if not competitive my father
I would more that he rather
Have taken me fishing
In the end I did my own angling
And she was so beautiful when I caught her
But father and me
We lost out again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Cr4ky
I long for the past
When the skies where blue and shiny
and my eyes where young and mild
i would run towards the mountains
i loved to see the wild
when the rain fell down on green grass
and my eyes where caught by drops
i would look towards the heavens
and i wondered
i was young and dreams where happy
and my heart was full of joy
blessed be the painless childhood
and i was dreaming
now i lost my happy childhood
expectations bring me down
now i long for careless thursday
and i dream of children`s song
sorting feelings is my dayjob
helping others is my night
so i long for thoughtless freedom
now i dream about the past
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Nepenthes
Sweet Memories
I remember walking along a riverside
With black-haired, shining beauty,
The stars in the night sky dancing with colour.
I remember beach house cottages in white sand,
Where cicadas drowned the evening silence;
Wailing, impatiently, as the queen chose her mate.
I remember soft black evening gowns,
With tantalizing hints of skin in all the right places,
The kind of skin that makes men howl with fright.
I remember the first kiss with a dark-haired smile,
A smile so white and wild it took my breath,
Eyes so silver-flashing my heart skip-danced.
I remember lush green parks turning into meadows,
The kind of body that conquers shadows,
And howls at whatever she left of the moon.
I remember track fields metamorphing into wonder,
With children's addictive, salty laughter,
And that mesmerizing, beautiful dance she did.
I remember talking into night-light, sipping together,
Exploring the blend, ignoring the trends of otherwise,
Prowling, circling, laughing - please, mate with me?
I remember answers, the kinds that flutter the heart,
Park benches, magic carpet rides in the woods,
With dragon guards attending upon the tenderness.
I remember tears of joy for the simplest things in life,
Her thoughtful soul wandering amongst the masses,
Wondering if anybody was hurt by any purple dirt.
I remember crying at the thought of causing her pain,
And lunging at others who might have tried,
I burned their passionless eyes with dragon-fire!
I remember colours and flowers and papier-mâché,
I count the hours, not the days, weeks, or years;
And, most of all, my love, I remember us.
At Least There are Tears
These turbulent prayers, my dear,
Will not mistake
That his heart is of ice,
And may melt in the wake;
It may thaw in the doubts, my pet,
Of this retreat,
And though he'll be stricken
With remnants of heat,
They are nothing but flames, my sweet,
Only fire,
With which he may hammer
A funeral pyre.
A caress in the dark, darling,
Kiss in the night,
May frighten the clowns, darling,
Scatter the light,
But what is the light, my love,
When there is fear?
At least we have us, my love,
And we have tears.
Yes, we have tears, beloved,
And they are dear;
They wash away pain, beloved,
Offer us years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Dino DeTorquemada
ROOM OVERLOOKING THE LAKE - for Coolaaron's challenge.
You there in the back row, third from right, class of 1985,
back when the world was busy telling long jokes
in the college bar, or chanting slogans
in support of the Brazilian rain forests
or the Mothers Of The Disappointed; the one who knew
where he was going and went, smooth
as mustard being spread across an old man's head,
to that Civil Service pension
and all those lunch-times spent munching
onion sandwiches and watching
as the dole-queues came and went,
like weeds. The rest of us still skulking
on and off various trains, or forever crouched
behind the couch the day the rent-man came around,
and you already a man
any forty year old woman would've been proud
to bring home to her mother: that briefcase guaranteed
to make it through all those evening streets
and pairs of slippers to a priest one day whispering:
"ashes to ashes, dust to dust, life not changed,
merely ended." This is what, to a man, we predicted.
Not the gin for dinner, the whiskey
across your Corn Flakes. The wife giving up on you
the day you started putting
hard-boiled eggs under the mattress
'just to see what would happen'.
Later you looking like death cooled down
as you stood on the street corner crooning
"Lets dance." And now being led
into the back of an ambulance ranting:
"Can't pay, won't pay!", then going off through
the pale hatchet-faced afternoon
to another basket-weaving class, another game
of dominos in that room overlooking the lake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Alarian
Full Stop & Go
We end up our thoughts
(we,to be taken seriously)
by watching the light bulbs
we say "We have got enough"
"What do we need?"
no more "What do we want?"
if we look into the past
the day before
we will wander off
if we look into the future
the day after
we will wait
What is missing
& taken so seriously?
What is this that cannot get off my head?
Is there a progress
when a wish is born
& then years later comes true?
Can't you wait?
We were born
then lifes later we die
to be taken seriously
we think "A wish is born
then lifes later we die"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Coolaaron88
Reflections
I look back on the days when life was few
Problems were little and time was new
The weeks went by with speed and I knew
Life was forever and reality was true
Somehow time was unstable and left me alone
Lost in a illusion and my location was unknown
I seeked a place where I had control
All the time I wanted and a song in my soul
The past held the key to all of my dreams
Could I unlock it, at first it seemed
Then it hit me, time lost was destroyed
Gone forever in a faceless void
Today was my mirror and all I could see
Was that of the past, here to remind me
That the present was better, I had the control
I sought from the past, I had reached my goal
Life was good and now I could see
That today was mine and the future was guaranteed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry by Coolaaron88
Read 540 times
Written on 2006-09-02 at 17:34
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Final Post for the challenge "I long for the past or does it long for thee?"
First I would like to say that the turn out for this challenge was bigger than expected. Many people have obviously had many experiences with the past because all poems that were posted were very deep and beautiful. I of course had to post something because I felt I had to. Anyway let me list the people who contributed. Ladies First:Caila Ihle, KJC, Emelen, Zoya Zaidi, Emma, Aliena, Kathy Lockhart, F.i.n.e Moods, and Night Soul Woman
Then the male contributors:
Dan Cederholm, Saga, Rob Graber, Rik, Daybreaker, Chrirstian Lanciai, lastromantichero, Cr4ky, Nepenthes, Dino DeTorquemada, Alarian, and Coolaaron88
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Caila Ihle
Emancipation of Youth (for the Challenge thing)
There was a house near my beloved port
With skeletons numerous, chattering
And o'er the years the battles that were fought
Brought patience with ill-eased winds battering.
My childhood playground wrapped in shades of white
With laughter echoing like beauty's song
Much to savour, sweet culinary delight
A haven, a place where I could belong.
The shed, curiosity taught me much
Hand-tilled garden, water pumped from the well
Virtues, traits absorbed within me as such
Tales heard from the seeds of the earth, from hell.
Tradition passed to waters unchartered
Yet my soul, that house, will ne'er be parted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By KJC
~Mom's Big Umbrella ~(Coolaaron88 Challenge)
I remember my mom
Coming to school
Dressed up in a fluffy hat
With long gloves
And fitted suit, matching shoes,
She came with a big umbrella
To shelter us from the storm
Of course I loved to paddle
puddles in bare feet
On glassy streets
And place Popsicle sticks
In gutters to beat my
Friends with ice cream sticks,
I loved to count buses zooming by
And collect numbers on cig packets
Don't ask me why?
Rainy days I loved for puddles
And splashing friends as they go by~
This day my mom came with
A big umbrella all dressed up to the nine
And at home she had cookies ready
From the wood stove fired in time
I remember lots of good things
But this memory I can't get out of my mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Emelen
response to the Challenge by Coolaaron
The season untouched by frost
Hands discovering the yet untamed
Evoking the longing that would last from now on
Seeing the white skeleton
Under her embroided smile
Mass on hot sundays
Mouth forming her name in prayers
Eternal damnation awaiting us
Reciting Hail Mary as she undressed
Immaculata
Posing in blue uniforms for our mothers
A hidden touch behind the lens
In her room
Next to each others confession
Tasting with eyes closed
Eyes open
Drowning
Muriel
Untangling my tongue in her letters
Roses grow on her now
I never could save her
Even though she saved my
Longing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Zoya Zaidi
London-Reflections, Then and Now (Would fit Coolaaron's Challenge)
In the wee hours of the morn,
When the time stands still,
World slumbers in the twilight mist,
Birds may have begun to chirrup-
But you can't hear them,
You're windowed in-
In South-East London home-
Away from the life's din...
And the quietude makes you think-
As usually happens on such morns:
You think of the years gone by,
When you'd first set foot on this soil:
Young, enthusiastic, full of beans-
Nineteen summers in life seen-
Everything you loved about the place,
It reminded you of home...
Curry, spices and pickles you sought,
An evening under the Cleopatra's Needle,
Fountains dancing at the Trafalgar Square,
A walk along the Westminster-
Admiring the gothic architecture,
you thought was really quaint...
Struggling with the language you had always spoken,
Yet people never understood the 'Indian accent'...
And it did not even bother you, as brazen
in the park you had luncheon...
Shopping for studded jeans
And books of Solzhenitsyn-
Banned in Moscow, where you studied medicine-
With the thrill of tasting the fruit-forbidden...
Open-air theaters, where you went 'Shakespearean'...
And many more images
Filter through the morning's hazy curtains
Floating before the mind's eye...
Time has gone by
And today Thames flows with the similar calm,
Centuries of water, gallons and gallons,
must have since flowed...
On the banks stands the Tower Of London.
And you think of those
'Hanged, Drawn and Quartered',
Maybe some of them your own forefathers...
History intermingles past with present...
A Nation that has flowed like blood
in your veins...and you still love it!
(Maybe deep down even resent it...)
Today,
With all your obstacles overcome with time,
You can communicate without a hitch,
Say what you have to say,
and be understood.
Express your fears, desires and tribulations
Sorrows, joys and frustrations-
(Without batting an eyelid)-
And get even appreciated...
Sit and chat on the dinner table
With your daughter who has taken
a step further-
Has chosen this town to live in...
Life has come full circle...
You sit,
Contemplate and introspect...
And a question suddenly pops up:
Was it really worth it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Emma
Holding Papa's hand (Coolaarons Challenge)
Holding Papa's hand again
that's nice
I can see me
little girl skipping
along beside Papa
chattering excitedly away.
It's so nice to see you again
Papa, just so nice
I'd forgotten that song
you would sing as we
walked along the road
Where are we headed I wonder?
Look at me
was I ever that small?
and wearing that horrid bow
that Eva kept putting in my hair
You're taking me for that ice-cream
at the end of the road,
a big fluffy whipped up cream
with a chocolate flake
that's why I'm so excited
I had such a sweet tooth
in those days
There we are now
I'm pulling at your hand
Can't wait to have my treat
even though it is said
that '99's are made of pig fat
It's nearly bigger than me
I can see ice-cream all over my face
then – oh no!
It's on the ground, and I'm bawling
and you are bending down
wiping my eyes with that
big red spotted handkerchief
I remember that day so well,
it's so nice to see it again
You bought me another ice-cream
this time I didn't drop it
and as it melted,
I got ice-cream all down the front
of my dress
I miss you a lot Papa,
all the fun we had
you and me together
going about our adventures
but now its time to go back,
back to the here and now
I'll just take one more look
at that silly little girl
holding your hand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Aliena
Under the plane-trees. Contribution to Coolaaron's challenge
Sensing roast chestnuts in the air,
I see plane-trees waving
with yellow hands,
all the dark-eyed children
from a time long past
like angels chained
in a white row
to a black nun
Should we die now,
just coming from confession,
(Gesù, Giuseppe e Maria,
salvezza dell'anima mia...)
we'd come to
heaven?
Maybe
not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Kathy Lockhart
Through the Ages
The past holds memories of loss and gain
Of happiness and unrelenting pain
From childhood to adulthood
It is all the same
Each day brings such things it brings
Songs and dirges to sing
Some are pitiful; some are small;
Some are breath taking;
Some create the fall
Of all the faith that once was built
From innocence to knowledge
And all in between
All that's left to be seen
Through eyes as we grow
Living life and all it holds
From the scrape of a knee
To rejection in the school of snobbery
Each has its place
In the order of things.
Each penetrates and tolls a bell a ring
For all those who have been through
Sorrow and more
Happiness comes by way of the door
To freedom and expression of thoughts
To be able to tell what is true and what is not
Bicycles stolen, hearts broken, fun at the zoo
All have impression they leave on me and you.
We take what is dealt and then deal what we will
Of what we have learned
And
Discerned from each bitter pill
From illness and vitamins and drugs of our time
All have their purpose of a different kind,
A beginning and ending of Nursery Rhymes
That holds to us fast in memories of long and of near
Bringing us sadness and bringing us fear
However, the best of all that remains is the joy
That comes from living a life fully employed
With learning and giving and being yourself
Nothing to hide with dust on a shelf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By F.i.n.e Moods
-- place d'youville, québec qc canada - 1989-1994... i lived around there on the streets during those years... in response to your challenge pertaining to our past... though not the best times of my life in many respects for the obvious reasons, there were nonetheless good times i'll never be able to forget... this one about a particular night when a group of us had gathered together and just enjoyed living for a while, away from worries... this is for them, i wish them well wherever they may be today... songs mentioned are "Add It Up" and "Blister In The Sun" both by Violent Femmes...
J-P had come by with his guitar,
he was singing away:
"don't shoot, shoot, shoot
that thing at me, you know
you got my sympathy..." with
that contagious smile of his,
next came "Blister In The Sun"
and more fun rhythmed songs,
while all of us were lying,
sitting on the grass at
the top of St. John's Gates
getting into his spirits
we were smiling too,
laughing, playing,
singing just having the
greatest of moment
even though the air
was cooler that night -
the sky was crisp black,
the stars very bright,
Fall was manifesting,
and most of us didn't
know where sleep
would be yet, it didn't
matter right then,
we were together,
breathing, and able
to share and enjoy
the free feeling we
created that time
there were no griefs,
and living was good
with perceivable,
memorable evidence
and though many years have
gone by, and i don't know
where most of them are at today
we're still together, laughing
and free in my smiling memories...
an unforgettable night
etched in my heart and senses
for the rest of my life, it's sure...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Night Soul Woman
Do you remember?(my contribution to Coolaaron88's challenge)
Do you remember the days
that you and I
climped to the top of
the highest tree
and tried to touch the sky?
Do you remember the time
When you and I
hidden behind the bushes
played the couple in love?
Do you remember the nights
That you and I
past bed time
played pillow fight
and broke the bed?
Do you remember?
When we were chasing
butterflies?
Do you remember?
The sandcastle we built
before the waves washed it away.
Those were the days
when we still believed.
Do you remember
what we believed?
I forgot. ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Dan Cederholm
Thoughts from my childhood! (my contribution to Coolaaron88's challenge)
I was trapped and wrapped
in my thoughts and mind
I am, I was just left behind
at the birthday party all alone
When this girl from my first school
come to me and took my hand
and she ask me if we could be friends
She invited me to cinema the day after
it was a movie "Love Story" oh my oh my
her sister who was much older looked after us
We where only nine years old, so young and so pure
I didn't know anything about love that's for true
but she was really loving me and pay me all attention
I get so scarred of all here love and attention
so I run away and left here and here sister
and I newer se or talk to here anymore
The years passed by and I grew old
after all this years I know what love is
but still I get scared of loves attention
But deep inside I am walking on roses
I love a wonderful woman
and love is my life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Saga
Welcoming spring in New Orleans
Every year, we went,
Me and my best friend, Phil,
We saved up our money,
Between Europe and bills, bills, bills,
Always Jazzfest, not Mardi Gras,
Because the crowd is more down to earth, not elaborate,
You get the true feel of Bourbon street,
Beyond the booze and the beads,
We travel through the afternoon,
Through the traffic of Atlanta,
Speeding through Alabama, 'til we hit Mobile,
There, we dine, check out the scenery, then press on,
To Biloxi/Gulfport Mississippi, to the casinos,
Play our slots with most of our loot,
We crash out in the hotel, to get ready for tomorrow,
The "House of the rising sun" is less than 2 hours away,
We drive into the horsetrack,
To the land of 1,000 music acts, food and heat,
Every act you ever heard of is there, except the Dead,
Every face is a new culture of happiness, jovial embrace,
And the flags, those colorful flags attached to their bodies,
Representing a family, a feeling, a way of life,
You can find the years here, the 60's, 70's, 80's,
You forget your present, unless it bumps into you,
The last act I saw was the Neville Brothers,
The official New Orleans trademark,
And there it is, Bourbon street,
I sing " A moon over Bourbon street", through the street,
Through the flashing of the beads and other flashings,
And also the wonderful laughter of the spirits,
Through the bottle, through the souls, through the culture,
It's still there, through the water,
And it's in the music, now in foster homes,
Waiting to get back, as I am,
New York transplant in the Big Easy, once again,
The dancer moves without a trace,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Rob Graber
Past Found Poem, 1995 (Johnny Miller, quoted in "Amazing but True Golf Facts Calendar," Sept. 10-11)
Too many people
carry the last shot with them.
It is a heavy
and useless burden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Rik
The missed past (Coolaaron challenge)
There is a past that i miss
it exists only in my dreams
the things i did
the things i said
i never got to play that scene
where you sat across the table
and looked into my eyes
and said - "I love you"
that's all it ever - should've been.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Daybreaker
GASOLINE DREAMS
It's way past bedtime and I'm out here in the cold.
Moonlit memories of a life that's gone old.
The things I can't remember are haunting me downhill.
The things I can't forget are worse, even still.
The past casts it's hazy shadow fast.
Has trespassed the vast depth at last.
I know what happened at that time.
Strange images of incestuous crime.
The garden smells like it did before.
Smell of roses I used to adore.
Later on I was damaged and sore.
Made a vow to avenge for sure.
Gasoline dreams are about to come true.
Set the past on fire like you always do.
Matches are lit, inferno grows wild.
Vindictive smile, that hurt, sorrow child.
You're dreaming a dream, burning in bed.
I held my promise, now you burn instead.
As I leave the grounds of burning past,
I've buried that hurting child, at last.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Christian Lanciai
Woodstock - in restrospect after 37 years, something for Coolaaron's challenge?
It was all a craze, of course,
a most absurd idea of most immoderate proportions,
a phantasmagoria of surrealistic recklessness
to stage this concert of megalomania for an audience of five hundred thousand,
all well fed with food and drink and any drugs for half a week,
with children getting born during the concert and some others dying,
everything allowed, the music being anything and perfectly without self-criticism;
and still there was something spectacularly sane about this whole flipped-out event,
so many people gathered just for music's sake to be together in a ruse,
intoxicated like on something so out of the ordinary as a common trip
to never really get completely back again, and, for a number of them, never to recover.
None of us was there, and still it feels today as if it was just yesterday
and as a great historical concern for all of us, not thirty-seven years away,
but recently, and in that omnipresent zone of timelessness,
that you are constantly in touch with as a practising musician -
the idea was very good, no matter how it sounded and whatever were the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By lastromantichero
Father and Me We lost out again by M.A.Meddings a text for Coolaarons challenge
In the fifties I remember when
The world revolved but slowly
And mine was embraced
By white lined avenues of school day sports
And high school girls in blazer and shorts
With rain drenched Sunday afternoons
In grey day seaside dank tea rooms
There was nothing quite so sad
As rain washed Sundays
Wished for fun days but were not
When sodden grass floods followed the wood
And my father like a battled warrior stood
Out in the rain and played on
He was nothing if not competitive my father
I would more that he rather
Have taken me fishing
In the end I did my own angling
And she was so beautiful when I caught her
But father and me
We lost out again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Cr4ky
I long for the past
When the skies where blue and shiny
and my eyes where young and mild
i would run towards the mountains
i loved to see the wild
when the rain fell down on green grass
and my eyes where caught by drops
i would look towards the heavens
and i wondered
i was young and dreams where happy
and my heart was full of joy
blessed be the painless childhood
and i was dreaming
now i lost my happy childhood
expectations bring me down
now i long for careless thursday
and i dream of children`s song
sorting feelings is my dayjob
helping others is my night
so i long for thoughtless freedom
now i dream about the past
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Nepenthes
Sweet Memories
I remember walking along a riverside
With black-haired, shining beauty,
The stars in the night sky dancing with colour.
I remember beach house cottages in white sand,
Where cicadas drowned the evening silence;
Wailing, impatiently, as the queen chose her mate.
I remember soft black evening gowns,
With tantalizing hints of skin in all the right places,
The kind of skin that makes men howl with fright.
I remember the first kiss with a dark-haired smile,
A smile so white and wild it took my breath,
Eyes so silver-flashing my heart skip-danced.
I remember lush green parks turning into meadows,
The kind of body that conquers shadows,
And howls at whatever she left of the moon.
I remember track fields metamorphing into wonder,
With children's addictive, salty laughter,
And that mesmerizing, beautiful dance she did.
I remember talking into night-light, sipping together,
Exploring the blend, ignoring the trends of otherwise,
Prowling, circling, laughing - please, mate with me?
I remember answers, the kinds that flutter the heart,
Park benches, magic carpet rides in the woods,
With dragon guards attending upon the tenderness.
I remember tears of joy for the simplest things in life,
Her thoughtful soul wandering amongst the masses,
Wondering if anybody was hurt by any purple dirt.
I remember crying at the thought of causing her pain,
And lunging at others who might have tried,
I burned their passionless eyes with dragon-fire!
I remember colours and flowers and papier-mâché,
I count the hours, not the days, weeks, or years;
And, most of all, my love, I remember us.
At Least There are Tears
These turbulent prayers, my dear,
Will not mistake
That his heart is of ice,
And may melt in the wake;
It may thaw in the doubts, my pet,
Of this retreat,
And though he'll be stricken
With remnants of heat,
They are nothing but flames, my sweet,
Only fire,
With which he may hammer
A funeral pyre.
A caress in the dark, darling,
Kiss in the night,
May frighten the clowns, darling,
Scatter the light,
But what is the light, my love,
When there is fear?
At least we have us, my love,
And we have tears.
Yes, we have tears, beloved,
And they are dear;
They wash away pain, beloved,
Offer us years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Dino DeTorquemada
ROOM OVERLOOKING THE LAKE - for Coolaaron's challenge.
You there in the back row, third from right, class of 1985,
back when the world was busy telling long jokes
in the college bar, or chanting slogans
in support of the Brazilian rain forests
or the Mothers Of The Disappointed; the one who knew
where he was going and went, smooth
as mustard being spread across an old man's head,
to that Civil Service pension
and all those lunch-times spent munching
onion sandwiches and watching
as the dole-queues came and went,
like weeds. The rest of us still skulking
on and off various trains, or forever crouched
behind the couch the day the rent-man came around,
and you already a man
any forty year old woman would've been proud
to bring home to her mother: that briefcase guaranteed
to make it through all those evening streets
and pairs of slippers to a priest one day whispering:
"ashes to ashes, dust to dust, life not changed,
merely ended." This is what, to a man, we predicted.
Not the gin for dinner, the whiskey
across your Corn Flakes. The wife giving up on you
the day you started putting
hard-boiled eggs under the mattress
'just to see what would happen'.
Later you looking like death cooled down
as you stood on the street corner crooning
"Lets dance." And now being led
into the back of an ambulance ranting:
"Can't pay, won't pay!", then going off through
the pale hatchet-faced afternoon
to another basket-weaving class, another game
of dominos in that room overlooking the lake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Alarian
Full Stop & Go
We end up our thoughts
(we,to be taken seriously)
by watching the light bulbs
we say "We have got enough"
"What do we need?"
no more "What do we want?"
if we look into the past
the day before
we will wander off
if we look into the future
the day after
we will wait
What is missing
& taken so seriously?
What is this that cannot get off my head?
Is there a progress
when a wish is born
& then years later comes true?
Can't you wait?
We were born
then lifes later we die
to be taken seriously
we think "A wish is born
then lifes later we die"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Coolaaron88
Reflections
I look back on the days when life was few
Problems were little and time was new
The weeks went by with speed and I knew
Life was forever and reality was true
Somehow time was unstable and left me alone
Lost in a illusion and my location was unknown
I seeked a place where I had control
All the time I wanted and a song in my soul
The past held the key to all of my dreams
Could I unlock it, at first it seemed
Then it hit me, time lost was destroyed
Gone forever in a faceless void
Today was my mirror and all I could see
Was that of the past, here to remind me
That the present was better, I had the control
I sought from the past, I had reached my goal
Life was good and now I could see
That today was mine and the future was guaranteed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry by Coolaaron88
Read 540 times
Written on 2006-09-02 at 17:34
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Kathy Lockhart |
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Kathy Lockhart |
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Kathy Lockhart |
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