Nostalgia Poems
Mi Pueblito Perdido
by Carl Halling
O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.
Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
......
Can I go Back?
by Kailey Norris
Let me sit by the brick fireplace,
Let me wade the river in my clothes,
Can I play in the swimming pool?
Let me bake cookies,
Let me sleep in your t-shirt,
Can I smell your midnight cigarettes?
Let me tan in the sun,
Let me stay awake all night,
......
The Scissor Tale
by John Stetson
Walking down the fence line on a sultry night
A scissortail led me with it's slicing flight
Bluebonnets are fading, with her brown eye Susan winks
Past the muddy draw where the divers blink
Roses are prim, paint brushes still dry
But color is calling my wandering eye
I can just get away from the din and the crush
......
Unchanged
by K Louis
I listen to the same playlist
I did ten years ago
some songs have come
and gone
some may have been added
just like the people.
I have my twisted tea
in a lawn chair
and the palm trees wave
at me in the near distance
......
Looking Back...
by B DEWITT
Baby powder
to tiny steps.
into class;
a first desk.
ABC's
and 123's.
The first look
......
Voetstappen in Limburgse aarde
by Mario Odekerken
Zware luchten hangen laag boven het heuvelland.
De grond ademt verhalen
van mensen die gingen
en nooit helemaal verdwenen.
Mijn voeten raken de klei
alsof ze herinneren
wat ik zelf ben vergeten.
Tussen het gras,
......
Streets of London
by Mario Odekerken
Rain glazes the pavement,
turning headlights into whispers.
Pigeons scatter like thoughts
at the edge of morning.
A man hums beneath his breath
on a bench that remembers more than he does.
Some windows glow,
others remain dark,
each one a life you'll never touch.
......
Automne à Paris
by Mario Odekerken
La Seine s'attarde,
comme si elle se souvenait de quelque chose.
Les feuilles dorées s'amoncellent
aux pieds des statues
qui ont vu trop d'adieux.
Nous marchons en silence.
Ta main frôle la mienne,
légère comme le vent
portant l'odeur des marrons chauds,
......
Autumn in Paris
by Mario Odekerken
The Seine moves slowly,
as if remembering something.
Golden leaves gather
at the feet of statues
that have seen too many goodbyes.
We walk without speaking.
Your hand brushes mine,
light as the wind
carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts,
......
Amsterdam 03
by Mario Odekerken
Tussen smalle straten en kromme grachten
beweegt de stad in haar eigen ritme.
Fietsbellen weven door de lucht,
langs gevels die zwijgend verhalen bewaren
van kooplieden, dromers en dwalende zielen.
De geur van vers brood,
haring op een kartonnen schaaltje,
de echo van een draaiorgel
en een zachte bries over het Ij.
......
