Nostalgia Poems
#nostalgia
Nostalgia poems, uplifting poetry fortified with an air of nostalgia. Poetry exploring sentimental affections for the past and poems to remember times gone by. Poems about the popular culture of another era, memories of childhood experiences, or recollections of what home used to feel like.
nomoth
Poem Published
25th Sep 2020 2:07pm
25th Sep 2020 2:07pm
mason bees decorating the lids
visual: mason bees decorating the lids
#confessional
#nostalgia
65 reads
14 Comments
BlueBeastGirl
Poem Published
24th Sep 2020 11:24pm
24th Sep 2020 11:24pm
Wishes for Home
Sitting on my porch
Seattle rain crying again
Incense hanging from my fingers
Needle wedged between my teeth
Resting against my lip
How I wish for so many things
I want to go home
Sit in the middle of the night
Eating candy corn
Sitting by a friend
Talking shit about life
Our bodies kept warm
By our laughter sounding out
Life will never be the same
Faces come and faces go
But still here I am missing home
Seattle rain crying again
Incense hanging from my fingers
Needle wedged between my teeth
Resting against my lip
How I wish for so many things
I want to go home
Sit in the middle of the night
Eating candy corn
Sitting by a friend
Talking shit about life
Our bodies kept warm
By our laughter sounding out
Life will never be the same
Faces come and faces go
But still here I am missing home
#holiday
#nostalgia
26 reads
1 Comment
ljcpoetry
Poem Published
24th Sep 2020 3:36pm
24th Sep 2020 3:36pm
Ironically Nostalgic
Love eludes me,
That which used me up,
Consumed my energy,
Mentally, physically, spiritually,
Devoured my sense of self,
Love that had me spent,
Got me down,
Made my stomach churn,
Rendered me useless,
And mute,
And deaf to good sense,
And blind to other beauty,
Love that incapacitated me absolutely.
Yet I am nostalgic for that love,
The growing pains were worth it,
For it made me feel,
It sent me down into the depths,
It ripped me open and challenged who I was,
And most of all,
It gave me...
That which used me up,
Consumed my energy,
Mentally, physically, spiritually,
Devoured my sense of self,
Love that had me spent,
Got me down,
Made my stomach churn,
Rendered me useless,
And mute,
And deaf to good sense,
And blind to other beauty,
Love that incapacitated me absolutely.
Yet I am nostalgic for that love,
The growing pains were worth it,
For it made me feel,
It sent me down into the depths,
It ripped me open and challenged who I was,
And most of all,
It gave me...
#love
#confusion
#nostalgia #bittersweet
#nostalgia #bittersweet
18 reads
0 Comments
MatthewConrad
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:14am
23rd Sep 2020 00:14am
angry prefix lady / roxette's joyride no better of "abba"
in ref. to parliREACH: my own revision of "standards" / a return to fully functioning descriptive attaches / cubism / no! to colour-blindness / poetry of whites / communism was good because mostly starving Ukrainians or Kazakhs or other "badziewie" / pressure to instigate overt-nuances of language: a necessary intro. of ciphers / alt.? scythe and stone for every hammer and sickle... ardently pro private property - my own personal library would shame the Romford public 'un... excuses? none: at "face-value"... literally... let's not bother with transcending the man the albino the homo similis -...
#nostalgia
20 reads
0 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
20th Sep 2020 9:44pm
20th Sep 2020 9:44pm
Synesthetica, Part IV (Oderatus)
iv. oderatus (smell)
olfactory odyssey
dusty pages
worn thin from
heavy thumbs,
ink archaic
traveling seductively
from introduction
to execution,
my limbic pathways
stretching -
lazy felines finding
cozy spots
in front of
plate-glass windows
faint traces
of worn leather
that swallowed
flourished script
beckoning,
transposing known
with the unknown;
storm clouds
parting to bring ...
olfactory odyssey
dusty pages
worn thin from
heavy thumbs,
ink archaic
traveling seductively
from introduction
to execution,
my limbic pathways
stretching -
lazy felines finding
cozy spots
in front of
plate-glass windows
faint traces
of worn leather
that swallowed
flourished script
beckoning,
transposing known
with the unknown;
storm clouds
parting to bring ...
#nature
#spiritual
#memories
#SelfReflection
#nostalgia
43 reads
14 Comments
DevilsChild
Poem Published
14th Sep 2020 7:51am
14th Sep 2020 7:51am
Dangerous Beginnings
pushing the pedal to the metal
driving to the end of a 80s music video
just us being young and sexy
the world belongs to our youth
princess dancing on top of the hood of my car
body so smooth
unlike my moves
still I enter your mind
where I find one hell of a ride
I love those devils in your hazel eyes
they can all come along
all the way to hell if we must
we can play our favorite songs
doing things we shouldn't
disappointing our parents
trying to hold on to what senses I have left
but I'm way too hooked ...
driving to the end of a 80s music video
just us being young and sexy
the world belongs to our youth
princess dancing on top of the hood of my car
body so smooth
unlike my moves
still I enter your mind
where I find one hell of a ride
I love those devils in your hazel eyes
they can all come along
all the way to hell if we must
we can play our favorite songs
doing things we shouldn't
disappointing our parents
trying to hold on to what senses I have left
but I'm way too hooked ...
#love
#nostalgia
61 reads
8 Comments
Baldwin
Poem Published
13th Sep 2020 9:01pm
13th Sep 2020 9:01pm
At Glastonbury
Beneath the Glastonbury sky
a king has lain
for Autumns out of time
and past remembering,
the appled earth his keep.
So will it be that buried breathless,
deep,
for all these years within the Isle of Glass,
that only this will come to pass:
He shall not ever wake,
he shall not ever make anew Jerusalem
upon our hills,
his sword a thing forever sleeping in
his hand
or rusted, dull beneath
the surface of a Lady’s lake?
Or is it this
if all the legends running there
along the ruined vaults...
a king has lain
for Autumns out of time
and past remembering,
the appled earth his keep.
So will it be that buried breathless,
deep,
for all these years within the Isle of Glass,
that only this will come to pass:
He shall not ever wake,
he shall not ever make anew Jerusalem
upon our hills,
his sword a thing forever sleeping in
his hand
or rusted, dull beneath
the surface of a Lady’s lake?
Or is it this
if all the legends running there
along the ruined vaults...
#nostalgia
17 reads
0 Comments
Joseph-Zenieh
Poem Published
12th Sep 2020 12:05pm
12th Sep 2020 12:05pm
A PART OF ME
A PART OF ME trochee
Past events, you came and went like yesterday,
but you left what l miss much and crave to see.
I was not so glad with all your past results,
but you are so dear and prized, a part of me.
I adore that person though he was so cruel.
Past events can blind themselves to all the harm
and invoke great love in me for acts and men,
Yielding what can bestow me the happy dream.
What is now but coming past of coming years?
Who are you, the man who spoils what l do now?
You will be so precious to my...
Past events, you came and went like yesterday,
but you left what l miss much and crave to see.
I was not so glad with all your past results,
but you are so dear and prized, a part of me.
I adore that person though he was so cruel.
Past events can blind themselves to all the harm
and invoke great love in me for acts and men,
Yielding what can bestow me the happy dream.
What is now but coming past of coming years?
Who are you, the man who spoils what l do now?
You will be so precious to my...
#nostalgia
35 reads
14 Comments
AaronBraveHeart
Poem Published
8th Sep 2020 10:34pm
8th Sep 2020 10:34pm
FALLING AUTUMN LEAVES
Autumn is here, with its reddish tint,
Falling leaves and blowing wind,
It came abruptly, overnight,
Revealed itself in all its might.
And now, the rain is pouring on the ground
With a rather dark and melancholic sound.
Thus, I decided to take a walk in the park,
For the florid glory of its autumn mark,
As I walked along, I saw a cloverleaf,
Which is famous for the old belief
That it brings a stoke of luck to whom
Picks it up and hides it in their room.
Why would I find it? Was it for an insight?
It really set up a sense of...
Falling leaves and blowing wind,
It came abruptly, overnight,
Revealed itself in all its might.
And now, the rain is pouring on the ground
With a rather dark and melancholic sound.
Thus, I decided to take a walk in the park,
For the florid glory of its autumn mark,
As I walked along, I saw a cloverleaf,
Which is famous for the old belief
That it brings a stoke of luck to whom
Picks it up and hides it in their room.
Why would I find it? Was it for an insight?
It really set up a sense of...
#courage
#inspirational
#fall
#nostalgia
#philosophical
39 reads
3 Comments
mysticstones
Poem Published
5th Sep 2020 5:51pm
5th Sep 2020 5:51pm
in the park
the fall of the silk
like glass
the dancer does skate
twist and twirls
as the toes do curl.
as upon a map
guided by every sign
each and every placement so by design.
tracing, the etching
the lines grooved into flowing curves
as if on air
the chill bumps move,
feel the hairs
excitement as much as a heart could bare.
the silk brushes once again,
a remembrance to when.
like glass
the dancer does skate
twist and twirls
as the toes do curl.
as upon a map
guided by every sign
each and every placement so by design.
tracing, the etching
the lines grooved into flowing curves
as if on air
the chill bumps move,
feel the hairs
excitement as much as a heart could bare.
the silk brushes once again,
a remembrance to when.
#winter
#night
#nostalgia
27 reads
2 Comments
Bluevelvete
Poem Published
5th Sep 2020 8:23am
5th Sep 2020 8:23am
Gag me with a spoon
I mean....like...rhyming?
Grodey
...... To the max.....
Like...seriously?!?
How do I even wanna?
Did it totally start with Madonna?
Omg, tubular...
As if?!
Like, Totally?!?
Totally.
Moon Unit Zappa was a muse ...
Grodey
...... To the max.....
Like...seriously?!?
How do I even wanna?
Did it totally start with Madonna?
Omg, tubular...
As if?!
Like, Totally?!?
Totally.
Moon Unit Zappa was a muse ...
#memories
#aging
#PopCulture #nostalgia
#PopCulture #nostalgia
95 reads
21 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2020 10:26pm
3rd Sep 2020 10:26pm
Queen?
long fingers
delicate in demeanor
ferocious in delivery
love and rage abiding
harmoniously, I dare say
splaying my short, pudgy hands
I compare them to hers,
watching
an intricate puppet-dance
only the well-practiced know
kneading and tossing
the melody this old kitchen sings
is solemn and heavy;
I ask her if I will make biscuits
thrice a day
for hungry men and rowdy boys
when I am grown,
and she laughs in such a way
that I’m not all that sure
she actually finds it funny
I...
delicate in demeanor
ferocious in delivery
love and rage abiding
harmoniously, I dare say
splaying my short, pudgy hands
I compare them to hers,
watching
an intricate puppet-dance
only the well-practiced know
kneading and tossing
the melody this old kitchen sings
is solemn and heavy;
I ask her if I will make biscuits
thrice a day
for hungry men and rowdy boys
when I am grown,
and she laughs in such a way
that I’m not all that sure
she actually finds it funny
I...
#family
#identity
#memories #nostalgia
#memories #nostalgia
88 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Nostalgia Poems
