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Natasha Tai Apr 2020
swish of sheets
and flurries of light,
cotton through fingers
a touch to wet ice.
pillows of white,
slow nights of sleet
call to mine conscience
fond memories to keep.
a tribute to my father, who sprinted out of the house worried when eleven-year old me laid motionless in the snow.
Vik Verse Aug 2019
Memory lane, boy, it’s a beautiful street
Lined with the trees of the times gone by
With cobbled stone just like the one in my grandmum’s porch
And scattered dried leaves for the times we cried

There is a distinct smell in the air
Just like the pickle in the jar that sat on that windowsill
The wind is warm like that tight embrace,
That helped heal me when I was ill

There are some flowers at a distance I see
They look happy, like the ones in my grandmum’s garden
There is that familiar holy basil too
That she plucked each morning for veneration

The lane fades away at a distance,
Dissolving into a mist of oblivion
The porcelain teacups and that pickle jar remain
But only till I am gone
I sat down by the tree in the center of the cul de sac
and I stared straight ahead for what seemed like days.
There was a brand new mailbox and front door,
but my ten year old handprint is still on the driveway.

My favorite dog, Louie, used to lay on that windowsill
and patiently wait for me to come back from school,
and behind that front window was the formal dining
room where my dad first taught me how to play pool.

Just behind that was the kitchen where Momma used to
make meat patties and gravy, her hands covered in flour,
and the upstairs middle window was where my sisters
and I used to argue over who was first in line to shower.

The upstairs window on the far right was where my
neighbor used to throw small rocks to get my attention.
Eight years later, that friend is now in a cemetery and I think
about him and his family more than I can even mention.

The memories of my entire childhood are embedded
into each brick of this two story house in Candlelight Hills
and knowing that my white picket fence past is now
nothing but distant fond memories gives me the chills.

These walls in front of me shaped me into who I am today
and as I sit here on the curb reminiscing on my own,
I know in my heart that no matter where I live
or how many years pass, this will always be my home.
Let's not go down memory lane
For we may not come back sober
But drunk with pain we caused each other
And things will be back to the first squre
Of the entire grid that we have crossed
Or rather somehow,just stumbled across
To stand in this square, together,once again.

Let's not fight,cause it felt nice
Talking to you once again tonight
All of a sudden I wish to hold you tight
And be the source and sink of each others strength
Dare to tell me you do not feel the same ?

Let's not be teens,for we were fools back then
You physical and me emotional
Maybe our grown up depression was meant
To bring us on the same page
But here on let us just be kids
Frolicking in the sun
Falling on the grass
Drinking the rain
And licking our hands
Tasting all the fun we ever had
Relishing those flavours once again!
Madison Sep 2018
I used to love

Walking down memory lane


My favorite roses

Began to wilt.


The softest petals

Have withered away

Only to scratch me

With their vicious thorns

Whenever I walk by.

Yes, it’s hard to love memory lane

When every rose in your garden

Has found a way

To die.
Change can hurt, even when it's for the better.
Kabelo Maverick Apr 2018
delinquent, juvenile
Sneaking with Old timers
I ride the back of the truck...

The frequence, a few miles…
Cheeky with Oppenheimer
I hide the back of my trunks

pops that question…
A Star called Scar??
My Pops’ Jazz collection
A smart old spark
Pops was that fashion
And his smart old car
David Acker Jr Mar 2018
Can we go where life met laughter. To when love had more value than fame. To how we used to respect those who came before us. And family extend far beyond the limits of your doorsteps. Can I get back to a gap toothed smile and fill em in puzzles. To puff bread and pecan candy. To walking my hanging with the homies at Dunbar. Who want to go back to walking from Oak St to Wakefield. Playing ball at Centennial Park, East end community center and MLK Elementary. Somehow I've wipped away a lot of my memory, however, I'll never forget my homies playing their makeshift drum set and me winking at their sister behind their back. Childhood crushes right. I have erased dates and events but the way you all have influenced me is engraved in me like the chiseled details on Donatello sculptures. I just want to go.....
Rob Sandman Feb 2018
Smokey rooms and idle banter,
across the fields of my mind still canter
girls in short skirts, January to December,
the embers flicker and flame as days remembered -D'ya remember?*

Teflon tough guys with hardened looks
fast friends by nights end-foundations shook
I hook fast to the Past-MAN WE HAD A BLAST!
bait my line and cast as the time streams pass

some cry alas as the nights grow dim,
me I'll always have my Total Recall to dip in,
conversations reach out to snag my arm,
No alarm as I'm mugged in memory lane, just charm

we were charming rascals with roguish eyes,
no fools as the street schooled on us no flies!,
So we thought til life taught us harder lessons,
as the Mask beneath the Mask reveals transgressions*

faithless lovers and fair weather friends,
left their mark on our lives as they came to the end,
of their briefer tenure amongst REAL mates,
at your back in the corner as you faced your fate....
Like it says on the tin....
Haych Jan 2015
After laying awake way past her bedtime
There where nights she cried herself to sleep,

Thinking how could she have possibly been so naive?

But as she closed her eyes and wanders down the streets of once-used-to-be's
She realises, she'd lost herself to a past of full of mistreatment
But now she refuses to be a victim of it and stands tall rising above it
There used to be a time she'd been used, and so to be used was all she knew
And to crave love, a sense of belongingness, was unthinkably selfish
So instead of finding love from within,
She'd give her all to all those who'd treat her like she didn't mean a thing
And apologised and forgave repeatedly though she was never to blame
She became a dreamer of dreams to cope with the painful reality of things

But now instead of living with wishful thinking
She wakes up and struggles hard to make her dreams into a reality
No longer a slave to her fictional fantasies
Lena Bitare Nov 2014
I got down
And see the street lights
The cars passing by
Stuck in the headlight

I've seen bestfriends become lovers
We've eaten their left overs
What's left with us,
Is the piece of junk way back past.

I've watch lovers love
Like I did before
I've watched them fall apart
I've felt their beating heart

Baby there's no ticket to the past
There's nothing you can do
We didn't make it last
Just throw your love to the past
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