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Farah Taskin Oct 2021
The souvenirs
beckon
nostalgia
I wistfully hark
back
to  the blue mountains
the blue moon
the cinematic
landscape
the coastline
the dense
wilderness
and so on
The obsession
hasn't
been
lost
yet
Sombro Oct 2021
The bright moments of the past do not die
They do not lie idly in the earth, buried beneath unpassable tombs
Their beauty does not fester or languish
Their times come again

They are reborn, are the bright things that come
Those jewels dug up by autonomous spades
They do not die, they are reborn
Our excitement like an old friend reunited

Do not mourn the past, it did not fall
Left to rot, mummified in worms
As a child when we picked it up, as an adult when we carry it
Those moments live on with us

Again
I was walking about old haunts and thinking of all the memories made within them. I felt really melancholy that those moments had gone and would never come again. Then I realised that those moments are not gone, not dead, but rather are carried within us. I passed a dark hole in the woods I had found as a kid and had felt sure that it was full of fairies and gnomes. I realised that I still feel that now every time I discover holes in the woods that seem dark and mysterious, and feel that same excitement from my youth. What we picked up as children, we carry as adults, the past does not die, but lives with us.
Some days I see myself outbound like an 80's movie...
living life day by day, wondering what lays ahead of the play.
I love life, because of the good and bad, but off course, bad things can't cut it, but we have to get what's bad to get the greater things in life.

No, no silly, i' am not talking about politics, or the crap happening right now...but the adventures in our personal lives that we go through every single day.

Being with you tonight was like two fishes who swam together in lovers hearts, synchronized in nostalgia.
When we lock eyes, emotions spur into greatness.

You held my hand as we walked underneath the starry night, so quiet and dark, playing hide and seek around the truck parked in the front yard, and as i looked back at you, we swung a hug in each other's warm arms along with a never forgotten kiss.

Your kisses, one by one, are always cherished and never forgotten...also when you're leaving to go home, i take a photograph of your lips in my mind, how they feel pressed against mine.

As I walk underneath the pear tree nd lights flashing underneath from the garden below shining unto my minty laced robe of satin, catching your eyes once again on mine in a new pictured memoir.

I love nostalgia, who doesn't?
it helps you feel like you belong...
when no one else is there to help sing your song.

I have been a day dreamer since a youngling, and will always
continue to do so throughout my living days.
happiness comes through dreams,
and when you believe in those dreams
you can really see
your true
reality.
365
There's 365 days out of the year and we multiply,
Multiply 365 by your age and you'll know how many days you've lived, you've survived, the time we spent through good and bad times...as all our memories begin to surface our minds.
365 days makes 8,030 days I've walked this earth,
Don't waste your time, for time is precious,
make every day worth it like it's your last,
because tomorrow comes and it may not
be promised.
Age don't matter, but the actions we take does, so make it count and really do, "make it count"....
365
Michael Jun 2021
I just hate bein a goomba, if you couldn't tell.
I get stepped on all the time and hit by koopa shells!
Bowser's always yellin at me and telling me to go,
but he can't even stop that Super Mario!

King Koopa's laughin high up in his tower,
as he's pointin down at me.
Here they come with Fire Power!
Super Mario and Luigi!

I could'a been a man eater,
or even a koopa troopa.
Might'a  been a bottom sea feeder.
I just hate bein a goomba.
Johnnyqu33r Jun 2021
Swift punt to the soda pop tin
Littering the low lit path before me
Flash back to kick the can
And hopscotch jumping rope
To wittled cans from which to smoke
And losing family to knotted rope

Years pile on tense shoulders
Bearing zirconium smiling teeth
Finding diamonds in my grief
But always pacing forward

To flash back on bronze days
Glowing like bonfire embers
Finishing the last of the thirty rack
Never realizing I was drowning
Just sad and aloof and smiling
Smoking bad **** from a PBR can
Siddhant Apr 2021
I'm gonna miss these window panes,
and these windy lanes,
When I leave these streets.
But I'll never miss these slippery tiles,
'cause I always slipped on these.
I wouldn't pass on my house and its keys,
If it were me.

This will change my links of life,
the way I live and the way I die.
I don't want to leave, this sheltered sheath,
and this, this is my only greed.
All my friends will be left behind,
and the new rooms will not smell like.
I wish we could rest, in our worn-out nest,
and this, this is my only need.
Ming Mar 2021
My shoes **** as I trudge down a seamlessly cemented road. The floor, only slightly lighter than the colour Black. Launching into the wide road where the sky more daringly shows itself, the sun, too, exhibits its colour hue. I can see the reflection of orange in you. The sound of cars are not evident but they exist. The traffic light goes green and the rhythm of its beeping escalates in what seems like less than its promised seconds. 5 steps into the humble gantry I have reached Yomiuriland Station. I buy my morning beverage for 100¥. I think of nothing in that repeated moment while fixing my eyes on the orange-reflected clock.
How I remember Tokyo's Yomiuriland Station
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