poems about the past

A Walk through Time | Rajnish Mishra - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

A Walk through Time | Rajnish Mishra

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A walk in this house newly rented,
Steps sure, eyes closed.
A walk in that house in my past
Old rooms, old stairs; corridors.
Old house that was home.
Old house, that is home.
This walk assured and this closure
Efface, betray that walk,
Old house, its stairs and rooms.
Betray, in a way, my city, my home, my heart.
I turn to my left or right,
Go forth or back, from mazes emerge,
As once I emerged,
From lanes-labyrinths, of my city, my home.
Live I now split in two:
In a now and a then.
Constancy and change, take turns,
They play with me, on me.
Pangs surely I feel for what I forgot, erased:
My places old, home and lanes.
Can’t bring them to life, eyes closed.
My city, my home, a memory, a phantom.
My past betrayed by present, mine own,
Or nature of man or time, or change.

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Merry Memory | Marjon van Bruggen - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Merry Memory | Marjon van Bruggen

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Quote from Oscar Wilde’s ‘An Ideal Husband’
“How many men there are in modern life who would like to see their past turning to white ashes before them?”
We used to discuss those things
quite seriously.
I remember this one in particular
because:
A whimsical touch
swallow wing flash
on waters of eloquence
the tone changed
rippled with laughter
delighted and bubbling
with uncontrolled merriment.
So sad to say
those moments are part of a happy past
I long for them, but they are too far gone.
He became such a different man.

Let's Take the Long Way Back | David Sermersheim - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Let's Take the Long Way Back | David Sermersheim

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let’s take the long way back
beneath shaded oak and aromatic pine
athwart the weathered split-rail fence
bent into the warp and woof of nature’s wiles
past the old place
with its long front porch
and massive beams holding memories
of laughter and dancing feet
in moonlit rooms resonating with sounds of
family and friends fading now
as we roll past the giant willow
bending shade into the shape of long afternoons
drawing water from the well
with the fresh coppery taste
so light and cool on a summer afternoon
we glide into the blue-amber glow
of the western penumbra spread long and wide
with faint lights glimmering in the valley below
melding light and shadow into night
as we drift on wheels crunching gravel
like popcorn between our teeth
the hour is right in its time
and all that might have been
trailed behind and lost the way
back to what we remember
of days that are no more

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