Memories that never fade

If that is a true tale - it is sad.

I’ve always wondered about poetry, what’s all the hue and cry?
So I’m putting pen to paper, and thought I’d give a try   
after reading all the other efforts, dam fine writings there 
I'm sat here a little numb as to why my papers bare?                                                        
                                                                       
Now all these other poems, most of which are written well,            
 Still leave my mind quite empty, I’m finding writing hell….          
If Davo and Cat and Sags and all, can write such lovely prose,     
 Why do I find it difficult to rhyme a word with rose?                    
                               
Perhaps I need a theme to run, from first word to the last,            
A story of some hero, his future and his past?                                 
Or maybe write of love and things, of beauty and the beast,           
Or life and death and ugliness, some important thing at least?      
 
Shall I mention birds and bees? Nature and the such,                     
Or will readers find it boring, its content far too much?                 
I think I’ll leave it simple, make it easy to enjoy,                               
not complicated nor difficult, nothing to annoy!                              
 
Now I have an idea, something I can write,                                       
my mind has started racing, I’ve found my inner sight,                  
The words they are a-churning, running through my mind,          
tumbling and a-falling, lining up real kind,                                      
 
As I lay them down as script, crisp and clear and neat,                      
 What a job, nicely done, quite an amazing feat!                               
But when I read the whole thing through, checking words and rhyme, 
I realize its rubbish, a huge literary crime,                                           
 
Perhaps this thing is not for me, being a poetic bard,                         
I find the art of writing, far too bloody hard,                                       
So I’ll stick with what I know and love and leave it to the rest,           
To hard for me, too difficult, I’m not up to the test!    


Copyright ... Me                        

Dizzy wrote:

If that is a true tale - it is sad.

it is true dizzy you have a very perceptive mind!

davo wrote:

I thought I heard you whisper me one day
How is my former lover by the way?
Do you still recall that captured smile?
That spoke a thousand meanings for a while

Do you remember when we didn't have a care?
Would walk through rain and laughter share?
Would find those moments in between
Where wasted times just grey and mean?

How are you now my greying, long lost friend?
I often think of you when eve descends
You were my life, my all back then
How did we part, how did it end?

It's hard sometimes to think you're still around
Across some ocean but can't be found
But I still have the book of memories close
They still remind me of your loving ghost!
© davo

...........................Sad, but beautiful words, davo.  :;smile:

The Beast wrote:

To hard for me, too difficult, I’m not up to the test!    

...................    You certainly are, well done!

Bleedin Hearts
 
She slipped as softly as a cloud
into my life where there she vowed,
Beguiled, besotted, fell deep in love,
she handed me a snow white dove,
Brought with her love and passion,
She loved and left showed no compassion,
I stood alone, forlorn and lost;
I’d stand bereft and count the cost,
My heart torn, ripped asunder
as my love she came to plunder,
Weaved her tales of passion shared,
sweet lies of dreams quite not compared,
Like a gossamer thread;
A spider’s web;
She spun her thoughts deep in my head,
My life it turned, my family spurned,
All my friends had lessons learned,
I told her that I’d cry for her,
Lay down my life, I’d die for her,
For this I did as she walked away,
sweet lies of dreams, oh they would stay,

With me for ever and a day.


Copyright me.

What tender words you gentlemen are expressing.  

They are very touching.  

There is a lot of talent on this forum now 

(Memories of my youth.)

Little Gentleman

We mustn’t blow our nose, you know
In public it’s not nice.
We mustn’t take a sweetie, till
The giver asks us twice.
We mustn’t say a naughty word,
We mustn’t do a thing.
One never knows when one may meet
A Duke, an Earl, a King.
We must be good and always be
Alert for social graces,
What would a titled lady think
If we had dirty faces?
When we grow up to be a man,
We’ll know how we should act,
A perfect little gentleman
With manners, dear, and tact.

still in a valentine sort of mood?


I chanced upon her on a greying autumn day
She smiled just briefly, then pressed on; was I just in the way?
I thought there was a flicker there, a glance that stayed just longer
And as our paths crossed more that year that flickering glance grew stronger

I'm not sure when we crossed that line that said this is forbidden
But by then the die had been cast down our passions wildly driven
We grasped at every moment like it was the last on earth
We laughed and cried and held onto that love for all its worth

I guess we knew that we were heading for a cliff top like decision
That would test us to the very core, cloud even loves clear vision
We skirted round that fatal day, Still talked about tomorrows
Said we would work it out somehow despite surrounding sorrows

We went our separate ways again promising not for ever
We phoned, we wrote and tried to meet but the demons were too clever
With broken hearts and heavy steps we trudged our separate paths
As as the time grew longer, our souls were all but trashed

I guess it finished on a 'high' of love and pain and longing
You get on with your life and find some more belonging
We wrote much later in the years and reminisced like lovers
We thought the painting would not dry but the laquer; tears had covered

As I look back on all my paths ours was the brightest moment
Just for a while time did stand still and give us joys enthronement
I think I met an angel then sent down to test and steal me
And whisper "love that can't be shared is counterfeit believe me"

© davo

I just love it, love it!

So tender, so loving, yet so sad.      

I wrote this several years ago for my great Grandfather who was in Northern France in 1916.


Loathing war
 
My Granddad went to war one day, 
in some green fields far away,
He came back after four long years, 
from where he wouldn’t say,
He left a tall and and brave young man;
 but returned a different soul,
What that time it took from him, 
it didn’t leave him whole.
 
When asked about his works and deeds, 
his answers they were none,
He only whispered faintly, 
he was told to carry a gun,
That’s all he said about his time;
 in that far and foreign land,
He’d look me straight in the eye,
 as he gently took my hand.
 
He’d say.....
 
When all is said and done and the battlefields are cold,
When all the tales of heroism and bravery are told,
When all the medals are handed out and citations given to
The only ones who are ever left of the many and the few,
The green fields of that foreign land are filled with souls of the  dead,
Fight for us, your country too, the leaders they had said.
 
Tell that to my Granddad as he tries to go to sleep,
Tell that to the millions that were slaughtered just like sheep,
My Granddad goes to bed at nights and cries his heart away,
This is what his debt is, it’s what he has to pay.....
 
War it is necessary, or so the politicians say,
 I don’t believe a word of it, it’s time for them to pay,
If not for me for Grandad, so he won’t have to weep,

For hours every time at night before he can get some sleep.


Copyright me.

So much fact and truth in those words...