I sit on my back porch and hear
those lonesome cooing doves.
Sweet memories ever flood my mind
of long lost dreams and loves.
Country born and country reared,
I walked those cedared hills.
With moon as guide, I oft would hear
those hooting owls and whippor-wills.
Our home was plain and simple,
it had no modern frills.
It was a haven for us all.
set amid those pleasant hills.
In the meadows were the pastures,
where the cows were gently lowing;
Where the butterflies were wafting
and the thick wildflowers growing.
We laboured hard and steady,
with survival as our goal.
Yet, we felt a deep contentment,
'midst the heart of natures soul.
Nostalgia grips us all at times,
these were my youthful loves;
Perhaps, some day I shall return-
Do you hear those cooing doves?
Very beautiful Joseph, I think as we get older we try to recapture those days of our youth when life seemed so full of promise. So well written as always, great rhyming.
Superb. I suddenly feel very melancholy, and yet with a sensation of warmth that seems to say: blessed is anyone who can relate to such as this; and I surely do Joseph, I surely do. This is the same feeling I got oh so many years ago when I read the book Old Yeller for the first time. Amazing isn't it what words can do, and where they are able to lead the heart. Awesome (and I don't say that lightly) poem my friend.
Love it, sometimes when we think back the old days seem like the best days. A fantastic poem.
I LOVE this poem and thoughts about growing up and 'the values.....of simplicity and family.' Beautifully done, and lets my mind wander, to a place I once known, of both sunshine and thunder...a place I call home. Thank you for the much loved recall.
Its good to develop but w should remember our roots at the same time................... Such closeness to nature can't be experienced in cities with sky-kissing towers and minarets.............. This beautiful rhyme of yours creates a vivid imagery and picture of our recent past, when we rested in nature's laps....................kudos
A lovely poem Joseph. Put me in mind of that TV show, The Waltons.
Good old time memories is our connections to the past. If we can't reach back and grab them we are by most means lost. You took me back to some of it Joseph. Wildflowers, butterflies doves. So many sights, aromas and sounds. A great treat!
Aw Joe. You're right on the button again. No matter how well anyone can write a poem, no matter how well the rhyme schemes fit and the rhythm rolls along, there has to be that special something that lifts the words from the page and hits us right in the cardiac region. It's a heart searching spiritual thing, and that's what makes this poem more than a bit special. (Coming down to earth with a bump, as we don't want to start wringing out handkerchiefs, I recently met one of those beautiful young ladies I yearned and lusted after all of those years ago. I wish I hadn't. She had varicose veins and a whisky hued nose) The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on. Nor all your piety and wit can call it back to cancel half a line Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. (The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How this poem clings close to my heart.... I too had my ancestral home in such a verdant setting.... I too used to go after the call of every bird as a child! I can hear the cooing doves sir! Just lovely! Thanks for your great comment on my poem Eagle on Wings!