War Is Never Over

War is never over
Thought the treaties may be signed
The memories of the battles
Are forever in our minds

War is never over
So when you welcome heroes home
Remember in their minds they hold
Memories known to them alone

I'll Hold You Close

Distant memories lost in time,
I close my eyes and think of you.
Memories of the way we were,
Glaze my eyes, like morning dew.

I hear your voice so clearly now,
A loving smile, lights up your face.
We walk together, hand in hand,
Then head for home, that special place.

Alabaster

LIKE this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.


Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.

My Love, I Am Crying For Your Love......

You said to me that you will be there on that day
but when that day came then you were not there for me
So much love showered and so many promises were made
but nothing worked on my way because you had gone
My love, I am crying for you because my love turned blue

The heaven stolen you from me and left the memories only
Though your soul vanished in the sky but my love never dies for you
I tell those angels how much I love you and care for you
and ask them to make your soul always happy till I come to you

. I Can'T Stop Loving Her! (Dark

Behind her doors, live a pool of joy.
Whiles smiles cover our face
A mist of confusion
Awaits at our gates
After days of gladness
The bitterness of love kicks in
Like hungry dogs we fight!
Spitting words that can break a heart!
Like branches we fall apart
Her memories torture my head

Baccalaureate

A year or two, and grey Euripides,
And Horace and a Lydia or so,
And Euclid and the brush of Angelo,
Darwin on man, Vergilius on bees,
The nose and Dialogues of Socrates,
Don Quixote, Hudibras and Trinculo,
How worlds are spawned and where the dead gods go,--
All shall be shard of broken memories.

And there shall linger other, magic things,--

Broken Dreams

THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake -- that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty -- for your sole sake

Memories

The week after the funeral the house was cleared
Memories taken to the auctioneers to be sold off,
The polished sideboard and dining room table,
The picture frames now empty of smiling faces.
Treasures collected and stored over fifty years.
Memories now fading, scattered to the four winds.
Only ghosts remain.

Now the house is empty and a for sale sign hangs
From the bedroom window as the cold winters chill

A Drowsy Afternoon

Mellow meadows, shimmering in summers heat,
dipping down the valley,
rolling down the steep
hillside.
What a delightful and pleasurable treat,
to sit and ponder,
and wander,
your feet deep amongst the wild flowers,
where drones the sweet bees,
collecting nectar, an endless toil,

My Flowery Youth

Youth is that fountain....which must one day dry
no matter how much one may try
youth does die
but in form of aging skin and balding hair
but the heart within remains youthful....till aging....is an age passed dream
youth remains within we still need only watering
what a youth we all have enjoyed....reading our past in your lovely verse
‘tis as if yesterday we were in youth... now 'tis worse... left in memories as in this youthful verse
let youth be the comma of our life..... not a coma where youthful memories die

A Life

a life is, , ,

a smile....
a tears....
and a memories....

the smile, will disappear...
the tears, will dry out...
but the memories still for ever....

My Picture-Callery

IN a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house,
It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other;
Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories?
Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death;
Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself,
With finger rais'd he points to the prodigal pictures.

' A Cardboard Box'

Crawled under the house to retrieve
something's that I had fogotten.
While I took them out, I sorted and found
that most of what I'd stored, was damp and rotten.

As I sorted through the memories I once knew
stuck together were photos of me and my brother.
As I pulled them apart, their memories rushed to my heart
past memories now a big part of all the others.

Morning Sea

Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile.
The brilliant blue of the morning sea, of the cloudless sky,
the yellow shore; all lovely,
all bathed in light.

Let me stand here. And let me pretend I see all this
(I really did see it for a minute when I first stopped)
and not my usual day-dreams here too,
my memories, those images of sensual pleasure.

Memories

Walking down the rough streets of life
I am truly all alone,
With hopes of new dreams turning true,
Olden days are long bygone.
Pieces of scattered, distressed remembrance
Still reflect in my bruised mind,
I wish they don't ever return
And want them to stay behind.
When you make my heart bleed,
It causes unbearable pain,

You Remain

As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me; all things leave me -
You remain.

Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,

Lovely Seashells

Lovely shaped seashells
That are cone and nautilus
On the wide seaside
Like pieces of memories
So vivid and heartwarming.


Copyright2018, Rose Marie Juan - Austin, All Rights Reserved


Back Roads Of My Mind

Your memories fill each waking hour
You face fills each and every thought
Of the times we had together
That surface from the back roads of my mind

I remember the fields of bluebells
Where we used to walk hand in hand
The trees we used to lean upon
While we rested for a while

Rain Has Fallen All The Day

Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories.

Staying a little by the way
Of memories shall we depart.
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart.

Evening Nostalgia

In the falling dusk
the heartbeat of memories
sounds above the panting breath
of invading silence
and loud are the footsteps of time
that once was
but will never be again.