I’ve written about you so many times.
Sometimes you’re a bee,
sometimes the sea.
Every now and again…you’re a tree.
But let’s face it, you’re just a woman in reality.
Why do I invest so much of my time representing you with imagery?
What does that tell myself about me?
I lived in a bungalow when I was 23.
I loved that house,
five strides to the bathroom from bed,
nine strides to the kettle.
I wanted to live there forever.
Maybe it would help if I wrote one more story,
as mundane as can be,
a gritty reality of you and me.
But how can I do that,
when my memory has become a fantasy.
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Author:
Brimelow (
Offline) - Published: March 4th, 2021 14:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, dusk arising, Eugene S.
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Comments6
Good read, B.
'Why do I invest so much of my time representing you with imagery?
What does that tell myself about me?'..
Brilliant!
Classic. Excellent imagery. Contains well the frustration of loss and contemplation of reminiscence.
That opening verse resounded within me. Brought forth the realisation of my own motivation. Therefore it belongs in my favourites.
“I lived in a bungalow when I was 23.
I loved that house,
five strides to the bathroom from bed,
nine strides to the kettle.
I wanted to live there forever”
I connect to this so much! I myself can similarly vision running up the stairs of my childhood home. It’s Ingrained in my mind forever.
I'm smiling right now. One of the most awesome poems I've read!
Thank you for the lovely comments everybody! Sometimes it takes me literal days to write something, but this was a rare occasion where it just burst out in 5 minutes - probably because the subject matter has been in my head for years and just needed the right time to spill out.
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