Memory’s lightning flash
fleetingly illuminates
forgotten traces of the past
The fragrance of lilacs
a shaded mountain yard
forest covered steep cliff rocks
where sentinel pines stand guard
a small wooden mining house weathered white
father’s large rough hand his gentle might
soft covers in a velvet night
dreams of mermaids and of flight
the spring warbling of meadowlarks
fireflies, floating yellow sparks
a Sunday school song
church sermons that went on too long
endless hot rides in an old black car
gathering humming moths in a Mason jar
Sunday night tag with cousins 'round barn and trees
burying ourselves in mountains of dried maple leaves
a Victorian farmhouse with shingled roof
two stories high or more
cellar, library of religious proof,
attic, dusty memorabilia to explore
an old tire swing, high in the limb of a giant oak
muffled laughter’s ring as aunts, uncles, and grandparents spoke
a cast iron stove, the orange glow and popping of a coal fire
a pendulum clock, leather sofa, high ceilings, porch chairs woven of wire
a cardboard sword too soon bent
on a train trip with grandparents sent
mother handing me her last cent
as my lonely dog outside pent
grew old without human touch
figurines of glass gathered dust in mother’s hutch
fishing from frost covered seats of a small flat bottomed wooden boat
on a fall fog covered lake with weather too cold for one’s coat
quiet white winter blankets of snow
turned to forts and snowmen, some for war, some for show
sleigh rides, slides, noses too cold to feel
the smell of a warm home cooked meal
clear skies, stars so bright
the frozen stinging bite, of a frigid endless night
the snows swirling whirlwind of dust
the crunching of its crust
daffodils poking up through the ice
shedding my shirt at the sun’s advice
a yearning for summer’s sultry weather
cherry blossoms, peach and rose buds together
showing their first hint of green
robins the hum of bees, the thrill of spring
eating ripe apricots in a tree house with a friend
the summer breeze rocking the ship as boughs bend
over schools of grasshoppers swimming in wavy seas of dried fox tails
as we fired our cannon pits under the rustle of vast leafy sails
the whirling, gushing roar of an ice cold mountain creek
amidst the white bark of quaking aspen, tall pines, and glacial peak
the sudden pull of a fish on the line
canyon cookout, hamburgers, watermelon, my first taste of wine
a long past, warm summer night
the chirp of crickets stars so bright
the perfume of magnolia and scent of jasmine
the intoxicating thrill of first love forbidden
a future that looked so bright
with one that was so perfect, the first fight
awakening before the sun
for work one wished was already done
sweat, dirt, fatigue and fears
long hours, my child’s first tears
so many moves over the years
school finished, jobs lost, new careers
traveling to a new land
walking the tropical beaches warm sand
children's laughter, balls and dolls
now an empty house where no one calls
their forms grown and gone
no more toys on the fresh cut lawn
at each other we just stare
the weather’s changed, a chill in the air
an eternal love faded, broken heated
what was most important now departed
friends and relatives where did they go?
fallen like dry leafs, under the snow
framed pictures of faces frozen in time
they no longer feel real
another place another clime,
never religious now I kneel
wrinkles, sagging skin,
falling hair, a double chin
my father’s face appears in my mirror
what I once feared now grows nearer
the snows of age in my hair today
cold dark skies
so tired, sleep pulling at my eyes
to nap and let all this pass away
- Author: sorenbarrett ( Online)
- Published: August 20th, 2023 05:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: jarcher54, Bella Shepard, L. B. Mek
Comments3
Breathtaking and lovely in its modesty and packed with allusions that trigger the reader's imagination and memory. Very little commentary, just the flow of the narrative and the universal humanity and vulnerability shared at the end. Wonderful!
Thank you Jarcher I most humbly appreciate your most gracious words they are deeply appreciated.
I murmured these words as I read the beautifully flowing lines, and they touched me so profoundly. Sweet, enduring memories that are etched indelibly on the heart. You made my day, thank you!
Thank you Bella for your most welcome review and most kind words. So glad that it made your day.
'a small wooden mining house weathered white'
'my father’s face appears in my mirror
what I once feared now grows nearer
the snows of age in my hair today'
genuine tears in my eyes
I am a witness to your bravery, dear Poet
this is my favourite of all your brilliant poems, cherished friend
thank you! stay strong
''The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.''
Robert Frost
Since I began to read your poems L.B. they have touched me and some have left me in awe while others have changed the way I look at things. I have looked to you as a mentor in poetry and I bow to your knowledge of the greats. I thank you for your encouragement that often makes my day.
right back at you oh humble poet
I too, read and drink from your wisdom's ink
onwards then
to that next blank canvas, my friend
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.