Sunday School Afternoons
Don’t you think it’s funny
how we each cling
to certain familiar things ..
The sweet scent
of old saw mills in forests
and the subtle hit
of wildflower and cottage
gardens on the way
to nowhere in particular ..
Except for maybe,
a surprise roadside picnic
with the folks
and grandparents on those
amazing carefree
and always sunny Sunday
afternoons that we
once used to love so much
before the return
journey homeward bound
in Dads old green van ..
Not to mention
the sound of all those clear
freshwater rivers
where the grayling could be
found and spawned,
year after year and the crazy
idea every single thing
would sooner or later be perfect ..
-
Author:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: January 19th, 2025 04:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Bella Shepard, Tristan Robert Lange, Cassie58
Offline)
Comments10
This poem captured the nostalgia of the past put in the perspective of the present. The imagry brought the poem to life stimulating those archetypal memories long burried and opened the oven door to the aroma of the past. Lovely Neville
Now you come to mention it .. it was probably the smell of freshly baking bread wafting up that made me think back on such days .. Ta sorenbarrett & muchly ..
We had those too and the Sunday School had a bottle green Urvan (Nissan) for the pick up’s and drop offs.
Amazing wot just a few words can do isn't it .. Green was really in, back in the day wasn't it .. Cheers arqios .. Neville
Lol, I think it was to break away from the beiges and browns that were also prevalent for a time!
Ah me! I swoon, I swoon! My la, how almost recklessly rendered seemingly with that carefree sense of such waltzing hours imbued, imagery to die for tricking out every single line whilst its inherent poignancy holds us so securely I must, perforce, swoon. I love it, I love it! Thank you very much for sharing.
You may very well swoon Missy but just remember Orchidee has the monopoly on swooning around these here parts .. Might I suggest a gentle feigned faint & I would be there like a shot to catch and to lower thee .. Neville
*smelling salts, quick! [she faints into his happy arms]*
I find that as life progresses, and as the brain becomes less cluttered with the hustle and bustle of life, wonderful memories are triggered by the senses and allowed to run free. Your stroll down memory lane is bursting with the simple pleasures and sensations of life that you treasure. Lucky you my friend, it is why your poetry is so rich in texture. Beautiful!
Thank you so much Bella .. your visits are always appreciated .. Neville
Good write N.
Write good then O .. N
Tremendous work, my friend.
Then all is well, cheers Thomas .. Neville
Sunday School was a staple in my life. My mom was a Sunday School teacher. Truthfully, I LOVED Sunday School. I guess it is a good thing because I was going regardless! 🤣This poem brought up many good memories, including sneaking into the choir room during fellowship to play on the piano. Good memories. Thank you for bringing them up for me, my friend. Well done! 🌹👏
Glad to be of service and thanks for tagging along my friend .. Neville
You’re welcome!
Ahh the lure and peace of Sundays. Picnics especially. "Carefree" covers it. Nice.
Thanks for the nod and the thumbs up Dan .. Neville
Such wonderful memories Neville.
Andy
Thanks, I think so too .. Neville
Nice Carefree Nostalgia Neville
You got it .. Cheers Reynaldo .. Neville
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