Sometimes I dream of houses that I've lived in.
Like unfinished thoughts they shift
In and out of focus.
Sometimes one, then another.
How my mind will change them
Is always a surprise.
As if they're made from plastic bricks
They're broken up and rebuilt on the fly.
Appearing like a fact.
Accepted as a memory.
Pushed together and reshaped like putty.
But when I'm standing in them, they're solid.
In the backyard of one grows the garden of another.
A staircase that wasn't there before
Pulled from our house in Schenectady
Becomes part of our house in Poughkeepsie.
Where it seems completely natural.
Why didn't we think of that before?
Now owned by other people.
What have they done to it?
And could we have it back?
Now that we have the money,
We could really do it right.
But why would I want to go backward?
Is nostalgia a part of my dream?
To go back to the places I so desperately wanted to leave
Doesn't make much sense to me.
As if I'm second guessing myself,
At this late date…
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Author:
PerditaRose (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2025 01:21
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments4
This phenomena set in analogy is well treated in this poem. Memory itself fragile and malleable changes with time and perspective. Remember my grandfather's house that I had not seen since I was small and how my memory of it was much larger with higher ceilings that it is now. I grew it shrunk. But here is where the poem moves from analogy and perspective to metaphor. The whole idea of returning to memories and living in the past, of twisting it and molding it to fit todays needs is ingenious. It is exactly what we do and it pacifies us, protects us, angers and frustrates us. A deem psychological dive in this poem and a fave.
Soren,
I reread your comments today and I'm just grateful that you would offer such a thoughtful analysis. You really did understand what I was trying to do, even though I could not have used your words to describe it. I know my writing isn't very consistent, but your encouraging words are always wonderful.
If I can be even a spark to encourage the flame of talent then I will feel warmed
Lovely walk down memory lane and how are memory changes over time. I like "how they shift in and out of focus."
Well written.Thaks for sharing.
Soren and Katie -Thank you to both of you for your kind comments. They are like a balm that smooths the edges of the day.
Omg, I just googled my phrase and found out about balm and found there really such a thing used for hair styling. That was not my intended reference. I do apologize. I find it difficult to come up with phrases that have not been used by others. I have started using Google in hopes of avoiding this. Not so this time, unfortunately.
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