memory

MEMORY

From the first time I laid eyes on them I’ve loved the paintings of Monet.

I love the subjects, love the impressions and the way the colors interplay.

 

I’ve also loved da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, I like to linger with her awhile

And enjoy the details of that landscape and the elusiveness of her smile.

 

I think memory is like these paintings for when a moment does unveil

It’s brushed upon our mind’s canvas, like a da Vinci, in detail.

 

Yet over time our memories seems to blend a little everyday

Until, when we grow older, we remember in Monet.

 

The last three days I’ve dipped into my memory, it felt great to be among

The memories of our children when life was simpler and they were young.

 

But as I discussed these poems with Deborah, although she didn’t want to berate

She informed me my memory was lacking...that I didn’t have my facts straight.

 

What building were Bryan and I in at Florida State? My memory is insecure.

Did we drink Gatorade, I think it was Gatorade but I do not know for sure.

 

Was Rit dye the kind that Ali used?  At one time I’m sure I knew.

And was it Ali or her friend Chrissy whose hair was colored blue?

 

Was it Ryan’s baseball card or hot wheels collection... Hmmm toy cars or baseball stats,

You think I would remember a small detail like that!

 

Luckily with Deborah’s help, like two birds of a feather

We sorted through our memories and pieced the facts together.

 

Initially I remembered those moments as they did first appear

But slowly as time intervened the details became less clear.

 

As I look back I shouldn’t be surprised at how these memories converge

Why da Vinci memories tend to fade and Monet’s tend to emerge.

 

Perhaps the moments of our life are meant, as we live our days,

To dissolve into an impression, to fade into a haze.

 

Perhaps it is this blending that makes these memories last

And we are left to find small details in our impressions of the past.

 

Perhaps we are meant to look back and smile at the impressions that we see

 

For is that not the nature of art...and the beauty of memory.

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Asshole Smite

Sad smiles and long nights,

No more calls, no more fights.

Walked out the door and turned off the lights.

Sit in silence and recall your bites--

I'm never right.

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Growing Up

Reminiscing about the past,

How it tends to last,

The memories of our days,

Spent living them away.

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apprehensive

comfortably nestled in between two rocks 

 

above the stillness overlooking the small village

 

flattened black tar rooftops

 

steep cobblestone paved streets

 

winding around the southern tip of the mountain

 

a bicycle ride away

 

too far to touch the bitter memories

 

my gaze is locked into a numbing trance

 

time stands still

 

 

12:49 AM 7/6/2013 ©

 

 

...........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

apprehension

Photograph

dry and parched, the love we had,

 

deep in my memory,

 

i wander through mirages,

 

like this photo of you and me,

 

and though it's badly weathered ,

 

donned with cracks, it's fading shade,

 

the sweetness lingers deep within,

 

about the love we made,

 

my fist is clenched, the beads of sweat,

 

fragmented, splintered glass,

 

forever leaving one concern,

 

"Why can't i throw it in the trash?"

 

 

 

 

1:37 AM 6/23/2013  ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

old useless photos. 

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barren woman

Folder: 
Observations...

She looks across the plains of memory

Tumbleweeds roll down barren streets

Her own thoughts have degraded

A deep sadness fills her belly

The longing persists...

It never died

She lied

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Memory

Folder: 
2013

I cannot remember a time when my youth was untouched by the waves of reality.

I cannot recall ever playing in the sand building monuments of splendor.

But most of all, I do not remember any kiss on the forehead or bedtime story.

Although there are somethings I do remember, I remember them everyday.

I remember my mother being torn from my grasp and I cannot convey my agony.

I remember my father murdering my childhood joys.

There is one last thing I cannot remember. Perhaps it has yet to happen.

Or perhaps it is within me now.

 

 

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Annie - July 19, 2012

Kept until the age moving is a chore,

you just want to be free again.

Everyday you give but a bit more,

umtil you can no longer refrain.

 

Behavioral changes can be observed,

and inferred the end's coming.

Controversy is to or not to end her,

but in both, deaths call is humming.

 

You've been withered by old age,

your fur more fragile with each breath.

Refused to turn to a new days page,

you deny life, end in watery death.

 

After the end, you're burnt to utter black,

your death sentence now cracked, shatters.

Shoved in a box, dignity you hopelessly lack;

now nothings's left, and now nothing matters.

 

Gone from this world, and never coming back,

but in my mind sits the vivid memory.

Of the one who I miss everyday and night,

my long gone, dead dog, my poor little Annie.

 

Dandelion Flurries

love unspoken, grows in deed,
inspires hope for all in need,
days and weeks,
they muddle through
the cracks
of time's substinance.

 

unheard lament
taps stealthily on the door
with discontent,
a memory lingering,
the crevices open
only to see the words unspoken.

 

bitterness cloaked
in a weak array
of what seems to be
endless decay,
a life missed, a goodbye kiss
never given, just thrown away.

 

cool breeze touches skin,
reaching down,
plucked a dandelion flurry,
love is like the wispy sound,
take a breath and blow it out,
bye bye flurries, erase the pout.

 

life, it can sweep you up in hurry,
when it leaves...sometimes there's worry.
it is hardly like nature
to feel love like this,
there must be something
that was missed.

 

5:24 PM 4/22/2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

sometimes we have to say goodbye to love. if it hurts too much, it isn't love, but something else inside that feeds the pain within us. when it is loss from death, we mourn, but love should live on and eventually conquer the pain of the loss. if it lingers to violently and causes havoc in our lives, always seek the answers within to find out what was missed. pick up the pieces, start again. eventually love will give the grace and wisdom to see things through for the best and the greater good of all.

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