#memories

Bucket Wish List

Folder: 
All and nothing



You need to 

get yourself a bucket,

or so I'm told,

Fill it, Fill it, till it overflows.

 

A wish list.

Of all to see

and all to do

before my lust is lost

for this husk of dust,

 

ONLY...

 

I've climbed many mountains,

and sat under a few fig trees,

The sky was coolsome blue,

the grass as lush as ever...

 

So my bucket hangs empty,

my head instead

carrying a memory,

that can't be bought,

or chased, or caught,

 

A dying gasp won't be wasted

on all to see

and all to do,

what is past is passed.

 

So here's to a bucket wish list

just take my bucket

and f**k it far from me.

OLD SHOES

For 30 years we’ve been coming to the mountains…to our cabin in the trees

where we listen to its serenade and catch the morning breeze…

 

But it’s not just a vacation cabin…for Deborah’s parent’s sake we try to renew it…

If there’s something that needs to be done around here…then happily…we do it.

 

I was working in the yard today…getting the cabin ready as summer nears

When I realized as I looked down at my feet

I’ve been wearing these same shoes for 30 years.

 

For 30 years around this cabin on every job that I complete

these shoes have been the only shoes…I’ve worn upon my feet.

 

They go everywhere around the yard…they’ve seen dirt and mud and ice

They’ve even helped me escape the yellow jackets…that only stung me twice.

 

They’ve been on little walks and hikes…in them I’ve laughed and cried

They’ve been on my feet for many campfires…and the day our Whitman died.

 

For 30 years we’ve been coming to the cabin….with still so much to see and learn

I’m glad these old shoes are here each year…waiting for my return….

 

You find as you grow older you experience something strange

Your head doesn’t feel any different but your body starts to change..

 

Your skin begins to wrinkle, your vision becomes unclear

Your nose flattens out…enlarges…and don’t get me started on my ears….

But every summer I slip on these same shoes…and as their friendship I reclaim…

I realize no matter how old the rest of my body gets…my feet remain the same…

 

Perhaps it’s natures way of reminding me…no matter how much grayer I get each day

My feet will always be there 

to hold me up…and help me find my way.

 

These shoes are filled with memories both good and bad ones too…

But they’re also filled with the hope of all the things I’ve yet to do…

 

And that’s why every summer when we return to the cabin

I put them on so joyfully

Because even though they’re old and weathered 

 

They keep going…just like me.


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REMEMBER

Remember when you were a child…just a little kid?

Remember all the fun you had…all the crazy things you did?

 

Remember when you you were mesmerized by the land…the trees…the sky?

Remember when you laughed a lot…when you weren’t afraid to cry?

 

Remember playing pirates…watching birds as they took flight?

Remember when you played in the rain and had neighborhood snowball fights?

 

Remember when you watched insects for hours…built a castle in the sand?

Remember when a few pots and pans were the instruments in your band?

 

Remember going on scavenger hunts…riding on handlebars?

Remember making forts out of cardboard boxes.

Remember staring at the stars?

 

Remember playing hooky…jumping in puddles after a storm.

Remember baking cookies with grandma and eating them when they were warm?

 

Remember getting dirty…remember how you loved to draw

Remember making silly movies…the kind only your family saw?

 

Well that child you remember…and all those crazy things you used to do…

that child you remember…is still inside of you.

 

He or she is waiting…of this I have no doubt…

Perhaps today’s a good day…to let that child out.

 

 

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30 YEARS

On their morning walk the other day the wife said something that perked up her husband’s ears

She asked if he realized they’d been taking these walks for almost 30 years.

 

And it got the husband to thinking of all the wonders they’ve seen in 30 years.

All the moments shared together…all the laughter, joy and tears…

 

30 years watching the neighborhood change…as people come and go

30 years getting caught in the rain…but never in the snow.

 

30 years of sunrises…each one a new surprise.

30 years of clouds and colors stretching endlessly across the sky.

 

30 years walking to the water…listening to the birds…smelling the morning air

30 years of dolphins, pelicans and eagles…waiting for them there.

 

30 years of watching people change…as they made this walk each day.

30 years of friends who have passed…while others moved away.

 

30 years watching their children grow…and then their grandchildren too.

30 years watching their lives unfold and relishing the view.

 

30 years noticing how they too have changed…how they now move a little slow

30 years of aches and pains and wrinkles…nonexistent 30 years ago.

 

30 years of walking…sharing hopes and dreams and fears…

And the husband wondered how it went so fast…these amazing 30 years.

 

Then he turned…saw his wife’s smile…and instantly…he knew

She was the reason for his 30 years of wonder…

She made each walk seem brand new.

 

And when the wife saw the husband’s smile

to herself she whispered his name

for as she thought about the last 30 years

she couldn’t help but feel the same.

 

 

 

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A LIFE WITHOUT STORIES

“Have I ever told you the story?” I begin and immediately hear my family’s collective sigh…

“About the time I was accidentally shot by an arrow…

and it almost hit my eye?”

 

Before I finish this question my children and grandchildren collapse in frustration to the floor.

It seems they’ve heard me tell this story…

a million times before.

 

And as proof this is a story they have heard…

and heard…

and heard…

they finish the rest of the story with me…

complete with gestures…

word for word.

 

We have many stories like this one… 

stories where the present meets the past. 

stories that bind us as a family…

stories that will last…

and last…

and last…

 

Stories repeated over and over again…

so when any of us is gone

those left behind can sit and smile…

as that memory lives on.

 

For without these memories of friends and family…

life’s recollections large and small…

without these stories oft repeated…

 

there would be no life at all.


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THE HOSUE SPEAKS

I love to wake up early when I can feel my house’s mystique.

I love to walk her rooms in solitude and listen to her speak.

 

I imagine she is always speaking…releasing memories I can hear

but in the quiet of the morning…they come in loud and clear.

 

So many moments I recall as I silently walk her halls…

because every memory we’ve ever made here

is imbedded in her walls.

 

She has seen a host of celebrations…everyone she stores away

so in the morning, when I stop to listen…she has quite a lot to say.

 

All the memories created here…babies crawling on these floors

toddlers walking, children singing…teenagers slamming doors.

 

Family dinners, birthdays, good times…the accomplishments…the miscues.

This house has seen much happiness…and her share of sadness too.

 

It’s as if time has been suspended…I know not why…or how

But I can hear and see and smell and taste these memories

as if they’re happening…right now.

 

Each step I take there is a memory, 

on each piece of furniture

behind each door

And I gladly pick and choose them…like a child in a candy store.

 

Realizing soon enough the day will begin…

for when sunlight replaces nightfall…

I know these wonderful cherished old memories…

will fade back into the walls.

 

Perhaps that’s why I love waking up early

not knowing what memories will be there when I arrive

not knowing as my house speaks to me…

what memories will come alive.

 

 

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JUST AN OLD HAT

It was a windy morning as we were walking down the street

when a hat came tumbling toward us and landed at our feet.

 

I was about to throw it in the trash, when, upon a whim

I turned it over and noticed a label…sewn into the brim.

 

'This hat belongs to Sam’, it read, ‘who often loses track

of where he sets it down…but he’d love to have it back.’

 

The hat was old and weathered…it’s stitching was a mess

But I tucked it under my arm and we walked to his address.

 

I couldn’t imagine why this hat was so important…and who would want it anymore

until we rang the doorbell…and Sam opened up the door.

 

“You found it!” He exclaimed, “I think, this time, I lost it by the sea.”

He thanked us as he held it to his heart…then invited us in…for tea.

 

He explained how this was his ‘lucky’ hat…he’d worn it all his life.

He was wearing it the day he met Bess, who would later be his wife.

 

He wore it to his three children’s births, on every family vacation.

He wore it to parties and weddings and soccer games and a host of graduations.

 

He continued naming off places he’d worn it…through all life’s milestones.

How he wore it to Bess’s funeral…and how he now wears it alone.

 

He said when he started to forget things, Bess put that hat upon her knee

“and sewed in this here label…so it would find it’s way back to me.”

 

“And it has!” He said as he rubbed that label. “It was Bess who was behind it.”

“She found a way for me to get my hat 

when she’s not here to help me find it.”

 

As we said goodbye and walked away…I glanced back and…imagine that!

Sam was waving from the window and he was wearing that old hat.

 

I guess you never know on any given day…the people you might meet

And what new wonders the capricious winds of fate will lay beneath your feet.

 

But if you happen to see a hat tumbling toward you…I hope you find he knack

to pick it up…because there’s a man who you don’t even know…

 

who would love to get it back.



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A Lingering Wish

Folder: 
All and nothing

 

To regale a tale of young love missed,

Leashed up leanings, lastly, unsews,

To show regret follows those unkissed,

 

Fated surprise came, with a twist,

Emptied hands, devoid of pose,

Tells the fail of young love missed,

 

Fallen eyes, to chest, in wist,

On leaden lips, a pursed ripple rows,

Now regret follows those unkissed,

 

A roving gaze for a cravings tryst,

A lingering wish, glanced, yet knows,

The welling vale that young love missed,

 

Lost, as lost as in a mist,

Chaste desires resided in repose,

How regret follows those unkissed,

 

Infernally speared in daydreams blissed,

Sorrow; a hollow net of woes,

So tells a tale of young love missed,

Now regret bellows for those not kissed.

 

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Uncensored Glance

Folder: 
All and nothing

 

When our eyes met,

Your face blew up,

With surprise and

In the shock, I

Caught a glimpse of something,

Held deeply,

Past.

 

It was then I knew,

Feelings don’t diminish,

They try in vain to,

Fall from view,

Maybe you saw it

In me,

Too,

 

Only your drifting gaze,

Led secrets out,

Untold, to sift my memory, anew,

 

What would we have had,

If we’d had the chance?

How I wish I’d known,

I painted your eyes,

Black.

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