Picture This
every day seven hundred million video clips
are shot and stored on memory chips
then uploaded to some video cloud
and vaporously saved for society proud
the dog tricks, the hilarious cats,
pretty daughters, the mundane facts
the sunsets and beautiful flowers
seven hundred million fractions of hours
personally amorous indiscreet **** or
grieving mother cradling child forlorn
proud fathers shooting son's ball game
the clips of our lives we want to frame
weddings, funerals, baby bubble baths
the stupid stuff we've done for laughs
protesting people marching in streets
saints, sinners, the just plain creeps
if stored on iron, the bits, would rust
if shelved, be clung to, by bits of dust
yet we long to capture meaning somehow
to be reviewed tomorrow, when time allows
press record, click shutter hoping to keep
feelings, emotions, these moments discreet
our very act of attempted save to relive
an attempt to pass on lives - to outlive
our mortified flesh and calcified bones
the incessant drifting of time's sands blown
incarnating our lives to immortality acquire
and so fulfill our Ozymandian desire
© DGoode Guy 2014-01-27
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ozymandias
Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment