Best Recollections Poems
As I sit upon these old porch steps, that I have always known
A weathered stoop, with gray floorboards, that shake with every wind
These creaks and groans, the flaws and chips, ... familiar to my hand
I have come to some conclusion,,,
I've come to understand,
how well I know each board, each slat, the shape, the size,
the warps, the cracks, ...each rusty nail, ....
but not the facts of you.
Oh yes, ... I've seen a glimpse or two,
in photographs. I have a few
I see a robust man, in yellowed hues, of vintage stock...
By a house, a barn, where land is strewn with stones to move.
You stand behind a horse and plow, in coveralls,... a mustache. too.
I do recall, so vaguely gray, as gray as the paint beneath my hand...
a jolly man, a wrinkled face,
with a smile, a laugh, a loving way
A dream I have, or is it real?
Is that me when I was two,... sitting here, beside you then?
Or is it just my wish to know... more than just a trace of you?
I never knew the man you were, your hopes your dreams...
the thousand schemes that brought you to these rocky slopes
so far from where your hopes began
Where the steep cliffs rose and seas were blue.
Today, beyond these furrowed rows,...
tall grasses grow in amber waves
The eyes will wander, and shadows grow
I ponder how it came to be....
that I am me,....
who came from you;
a man I never knew.
_____________________________________________________________
(To watch the youtube video recitation:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF4GCLqf9_o
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 'dead man walking.'
He sits savoring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying,
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes, as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy of his own premature death.
Silent One collaboration with Robert Lindley
17 December 2017
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout,
'dead man walking.'
He sits savouring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying;
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth,
unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes,
as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace,
feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy
of his own premature death.
Lost in an orchid. You and I.
Drunken songbirds, we’ve sipped the waves
And drank of day, of dank, of dusk
Together. You and I.
Yesterday a mystery slapped me
So hard I became a question mark.
Now
I stare in the face of memory, a prisoner,
Body, soul, and reason in the orchard
At La Pina beneath the sweltering pine.
Platero...
Like
wisps of
soft white spores -
those vague remnants -
are recollections wafting through my mind -
sun-gold heads of spring I no longer hold,
Yet I can glimpse
when they turned
into
fluff.
I
recall
my young self
blowing off the
fluff of seeds . . . wishing time would pass quickly.
My recollections -
whether they be good or bad -
do not make me glad.
Best times cannot be remade;
if I’m lucky, , , bad ones fade.
Written Oct. 27, 2012
For Michael J. Falotico's Reflection Poetry Contest
Visions swim in my mind that I wish I could not see. I fear to drown in the rush of their rapids, lapping at my face. Each tear I cry leaves a trace of tragedy that cannot be erased, nor regrets that threaten to pull me into a whirlpool of memories. Such thought provoking moments trigger sorrowful refrains of song.
waves rush to the shore
withered leaves in a current ~
caught in undertow
Cheerier recollections calm me as gentle musings on a tranquil lake, where I float contentedly, beneath a cloudless canopy. There are no ripples to blur my happiness; nor sadness to furrow my brow. Mirrored reflections in these Elysian interludes gentle the beat of my heart, and I am at peace with life.
sunshine and blue skies
serenity in nature ~
placid innocence
April 16, 2021
Moments of Reflection Contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury
For eons, as a spirit on this earth
I’ve dwelt; I still recall the autumn‘s cold
when I was human on this new year’s birth,
that “hallowed eve” when spirits would grow bold!
Our homes were unlit and uninviting
lest spirits might possess our souls that night.
We’d gather round the fire priests were lighting
and whooped like ghouls to give the ghosts a fright!
Through time, I‘ve seen such changes, and a drought!
I followed my descendants to the shore
of this America. Here kids go out
on their new “Halloween” from door to door.
My kin had wrongly feared the likes of me.
This night is mostly about the candy!
By Andrea Dietrich
For Russell Sivey's
Halloween Fun Contest
Echoes of the deep
Seeking the old woven tale
Of the past foretold.
My Freedom of Recollections
I am not original
I am just an open book
I am noticeable because I am simple
I grow weary of what to think
I seldom find any faults
When I do find fault
It is I
Not the person who I see
Because I am the only one judging at that moment
I look into my deepest memories
And it always was what I saw that made who I am
What I hear
What I smelled
What I touch
What I felt
It was not a book
It was not any other person
It was just the experience
Being held
That was me
Held sincerely
It all went gone
My peace that was lost
And now was found
Where do you think these things come from?
What value it holds
A touch with a simple hand
A kiss on a cheek
A whisper of kindness in the ear
It was not for sure my older siblings
It was not for sure the adopted parents
The recollection of this was sooner
The recollection was more than brighter
The protection was there
But the intimate demand disappeared
The value it holds so unclear
Moments, minutes, hours, days, and years
It all comes to one special feeling
To exist
Is to be kind
Is to be happy
Is to know faults
Is to be your self
Is to value
Each and everything around you
This is life
My recollection is life
No other way nor other people can change my recollection
Sorry
restless itching
As a fist in the face
it scrolls replay on the canvas
Reflect on the value of memories
divided emotional thoughts
Complexity of life
pollute the air
sorry
recall first school day
I stood weeping, scared to move
we held hands at five
she vowed to look after me
we were close, with a deep bond
we had sweet-sad thoughts
dispute with football or dolls
taking both shows care
saddened by her lengthy trip
she cupped my cheeks and we kissed
she flushed when I grinned
felt proud and had butterflies
I soothed her last fall
I hugged her and wiped her tears
we took the shield out chatting
hopes ostracise fears
Brooke faded at age twenty-four
I love her thoughts view
her tomb shares highs and lows
for now, she'll stand as best friend
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 10, 2022
Syllables checked by HMS.com
Inspired by “Childhood Nostalgia” Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
AM:00
and the ambient intelligence around me grows
and the dread lights resound
they are too bright I can’t hear myself think
they are too loud buzzing and I cannot hear myself think
Think think think
and I swear I saw a sound moving ever so carefully across the carpet
as a beam of light enters the machines brain
and a thought is constructed
however feeble and lame
and I’m dying to know to know
what it knows about itself
or the outside of its own shell
Just as I am trapped in my own form
and constricted
we are all dying to know what anothers life is like to walk in ones shoes as the
say
but without a way to do so
that is our world
today
Recollections of a Pekingese
Remembering she loved me so.
Alone and frightened in that shop,
Hidden like a gerbil, laying low.
While wishing someone kind would stop.
I barked and yapped when she came near.
Because I knew she'd loved me so.
With sparkle eyes, she held me dear.
And took me home where I did grow.
Protecting her when we would go.
While in her lap, I’d bark and yap.
We lived because she loved me so.
And thus it was ‘til death did tap.
I watch from heaven up above.
And shield her from life’s dreadful woe,
Two spirits fitting like one glove.
Remembering she loved me so.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 18, 2010
From Cabin Boy To Grateful Recollections By Old Sailor
Kindness, heart and deep joy, as I remember you
I child, a mere boy, innocent without a clue.
Your attention and love, a blessing warm and true
In Heaven far above, I know you got your due!
I wept day you died, with tears falling hard and fast
Sobbing as I cried, on a ship with broken mast.
Old sailor I now be, sea my sweet paradise
Poor but blessedly free, such may in life suffice!
Years have heavy toll took, yet memory serves well
Friend your teaching good book, freed me from living hell.
Each new dawn I now wake, to precious life you saved
For love and heaven's sake, great sorrows I have braved!
As midnight moon and sky, this heart gifts healing views
I no longer ask why, some are poor with no shoes
When death's black hand I shake, you words shall my soul save
Your faith I'll not forsake, Light unto death and grave!
Kindness, heart and deep joy, as I remember you
I child, a mere boy, innocent without a clue.
Your attention and love, a blessing warm and true
In Heaven far above, I know you got your due!
R.J. Lindley, May 19th, 1974
Rhyme, ( New poem, A Tribute To John Greenleaf Whittier )
Seeking a new path, straighter than an arrow flies...
"Ecce apertum est lux et veritas in oculis Aurora scriptor
mollis nati sunt, fulgentibus radiis." RJL