f ervid
l ayered ~
a rrive unbidden ~
s napshots of joy
h earten same ~
b ully reviews
a dmonish ...
c austically
k notting
s erenity
Under the jacaranda tree,
hoping for some shade,
I dream old dreams
evoking immemorial flashbacks.
Placed 3
Flashbacks are the safe havens
for those who want to escape
from their mundane routines.
2nd Place
God’s heart ~
globe of love and light,
flashbacks we remember fondly.
Why did we leave?
enduring
flashbacks
of traumatic experience
of almost drowning;
he swears
he's never going
swimming...
again.
Flashbacks I would
rather not see
I yearn
for your love returned . . .
as my reality
Flashbacks come when I’m alone,
a smell, a sound
and suddenly, I’m back there again.
memories come creeping
flashbacks to grief
ignoring the happy moments I treasure
in my soul
same eyes with a new name
in a new skin
my nightmare flashbacks movie frame
Open graves, petrichor pelts a casket nailed shut—awoken by trembling flashbacks, clawing for air.
flashbacks are corkscrews!
each loop
entwines
what was,
with what
could be,
when cork
pops!
lights flare inside my mind
of pain, agony ~ doubt flashbacks of love
blindsiding my heart
FLASHBACKS
The flashbacks seem to come thick and fast
Ever since I opened that photo album
I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office
The empty chair there lingers.
dark tendrils coiling in my mind—
my blind rage pleading for quiet healing.
flashbacks clash like striking thunder
opening buried treasures of truth.
and in that final brand searing cry
My heart reborn, mindlessly adrift in spectral mist.
I gladly depart as sleet glazes, streets so slick…..
Summer’s in the rearview mirror,
re-experience it at your peril.
it’ll only distract you now, and maybe depress you.
Summer shifts your orbit, from classrooms and remote zooms,
to lollygagging by beaches and snuggling in cozy hotel rooms.
As intense and vital as last summer was - as they all are -
it’s already blurring in memory.
Soon only the memory of sensations will remain,
like the warmth of the breeze and the sun on my skin
and sigh the warmth of a certain boy’s skin on my skin.
Those flashbacks ache, late at night, like phantom limbs.
.
.
Songs for this:
All I Wanna Do by Sheryl Crow
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