Long Scrapbooks Poems

When Grandma died, I found some things

                         Gifts midst tears that...

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Mirror of Memories "Alzheimer's" Contest
Sponsor: TAMMY REAMS

I woke up scared...can't remember the time I woke up..
Scattered pictures of lost loves in my distant past.
There she is again, she said she is my daughter, 
But I...

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My favorite hobby has always been scrapbooking
It's such a creative activity to do
For pictures and poems, I'm always looking
Forever scanning magazines through and through

I look for pictures of people and places
Some happy, some excited, some...

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My three sweet boys passed within one year, 
          a Golden Retriever, white fluffy bunny and a Pug.
When I think of each memory I still wipe...

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There was a horrible fire in my 
        house not too long ago-
Everything burned to ashes and 
in the garbage I had to throw
    ...

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My mum and I made many scrapbooks over the years.
To find inspiring and interesting pictures was not hard
And most magazines got past my mothers sense of decorum
And her duty to protect me from scantily clad...

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fear seems to be the cause du jour
fear if it all just ended
shapes us like quivering jello molds

fear of the landline
tapping into our heads
fear of the landmine
careless gifts from the feds

electric shivers
primal and oozing
forgetting ripe...

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I've contemplated your desires as you walk into an occupied room.
You stood there laughing, bringing sweet conversations to everyone
around you. I saw the way you catch their attention for such strikingly
words that sweep out of...

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I sat and watched as you stood and cried,
you laid and pondered on why she lied.
For too long we noticed her health decline,
oh please God, why couldn’t it be benign?
For all the moments as we...

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Sixteen minutes is all I had to grab what I hold dear,
now seven things left is all I have to always keep near. 

That set of six scrapbooks was the first I saved with pride,...

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I viewed the dawn through mist of fading dreams,   
Aware of silver feet upon the roof.
Eaves shivered wet, while raindrops welcomed spring
With murmured sounds, and giving me excuse
To burrow down and doze, with...

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There's this strange fascination, 
I carry without contemplation-
it lingers on with infatuation,
as I'm stuck on this fixation.

My mother never taught me this,
I learned this all on my own-
Picture Frames and scrapbooks, 
full of the pets...

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"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
                        Samuel...

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Building a fire 

Had a smirk of sorrowful clarity 
Someone dancing on my grave.
And a artist 
The night was gathering materials.
 Knowing  ambition for pleasure
Would never fill the pit.
The night called for a burn
All...

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Had a smirk of sorrowful clarity 
Someone dancing on my grave.
And a artist 
The night was gathering materials.
 Knowing  ambition for pleasure
Would never fill the pit.
The night called for a burn
All the grasped boxes...

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Though the trail has grown cold,
this never deters
Clues are always left behind ...
connections of a most human kind
Desperate souls feel a compulsive need
to leave cyber cadaver traces of a living memory
Holographic scrapbooks hidden in encrypted...

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Like an old cat stretching her limbs in the sunlight
Warmth seeping through knots in her gnarled hands and sShe sits on a paisley chair in front of the East window
welling in her stiff knees

Pressed roses...

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This body that I am now forced to own
once was a glove for desiring hands, and
a hand for the warm fitting-rooms of strangers.

I am an owner of derelict houses.
their roofs and walls unrecognizable
In the harsh...

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Black and White – 3-18-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black and White

Black and white come in focus -
Absent of prime –
A slice of life exposed through the lens,
A flash-dance of story, a masquerade ball.

No sunrise of sepia - clouds absent...

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Fragments of a buried life, microscopic pieces,
gathering and breeding, in all the little creases.
Snapshots, stills and scrapbooks, documented angst,
diaries of disasters,of when I craved another chance.
Handled like a teeny fragile delicate new-born,
hands grasped too hard...

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Some children sat down on the floor.
They sat till their bottoms were sore.
“We could each take a chair,”
said one boy sitting there.
“So then what are we waiting for?”


For the Juvenilia Contest of Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer

Note: Around...

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Fragments of a buried life, microscopic pieces,
gathering and breeding, in all the little creases.
Snapshots, stills and scrapbooks, documented angst,
diaries of disasters,of when I craved another chance.
Handled like a teeny fragile delicate new-born,
hands grasped too hard...

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The Last Full Moon of the Season
David J Walker

	Day of past days
Once in the way of 
	This today

Hours of past hours
	Cataloged and
Overlapped with
Horrors of mirrors
	And old age
In ivory towers

A presence within a
Long lost past 
Preserved...

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