grandma, the family storyteller
in old age would forget
so her stories changed with the retelling
but an essence of truth remained
her voice echoes in my heart
was each story semantic to grandma
new in ambiguity to her
with random memories merging
I am the storyteller now
looking into the calm reflective waters of time
seeking recollected memories that echo
my words specular with reflected words
I am that girl at the kitchen table
listening to her musical voice impacting me
I wonder did she realize her life ending
did she want to give me her gift
I often escape into her fugue of melodic telling
her unexpected memory with all the beautiful failures
that perhaps only I who wished to be like her
who knew her stories told over years would grasp
As harsh brightness mellows into soft night
So dull diurnal duty dies away
When sharp edges of life fade from sight
Our minds now set free to dream and to play
No longer by daily tasks constrained and tight
Then softness and magic are on full display
The stirrings of poetry showing their might
Banning petty cares ,no more our hearts to fray
Unveiling the depths of souls in their true light
To show us the true meaning of eternity
Out of the hours of darkness shines the bright
Beauty of soulful understanding blocked by day
Refreshing us for the struggles we must fight
Emotions recollected in tranquillity
It's a winter wonderland
pure, pristine, clean,
cleansed of the darkness
given to the transition of the light
release from the cold blackness of night.
The morning sun rise glistens
reflective rays listening
winds blowing off the cotton ivory coverlets
from every bouncing branch
within the chill of winter's first dance.
Snug and warm within closed doors
safe, protected in the confines of these walls
the season echoes a recurring call,
of peace, goodwill, promised hope
from the gifts of Heaven's host.
A celebration of life living from sacrifice
the heart fires begin to ignite
decorating trees, ornaments and lights
for recollected finds
in memorialized Christmas time.
Two thousand years dusting the centuries
of the Christ child's entry
his birth along the once desolate earth
renewing hope, joy, promises and love
gifts from our Creator above
it's the bounty and gratitude
revealed in
the first snow
reminder of where
we have been..
I laud precious memories when cold nights prevail.
Those that fan love's flames against Winter winds
for in those images my lonely heart beats again,
if only an interlude where grief holds no reign.
But mourns my heart when they are bittersweet.
Each one a dagger plunged too deep.
They cannot be banished or cast aside,
for with each attack my wounds bleed again.
I cannot escape the sorrowful tears
that trickle when those memories come unbidden.
There's no antidote to stave off the infection
of the melancholy sadness my mind recalls.
But there are melodious moments,
joyfully sweet dulcet thoughts
when gentler memories flow.
They brush across my heart like paint on canvas,
as treasured works of art being recalled.
When a smile, sans apparent reason, reaches my eyes
making them shine as if emerging from an eclipse,
a cherished memory is being recollected.
These are the priceless souvenirs I relive.
The organic chemistry of memory
is faster than light.
it cannot be deleted, only defeated.
That cellular crucible deletes itself
by an entropy of catalytic reactions.
Stop stoking the flames
then the ash will then fly away.
Whose your daddy, whose your ma?
Who parents your life, now that the parents
have become your children, progeny recollected
by old images of yourself.
The world, that part of the brain we know as us,
it is always incomplete,
it does not evolve, it only recalls itself
over and over again.
We are unborn, the progenitors of
an imagined ancestry.
Our legacy is a rootless mirage,
and we can never delete
what never was.
One poetess advised me to be brief
As my words can be easily recollected
She is no more, but her advice lingers
I nowadays think of her with gratitude
Only when we are brief and to the point
Our message will be read by everyone
As, all are worried over loss of time
And brevity makes them never worry
Even if my poetry tells golden words
And it is so long like river Nile
Many may skip it in a hurry with fear
As time can never be wasted by all
Thank you dear poetess, you are great
As once you were nominated for Nobel
You belonged to the land of Socrates
Your advice is ever worth remembering
May your soul rest in peace my dear
You have opened my eyes usefully
I long back understood not your idea
Now, I know, you have benefited me
We must muse over others' admonitions
Gold and diamond may be there hidden
If we have the guts to scan and find
We and the World are surely profited !
*Piece of peace*
When it's a really tiring day,
When you have almost nothing to say,
What's to be done for an ease?
Just follow my way, of getting a piece of peace...
I closed my eyes and recollected,
The beautiful moments, in which I invested,
My short vacay with mom and dad,
A birthday surprise that made me glad...
Some fun hangouts with friends,
Many fun family gatherings which had no end...
Many endless funny talks..
Many more beautiful long walks...
I was mesmerized by my sweet past,
15 minutes, seemed somewhat lost...
When I opened my eyes, I realized..
How happily did I live my life....
It just refreshed me off, from the day
And again, I had nothing to say....
But now I had a smile on my face and my mind was at ease....
Coz I found myself, a piece of peace ?.....
~Akshaya
She felt old and tired,
Womb heavy with child.
Around, the stately cypress trees
Stood guard, protecting the dead,
And one especially
That lay peacefully in its tomb.
Wind softly soughed
And moaned like muted sirens
That she recollected seeing
In an old magical tome.
Yet no magic could bring back
The lover that had died
Just a few weeks ago.
The embryo moved slightly in its place
As if it knew who rested in the tomb,
And she wondered if the father
Had also moved in his earthly womb.
No tears fell. She left a rose,
Dark violet and perfumed
On the cold marble slab,
Turned and wended her way home
To take care of the one
That would soon be born.
There, in the middle of the vehicle free road,
she lulled herself, slowly and gently, back, and forth
to the rhythm of her rocking chair, as she sang
her song in earnest defiance, strident,
misquoted words of randomly recollected hymns,
but she cared not a damn.
Perhaps we should all have joined in
form a kind of manic impromptu congregation
right there, right then,
instead, neighbours looked on and whispered.
Next day she would be gone
taken to Jenkins.
Even us children knew what that was.
When she did come back, nothing was said
The word was never going to exit anyone’s mouth,
Ssssssh - no one dared mention it
but everyone knew
….. mother was mad.
Sometimes life is a challenge.
But I refuse to seek revenge.
No matter how hard and dark things may seem.
Its time to redeem, to be reborn again and awaken that dream.
All the chaos and strife, rejected, arguments alienated, perfected.
My battles are not of this world.
There is no grudge left to hold.
Maybe it was all a dream.
I want to be alone, for a moment, to just let it all out and scream.
Taking care of a house, cooking and cleaning, left without remorse.
This is not my first course.
As I try to wake up and seek the truth.
Mistakes recollected from my youth.
I don't think I am who I want to be.
Life is a gift, a journey, you see---
My joy depends only on me.
In solitude, I will find peace of mind.
Only for a moment, as I forget all I have left behind.
Trying to regain strength and unwind.
No one deserves to be unhappy and pretend to live a perfect life.
Such a thing does not exist.
Loneliness is hard to resist.
As I fight to carry on and surpass this betrayal.
Indeed no counselor, just prayer.
Reminded of what is at stake.
Returning here, will be my last mistake.
Grateful if I wake up tomorrow,
Regretting wasted hours in isolated sorrow.
Dreams recollected, in state of waking
Our free will therein active, to discern
No memory of waking whilst dreaming
Our acts in waking state thus enabling
Life lessons we gradually so learn
Dreams recollected, in state of waking
Yoga affirms dream state enlightening
More so deep sleep, when all thought images burn
No memory of waking whilst dreaming
Drop in awareness debilitating
Stuporous tendency, cause of concern
Dreams recollected, in state of waking
When each state be equal, illumining
No cravings remain, which may heart upturn
No memory of waking whilst dreaming
Be this as it may, we keep on walking
Tranquil, even though turbid life does churn
Dreams recollected, in state of waking
No memory of waking whilst dreaming
09-October-2021
You crossed, at your time to cross,
Your death, not unexpected,
But my heart still feels the loss
Of the light that you projected.
You were the bottom storeys
On which my life has been erected,
The library that stored the stories
Of my childhood, recollected.
The memory of all that went before
In you, was resurrected.
Of whom I am, can I be sure
Without those stories you collected?
It’s important
what you get called
has a name,
one you can take
to the ivory
border
It’s important
what you’re called
is remembered the same,
today recollected
tomorrow
reordered
A mark on the stone
no longer
unknown,
your history and
legacy
rendered
Sapphire crystal
overlord set,
the past
eponymous
the future
—kismet
(The New Room: February, 2021)
Frctured memories remain
over and over in time again refrains
embedded in the mind dearly
it's the heart that sees more clearly;
simple and politely attained
focused on the encounters and love gained
was it sunny that day
or did it rain?
A first love experience is often lost to clarity
delightful and innocent predictive familiarity
recollected awkward sophistications
the when and why of final destinations;
looking back the mind can focus
on the mix and match hocus pocus
but the heart alone can see
the future you and me.
Some fifty years have passed away
tears and laughter shared over those days
do you remember them as well as I
always wondered who would be first to say goodbye;
they're only sweet memories dusty now
together we got thru them all somehow
with minds and bonded hearts
those memories live tho we are apart.
for contest by Constance La France
Dusty Old Memories
8/4/2020
After a long interval...
When I heard your well-modulated calm voice
through the phone receiver saying "HELLO"
Just a moment~ I blinked my eyes to recognise
the tone..
As soon as I recollected our last argument,
I felt an ultimate shiver in my heart
it was as though electric power was circulating
throughout my body
Heart beat thumping very rapidly.,
Perspiring continuously ----
brooding over past..
guessing the reason for this sudden call..
without responding ,Still I stood.
Emotions kept progressing untill I heard that
One word " Sorry " from "you"...!!!
When I finally heard it ,
Was back to "normal zone" in my life..
24-7-2020
Note:STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (13),any form,
any theme Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
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