there
is the odd reminder of another place.
fragrant
reminiscence in a flash;
passed
- but in its wake - a trace.
like
a tired book of poetry
that tries and fails to resonant.
close,
so very close, but in the end
tenuous,
vague, ethereal.
page
after page careful to avoid
warmth
of feeling or familiarity ... and
though
subtle images, occasionally, kindle a pleasant reverie,
it
is far less vivid than the recollection begs to be.
the
nearness of memories made where they can be revisited,
in
that sweet connectedness that time and place evoke.
the
chance encounter on the streets,
traversed
by past and present home town folk.
tinged
forever with the young thrill of what could be.
the
laughter, the closeness: the comfort that home brings.
the
houses filled with family and friends.
the
hopes - the heart stirred by simple things.
in
the days of mostly easy time,
in
the final passages - bright symbols turn to gray ...
the
missing touch stones of those memories
of
so much life - lived far away.
note: posted for Poets United.
photo: Another Place - W. Bourke
© 2015 Wendy Bourke
Wherever we are we take memories with us and we'll often think back to recall ourselves in past times and of what could have been. This is such a beautiful poem Wendy.
ReplyDeleteThe last lines are so resonant - sad and yet brilliant and really connect with the image..how distant our lives can feel..almost out of reach but close..and 'in the days of mostly easy time' has a wonderful poignancy..too often we can romanticise and idealise but this seems like a very wise and accepting place to be..
ReplyDeletePS Loved your photographs :)
DeleteI felt myself going back to those faded memories...... those sometimes longed for earlier times. Such a beautiful description. Lovely poem Wendy!
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love this.
ReplyDelete" but in its wake - a trace.
like a tired book of poetry
that tries and fails to resonant.": Perfect.
-HA
Faded memories are like faded pages of delicate poetry.. such a fine image.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully penned :D
Lots of love,
Sanaa
I like the comparison to tired poetry that fails to resonate...leaving just a hint of longing...perfect!
ReplyDeleteI feel the connection between past & present here....the thoughts of how it is true that sometime fragrances transport us back to some previous time.. It is oftentimes pleasant that the 'nearness of memories' is triggered and brings us back to 'the laughter, the closeness' that one felt at an earlier time. I was a bit confused by the last few lines when the bright symbols turning to gray & wondered if this is during dementia or at the very end of life...or....
ReplyDeleteOur society has become very transient and movable - primarily because of the quest for jobs. For much of the 20th century it was a given: we would grow up, grow old and die in the same place (if we chose to) ... a place seeped in the experiences of our lives.
DeleteBut, that changed. Now: people often do not "end up" where they were born and raised families. They "end up" where their work stopped. There are memories, of course, of a lifetime of living. But without those familiar places to return to (homes we knew ... the local school we went to ... the town picnic ground, etc.) ... the "touchstones" of a lifetime are not there and the memories are far less vivid.
Thanks for the explanation. Yes, so very true.
DeleteMemories can be treasures.
ReplyDeleteI think the way we constantly uproot, without even bringing a connection with us might be a reason for unwellness... maybe we need to constantly write our own poetry to connect us back... Love your images Wendy.
ReplyDeleteI like the collection of memories...esp. dear for me - the photos....like the words in your poem and focus technique at the photo of beautiful metaphoric bouquet... ~ peaceful Sunday.
ReplyDeleteTimes are changing our lives are forced to change and we ourselves are always evolving. I often reflect on memories and lost opportunities the faded pages from the book of life. I do, however, seek comfort in knowing today is a new day and we must somehow live in the "now" in our dreams we are transformed and can find our roots and even speak to our ancestors.
ReplyDeleteA lovely reflective poem Wendy...Keep the pen ready there is so much to write...
You have captured well how far we travel these days from our childhood homes. I remember how much closer together the family seemed when I was a kid, and now we are scattered all over the place. Your closing lines are especially poignant. A beautiful write, Wendy.
ReplyDeleteYes! Memories visit us at the most unexpected times and we dive into them uncontrollably. A beautiful poem :)
ReplyDeletememories are good, they add dimension to an otherwise linear existence
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday to you
much love...
We do lose those touchstones, sometimes they are places and sometimes they are people, a great exploration of memory and how we find/lose our way.
ReplyDeleteIt seems rare in today's world that homes are passed on through generations as they once were. And many of us don't live in the towns we grew up in. You are right, it seems something of memory can get lost, as transient as we are. Warm and yet somber, a thoughtful poem, Wendy.
ReplyDeleteThis is feeling quite relatable to me now with what our family has been going through. I just love "days of mostly easy time" and "bright symbols turn to gray."
ReplyDeleteI like this Wendy. It captures that melancholy mood as we think of times and places past. It's true the memory is less than the actual experience, yet it can bring a little comfort even though it makes us a little sad.
ReplyDeleteThere is so much here Wendy--the sense of how we connect to what is there--lovely close especially
ReplyDelete