Nostalgia triggered
By some small thing
(A familiar smell, a familiar environment
Some same old feeling
Swelling within the heart)
Leads to reminiscence
Reminiscence triggered
By nostalgia
(Remembering the time
The place, the people
That were important once upon a time)
Leads to curious inquiry
Inquiry triggered
By reminiscence
(Looking up an old friend
A place you once belonged
A person you once belonged to)
Leads to a bookend.
Sometimes it is easy to find the lost
And sometimes the lost is just lost.
That school building was torn down.
That park was paved over.
A new building erected where a copse of trees once stood.
I once knew a pretty boy who went to college
For a while he was a poet, and then he became an addict.
Some are dead. Some can't be found.
Some have married, matured, mated.
Some are deeply happy, successful.
Some I do not remember enough about to find.
Or never knew enough about.
Some doors in life are shut. Some reopened.
But there are a few
That I have always held on to
(I have held on to you)
(I will hold onto you)
Tag: Poems
The Game
Play with fire,
Make them burn,
Make them know the phrase "to yearn."
Play with ice,
Freeze them out,
Make them wish that you would shout.
Play with fire. Play with ice.
Don't play nice
For Me (sonnet breaking syllable rule)
I found a place to simply be
And selfishly made time for me
Within the realm of Quietly
Allowed my soul to wander free
Therein I found a sense of self
Between the tomes upon the shelf
In understanding what I felt
Finally learning how to melt
Allow the new day to pour through
And flush away all shades of blue
To none other I owe no due
And to oneself I must be true
From now my heart sings this one song
To no one else do I belong
sonnet – transience
What does it mean to begin and to end?
To ken the truth behind finality?
Perhaps to know is to better amend
and allow oneself certain clarity.
We measure our lives in the breadth of day
and from the drawing of first and last breath.
Or measure in moments near and away,
or within happiness, sadness, and wrath.
Regardless, time flows onward like a stream,
into the future, creating a past.
Remember that this will seem like a dream
and that nothing good or bad ever lasts.
Value the moment for what it can be.
Or plow through hardship and someday be free.
haiku (ain’t nothing gonna break my stride)
effortlessly done
and easily forgotten
barely a setback
(not really the title of the poem, but it put the song in my head as I worked on it)
(also, yay, we’re halfway through the month!)
mehryment 