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John W Leko

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pall-mall
by John W Leko

Saturday, May 31, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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           >> View all 57



in ones eyes
all is seen
and the shadows
yes
they are there
for I have walked in many.

the streets I know are these
sweeping me through time
now
but so unfamiliar
from concrete dreams
I once danced upon
in years
younger.

like the striking element
within
an old Ronson lighter
I felt I was
in like flint
while life
once so fluid
refillable knew
I too would become obsolete
remembered
yet disposable.

with time all became
so packaged
while to strike
became the torch
I yet carry
remembering liberty’s face
in the stars reflection
of
Hudson midnights
and moonlit manhattans.

my vintage hat box
fitting one
stores many
worn within
once Borsalino bound
now dusty fade
auras
shelved in darkness
their crown once golden
past.

somewhere still
suspended in time
hooped
are years
when once the hit
mallet memories
took me on a roll
down alleys
where shots rang out
from hip flasks
thrown back
to friends of early times.

pedaled thoughts
go flat
as spokes spin silent
the wheel of fate
so traveled
the springs and falls
I took
in black and white
then
now given color
of the heart
blue
memories of something
prohibited
and how it felt
so free.


© 2008 Copyrights of John W Leko
All Rights Reserved

 

 

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Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen 6/7/2008
ah yes, savor those memories-- and illusions!
love the mood of this engaging write, john.
peace,
carolyn
Reviewed by Jeanette Cooper 6/6/2008
A beautiful poem and I especially liked the second stanza: "sweeping me through time
now
but so unfamiliar
from concrete dreams"

Where did all those concrete dreams go to? --they took paths far removed from the dreams themselves.
Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg 6/5/2008
luv the word usage here...its poetic art...my fav stanza is about the lighter...
Reviewed by Cryssa C 6/4/2008
There seems to be something almost plaintive about this write... I found myself feeling nostalgic, and a little sad...

Cryssa
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 6/4/2008
Ah yes, the days of yore... ...well done, John. This is a stirring write. Love and peace to you,

Regis
Reviewed by Selene Skye 6/4/2008
Like Alice through the looking glass, i fell through the mirror into the world of these lines and was captivated by each word's exqusisite placement to evoke such tremulous and powerful emotions~thought.
Selene
Reviewed by Debra Kraft 6/4/2008
remembered yet disposable. Like all things, this too shall pass--yet in that passing, a memory penned with perfection; enough to draw the trace of a smile to smooth out the rough edges of today.
Reviewed by Joyce Bowling 6/4/2008
A wonderful reflective write that reminds us how the past, trinkets, and obects affect our our lives today, but also how quickly time passes and how things continually change...but in our memories and our heart many times they remain the same! Enjoyed this very much, well written my friend!
Blessings,
Joyce B.
Reviewed by Randall Barfield 6/3/2008
Love where it begins 'pedaled thoughts...' and the 'blue memories'. Great job. 'free' is an interesting word near the end.
Reviewed by David Thompson 6/3/2008
I once was filled to the brim with vim and vigor like the Ronsons and Zippos of an age gone by, with visions of grandeur in the eyes of others. But now I've reached the age of being out of date and non-refundable. Perhaps I even held a Pall Mall between the first two fingers of my left hand and dreamed of walking a street in London bearing the same name. I can't remember now...it's been so long ago. Memories fade in due time, you know. And, as I rattle my brain forward into the world of reality, I realize that your words alone have caused me to travel, for a time, into my dreamworld of yesteryear. For that I am most grateful. It is but a few who can take me there.

David Lee Thompson
Reviewed by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper 6/2/2008
super poeming John, love the way you metaophored and laid this out
Reviewed by Myrna Badgerow 6/2/2008
I do apologize, my friend, because I thought I had left my thoughts on this beauty but alas...(methinks the brain cells are fading more quickly that first thought..lol) As I began to read the first stanza hit me like that wall we fear yes find comfort in... and then your analogies.. your metaphors.. just poured forth...the Ronson lighter, the hat box.. but it was the last stanza that stopped me cold... 'memories of something prohibited and how it felt so free'... Didn't it though? Excellent my friend.. Myrna
Reviewed by Elizabeth Price 6/2/2008
Great visit into the past. Thoroughly enjoyed. Liz
Reviewed by Art Sun 6/2/2008
Really nice work John...your give the picture od time passed and its revealing memories of which we have embedded within us...though some of the thoughts that we raise are of our own they are also of many who walked the same paths...

I like this one John it has a variety of character and emotion built within its frame of expression...

nice...


Art Sun...
Reviewed by William Bonilla 6/1/2008
I Always enjoy your writings and this one is but another
brilliantly composed contribution to the Den
All I can remember about Pall Mall is that it was my Father's
Choice of vise ...And the Bell-hop walking through a Hotel Lobby
Yelling "Call For Phillip Morris"
Peace be with you

William
Reviewed by Michael Guy 6/1/2008
pall-mall we go through time with special dreams and feelings we carry from birth, perhaps to the "grave" - yet a certain person like me (and I think maybe you) has a nostalgic slant on life that in its best moments becomes "Timeless". I would say fads are NOT your thing, yet what is missed is the "quality" of those things past - and in either case, as long as the "pall-malls" aren't the ones I smoked in my twenties, it's OK....Later, michael
Reviewed by Douglas Bentley 6/1/2008
And with a puff. . . .
Smoke rings . . . .
Fly by. . . .
Then evaporate.
Take another drag. . . .
Menthol - flat
Maybe drivin' an ol' H Rag?
I tip my hat.
Doug
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader) 6/1/2008
Glad I dropped by tonight to see this gem...time to take a bow my friend, love Holly
Reviewed by E T Waldron 6/1/2008
I love how you took us back to those days of prohibition,John, your imagery and way with words make this a classic! Superb work! ET
Reviewed by Barbara Smith 6/1/2008
John, true words painting a scene of days long gone but memories "still" as strong and alive as ever. This reader walked down those alley's with you and ducked as the shots rang out. Ah, you've captured such magnificent images bringing them to life in this wonderful poem. An excellent write.
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 6/1/2008
memories of something
prohibited
and how it felt
so free.

... and "free" is the flow of thoughts centring on some halcyon bygone days that are in each case as a cameo snapshot, taken through an Alice door into the fragrant and very visual garden of your memory. Indeed, the black and white of your words on the page take on the vibrant colour of stark, living images and the central stanza with the Ronson is stunning. Yes, John; as ever you ignite the flint of our imagination with the bright spark, ever renewable, of your liquid idea and expression. TY - another beauty! :)) Kate xx
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 6/1/2008
wonderful nostlgia!
Reviewed by Gerard Gauthier 6/1/2008
The scenery so stationary yet it passes before me living in its own time and me in mine...Great read John...the words compliment you.
Reviewed by MaryGrace Patterson 6/1/2008
Your words have captured "Time" ,the ins and outs of life. Pictures are painted of places, memories, feelings. Well Done, John.
Reviewed by Bernice Lakota 6/1/2008
Very nolstagic John, you got me thinking-in back and white--'bout back in the day, when all was carefree... I love this, simply exquisite!

Hugs

B
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 6/1/2008
An amazing write,, and I enjoyed all three times that I read it,, so much said from within, I felt like I was walking along side you observing your steps.... Excellent!
Christine
Reviewed by Georg Mateos 6/1/2008
You took me around the cobblestone streets of old Brookling, dark, with a few street lights that where not smashed by hooligans.
That Borsalino hat, against so many fedoras, gave the walker an air of authority that prevent the mugger to try; the shining spit and polished shoes, the head hig, walking, there was a poet through the night like an untouchable ghost.

Georg
Reviewed by Rose Rideout 6/1/2008
I love the way you words things as we can many things different ways, they say it is not whats said but how it is said, great writing John. Thank you for sharing.

Newfie Hugs, Rose
Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 6/1/2008
Nostalgic and a bit sad...and yes, memories...but I believe they are what we choose to make them...how we want to remember them. Excellent writing, John. You always make the reader feel as though they have entered into a piece of the world that you have written about.
Reviewed by Shedding Light 5/31/2008
You have way with words ... excellent poetry !!

Harold M. Nash
Reviewed by Staci Gansky-Wagner 5/31/2008
Nostalgic write, and a wonderful way with words. We are always making memories though, and even in the present right now, will be in the past tomorrow. Sad reflections of yesterday only steals from our happiness today. :)
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis 5/31/2008
Drawn completely into your world, taken along to walk with you side-by-side during a fleeting moment in the time of your life, listening to your thoughts (anything but flat) resonate between past and present ~ I can taste the bittersweet of your memories. Wonderful.
Reviewed by Gwendolyn Thomas Gath 5/31/2008

"pall-mall"
John,
Wonderful play upon words as you built to the climatic effect of freedom, guess those were the days as they say. Thank you for sharing the lustre of your pen through the imageries and colorfulness; enjoy your day.

Blessings as always,
~Gwendolyn
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 5/31/2008
John,

Images through smoke ... evokes powerful memories from the past - Pall Mall - Ronson lighters - well done.

(((HGUS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Jon Willey 5/31/2008
Memories, segments of our past. Irretrievably lost in the misty shadows of myriad yesterdays. Excellent poetry. Thanks for sharing. JMW
Reviewed by Ron (sketchman) Axelson 5/31/2008
Marvelous images..
I've lost all my Zipo lighters...
Ron
Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks 5/31/2008
John...when I saw pall mall, my first thought was of ghosts of the past...the cigarette Pall Mall. Add words as Ronson lighter, flint, refillable, the torch, liberty (as in concert "torch"), I was "drawn" more into this thought. Am I far off the mark? What ever, enjoyed this intriguing remembrance, butt with conformance freedom.
Ya got me on this one :o)
Blessings Friend ~~ Micke
Reviewed by Katie Gabrielle 5/31/2008
nice poetry!
Reviewed by Charlie 5/31/2008
Very fluid write-- good stuff. --Charlie
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 5/31/2008
Time is a killer to the soul if one but allows it . . . Even with the best defense we are prone to lament quite glibly (I go there often) about the times then and the spunk we had even as we fell flat on our faces . . . Now we have "those" later years . . . Feel uninspired and wonder if we really have anything left to say . . . Life is a bitch, a beautiful slutty bitch that we hold onto even when sometimes we should let go . . . Good, John
Reviewed by Bonnie May 5/31/2008
Absolutely beautiful and nostalgic write. Sounds like you were traveling down memory lane a bit my friend. Wonderful write, Love, Bonnie



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