My mind is full of golden gems,
Of long lost days, when smiles were real
And blue eyes, twinkling, soothed the soul.
Such days, when love was used to heal
The hurts within, from tactless words.
The ones not meant to maim or harm
But spent in anger, soon forgot,
Then vaporised in peace and calm.
My thoughts move on to scents and sounds,
Of Milk Floats, rattling in the dawn.
The faintest smell of cocoa left
From bedtime drinks, with curtains drawn
And images of burning logs
And toasting toes upon the hearth,
While Beatles shout 'She Loves You, Yeah'
And Flower children, 'Mother Earth!'
Those storybooks of Rupert Bear
And Enid Blyton's Famous Five.
Those glory days of naive dreams,
When we were thrilled to be alive
And ran amok with all our friends
Til we were grown and turned to love.
Kissing in the back row seats
While movie screens played far above.
Then later, joined in partnerships
And raising children of our own,
We watched our precious world evolve
Into a place we'd never known.
Out-dating our imagination.
Purging solid sense of self.
Finding all our best ideals
Are firmly placed up 'on the shelf'!
And castles built, by family men,
On rarities like faith and trust
Are torn apart by morals crushed,
In hot pursuit of wealth and lust,
While spouses fight and snipe and wound,
True loyalty, worn paper-thin.
The family, once a sacred prize,
Now simply there as 'next of kin'.
As years go by, there's little left.
Familiar, friendly, world is gone.
Anxiety becomes the norm
When those, who cared, are left alone,
And children leap, before they've grown,
Onto the path of parenthood.
They've not yet learned to build a life
Nor to sacrifice for greater good.
I watch, with sad and bated breath,
The tragedy of our values lost
Unfold in every selfish act
With no regard for future cost.
They want it all! They want it now!
They want it handed on a plate!
I want to warn them of their plight
But clearly I am far too late.
All sense is lost - Awareness numb.
There's nothing left to build upon.
It's every person for themselves,
While greed and envy have caught on
And grown into a thriving trend
That feeds each frenzied, upturned hand.
Discarding all those moral truths
Past generations understand,
Til finally, I watch no more.
It's clear that I cannot assist.
I close my door, sure in my mind,
The world I loved does not exist.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Regis
very well written poetry.
Sandie
to open next...more inspiring...the Olmsteads
oil "Waiting"...gives a lot of hope...
Many Blessings!
I find it being alone is invigorating for my thoughts. I have learned to love it.
Ron
a bit nostalgic but never boring
masterfully told by one who has lived it
without rancor or rewrite, and done so very well.