Discovered Diary (poem) by Odin odin@aflx.com on AuthorsDen

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Discovered Diary

by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com

A simple ode to the many aged New Yorkers with diaries, but no one to read them. (Image by pinterest)

Wednesday, June 16, 2021

Discovered Diary

He once wrote…

How quickly the vanishing
Where once shone the sun
Now only skyscraper shade

Horse drawn wagons
Once parked below tenement smiles
As rope baskets lowered with coins
Sent back with apples and grapes

Knife sharpening push carts
Their grinding wheels
Ever turning razor-sharp edges
Making cheap meat cut special

Tilted fedoras tipped
Atop cashmere-draped gangsters
Greeted numbers-hungry tenants
While knickered children
Ran their errands for pennies
Warning shop owners
They needed protection

Then...

Came post-war-family-building
Turning wanton streets alive
Baby strollers passed
Job hungry veterans passing
No Help Wanted signs
In slumlord heaven

How precarious his street became
Teetering between shelter and commerce
Preservation and extinction
Wrecking ball and obstinacy

Finally...

Housing Department placed him elsewhere
Nice
He guessed
Missed the old stairs though
Squeaks
Creaks
Scrapes
Sounds and smells
His special friends

Now

Seems little comfort is left
Modern whoosh of elevators
Whirls of air conditioning
Frequent ambulance sirens
Stopping below
Providing the lucky ones
With their last ride

Boredom no more

Still…

Aging men continue writing

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Reviewed by Corrine Ardoin

Reviewed on June 25, 2021

It's up to us poets and storytellers to keep that sense of the world from being forgotten. There is always the past and its lessons, its joys, to be passed on. Thank you for your masterful poem. It is very good. Corrine

Reviewed by John Herlihy

Reviewed on June 17, 2021

Like Ron, I never wrote a diary and never will. My poems and essays, I guess, are my kind of diary, so don't need to write the rest. I spent many years in New York as a student and had it as a home base for most of my life, until I finally bought a condo in Miami for retirement where I am presently living. So, I can very much relate to this fine poem.

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on June 17, 2021

I never wrote a diary. Probably the same reason I don't have a blog. Day-to-day occurrences can be rather boring. Girls wrote diaries of fantasy lives. Guys like me didn't have time to write personal stuff, we were too busy actively living.

But I have stories from memory, lots of them, and now have time to write them all if I wish.

Your stories and your poems and prosetry tend to focus on Big Apple life and its rather uniqueness compared to other places. Like Tokyo and other big cities, NYC breeds struggle and creativity, but is not a place to raise children. Those that stay there until old age, often have no one left to pass their legacy to. That includes diaries.

But once in a while, someone will find one of those diaries from a lonely person, and find that there is a plot to a life story there worth telling. Makes me wonder if you found a castoff diary from someone and got to read it.

Ron

Reviewed by Richard Cederberg

Reviewed on June 17, 2021

For you it was New York, for me it was Chicago, until we moved to San Diego when I was 12. My god, what a trauma that was. There's so much in our brains waiting to be dug out and perhaps written about. If you're good at something, it's almost impossible not to do it. And though I am grateful for the outlet of writing, what I've found in my journey, is that much of my writing is driven by some kind of pain. Perhaps it's why I share so little. One thing about getting older, is you realize how few satisfying answers there are, only stories. Here's to another productive year of writing. Enjoyed this. Thanks. rlc

Reviewed by Diana Wiles

Reviewed on June 17, 2021

Progress sometimes loses its Heart�
and all that is left is a semi sterile environment
which can appear soulless to the aged�
memories, however, can often be over emotionally
persuasive of better times�
Let the diaries be read, appreciated�
and and their spirit live on�

Reviewed by E Phillips

Reviewed on June 16, 2021

I met a nice man today. We were after the same bargain-priced computer. The clerk was trying to find one on-hand that matched the one on display. While we waited I was about to let him have the computer because he looked really old. We stopped quibbling when we discovered he was 20 years younger than me. The issue was resolved when we both discovered it was incorrectly priced $547 below its real price. I bought a different computer at a different store because...my age doesn't mean a thing to those who can read. I avoid diaries.

Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci

Reviewed on June 16, 2021

Your words moved me, Odin! I saw everything occur through them as well. A bit of a tear for his demise flowed down my cheek.

Love ya!

Jane

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