Reposting of an oldie.. with tweaks and polishing included...
Treasures
I lay them before me
upon memories' canvas,
those scattered moments of life's significance
strewn haphazardly in comfortable clutter....
musty scents of morning
embracing bayou songs,
lingering taste of cherry snowballs
teasing in summer's abandon,
whispers of an autumn breeze
brushing past the fading chords
of zydeco dreams, and I smile...
for these are my scarves and my rings,
my tucked away heirlooms, my gifts
and my treasures.
But it is the muted portraits that give me pause...
the not-quite-right colors of hesitant brushstrokes
and the blurry edges of moments
etched forever in imperfect remembrance.
I guard them jealously,
these fragments of fading visions
for I fear their loss and the darkness
that waits beyond painted horizons
of my memories.
I wonder how long it will be before
the brush falls and I paint no more?
I reach to touch this canvas,
these treasures laid in scattered comfort
and I wonder if my scarves and rings
will be enough.
Perhaps I will not miss the muted portraits
so much after all.....
So wistful and introspective. The idea of muting that occurs as time puts its patina on our thoughts. There is a sort of sadness that comes through spite of the positive tone of the poem. Like when you throw off the bad thoughts at the end. Treasures is a winner, for sure.
"But it is the muted portraits that give me pause...
the not-quite-right colors of hesitant brushstrokes
and the blurry edges of moments
etched forever in imperfect remembrance."
I love this. The unfinished brushstrokes of life. A few things left to the imagination and wonderment. Some of them somewhat wickedly grinning at you, daring you to finish the canvas.
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
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...that usually I phrase...with brush.
Cheers moi spp,
D
G
Ron
the not-quite-right colors of hesitant brushstrokes
and the blurry edges of moments
etched forever in imperfect remembrance."
I love this. The unfinished brushstrokes of life. A few things left to the imagination and wonderment. Some of them somewhat wickedly grinning at you, daring you to finish the canvas.