memories twist in my mind
swirling memories so painful
i beg God to help me not remember
and i think sometimes that dementia
though a thief, would be a welcomed relief
from wounds revisited, relived
from dull pain twisting in the gut of my soul
they say to forget the past.... who are they?
i'm still struggling to find a way to forget
sitting alone with my thoughts, and my pain
i've realize even my greatest joys
have been tempered with great sorrow
all my dreams deferred until other times
at the whims and/or needs of other people
while i drown in a whirlpool of memories
i have struggled and prayed to forget
and i try to decipher my own part in them
my own fault in them, was i compassionate
or a coward, too afraid to break free
from those things i knew would one day
become pain swelling, twisting in the gut of my soul
so again i mourn the years, the lost years
the rose cheeked hopes that died in infancy
aspirations stabbed with daggers of manipulation
the love squandered, the respect never proffered
and i vow to forget the past, for it is past
or can it ever really be over and forgotten
with its bitterness still in my mouth, its poison in my soul?
i mourn the years and cannot seem to lay them to rest
Peace and love are when and where we choose to make them by defining what is worthy of our mourning and what is not. Excellent observations as we all search to find our own way to peace Belle.
IT'S ALRIGHT TO MOURN...THAT'S HOW THE PAIN OF 'THINGS' WEAN. JUST DON'T STAY THERE TOO LONG. GRAB A HOLD OF FAITH AND LET HIM PULL YOU UP AND OUT OF THAT PLACE. WELL DONE, LA BELLE! THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE,BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
In this piece you have become the mouthpiece for those of us who are burdened and heavily laden by past problems and regrets, needing a place of rest. It's as though your words were written on the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, put in a bag, thrown into the air, and then fell to the ground into some orderly fashion we all can relate to. This is such a wonderful, thoughtful piece, and I wish I could claim ownership to it, but I must leave it alone and hope that God will bless me with such quality in my future endeavors.
Perhaps, and I say this with much hope and little knowledge, that when we arrive in that grand spiritual place, we will discover what our lives here meant. Perhaps it was meant to be, just as we lived it, Not in condemnation but to confront and to overcome different passions and obstacles. Once we understand, the pain and the anguish will almost certainly recede into the past, and we will move on with greater clarity, vision, and purpose. Your poem illuminates much and tell us of a brave soul.
A melancholy and meaningful trip down memory lane, recalling regrets and sorrows, a journey that we all take once in a while, La Belle Rouge. You probe quite deeply and with an honesty that is astounding. Very well expressed indeed. And I like the title which suits very well. By the way, check out my poem Ode to Sorrow posted many months ago. You might find it interesting in light of this work. John
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
This book is an autobiographical account of the lessons I learned about life and how I was able to apply them to inspire, motivate and empower others in my own work as a firefighter, as well in my daily life as a husband, a father and a man. When I w
Share
Print
Save
Follow
hug
Kathy
Always,
Deborah
Walt
David
Dan
Unique the vision so vivid. Lovely image.
Lady MaryAnn
Love ya!
Jane