In the early quiet light
pondering life’s misfortunes
and pieces of the past
lost
to evermore
Worthless treasures unburied from a long ago
tragic summers eve
preserved for a life time
left sitting on a shelf
like a faithful canine companion
waiting for the masters return
only, for not, and most likely
to be tossed
try, try as we might
we fail, to hold the grasp
sooner or later
memories fade
people and things
become lost ,forgotten
misplaced
pieces of the past
Snassano04-07-08
Time has a way of passing and bringing people and things...places...in and out of our lives...and we...in the end...must move on.
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on April 7, 2008
...again i think, the souls soft spots are a much safer asylum than the hand; lost [that word alone makes me empty and melancholic]. ..
'not all who wander are lost' [says JRR]
that last strophe could really be a poem unto itself, an island of misplaced BEings. ...and heaven forbid people could ever be lost or forgotten, left. ...left.. .. [o dear, more teary sad thinkings]
'unburied' reminds me of resurrections; insurrections of soulful things desperately needed. ... and odd how i read 'a lifetime left/sitting on a shelf' as if its more than jsut odds and ends, but a whole person, intrepidly hoping for a return of hope---of life--- of redemption-- -- i dunno---more voodoo.doll words again.
such a gripping gutted write~
> <
But we shouldn't try to move on to tomorrow, without our memories of the past...tucked safely into our hearts! Memories are our Heritage.
Too many people believe we should forget our past and look to the future, but I say how can there be a future without a past.
Totally enjoyed this poem, as with most of yours, Stan, it makes me *think*!
Cheers...
Micke
So we write what we can remember. The rest, which are dried up, we crumble through our fingers and plant like so many marigold seeds in our mind's garden. They may sprout... one never knows. --Charlie
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While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
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Cryssa
'not all who wander are lost' [says JRR]
that last strophe could really be a poem unto itself, an island of misplaced BEings. ...and heaven forbid people could ever be lost or forgotten, left. ...left.. .. [o dear, more teary sad thinkings]
'unburied' reminds me of resurrections; insurrections of soulful things desperately needed. ... and odd how i read 'a lifetime left/sitting on a shelf' as if its more than jsut odds and ends, but a whole person, intrepidly hoping for a return of hope---of life--- of redemption-- -- i dunno---more voodoo.doll words again.
such a gripping gutted write~
> <
Too many people believe we should forget our past and look to the future, but I say how can there be a future without a past.
Totally enjoyed this poem, as with most of yours, Stan, it makes me *think*!
Cheers...
Micke
people and things
become lost ,forgotten
misplaced
So very sad when it happens.