Memory Lane

Garden, Swing, Wooden, Old, Fun
Pixabay

I travel down the garden path

The memory lane of my childhood’s making

Trodding o’er the stepping stones

Between Grandma’s hydrangeas

The path seems shorter now

Than when I was six or eight

I remember it having taken longer then

To reach the garden gate

The old swing seems much too small

How could I have ever fit it?

But my heart still fills with joy

As I recollect my youthful visits


Padre

Paint Chip Poetry Free Write: stepping stone, grandma’s hydrangeas

Shells of Memory: A Haibun

Pixabay

The day of my memory wasn’t on some luscious sandy expanse with clear blue waters. It was in fact a rather dreary day at Donegal Bay, and the carpet of jellyfish on the surf looked almost as if you could walk on them, they were so thick. What was amazing to a small boy was the shells on the shore, there were hundreds, maybe thousands on them. As I look back at it they were not pristine in any way. I am sure most were broken or irregular, but I enjoyed collecting them. In the end, I had a little suitcase full of them, though the case was probably not much larger than a lunch box.

Little treasure chest
Full of King Neptune’s riches
Shells of memory


Padre

Walk with me down Memory Lane

Shooting Star: A Haibun (with double haiku)

 

Dark, Darkness, Meteor, Night

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

I drove past a quiet lay-by today.  It was the same one that a couple of years ago I went to with my wife to observe a meteor storm.  The ambient light in our little town made seeing the spectacle difficult so we drove a couple of miles out of town and parked to watch the light show.  It remains a memorable experience, and even more so since she is now gone.

A flash of brilliance
Streak of light lifting the heart
So swiftly passing

You too a life-light
Giving incredible joy
But you to have passed

 

Padre

Visiting the Past

Photo credit: © Pixabay.com

The past is open to us

It requires no machine

For in our memory

We can recall what we’ve seen

 

Our lives roll out before us

All that’s come a fore

With a smile we can remember

Events we adore

 

Our loves and fond encounters

To visit in our minds

Requiring just moment

Never leaving them behind

 

So time travel is a concept

Not made just for science fiction

But a reality to us all

With just a little reflection

 

Padre

 

Inspiration Call: Time Travel

Time travel was a genre of both literature and film that my wife, Dianne enjoyed.  She marveled at concept and adored Dr Who, Time Traveller’s Wife, Somewhere in Time, and so many more.  I am blessed now by the memory of having shared these with her, and as the poem suggests revisiting the life we had together.

Unremembered

Horse, Cob, Piebald, Animal, Equestrian, Equine, Mane

Image by Penstones from Pixabay 

It was late summer and a refreshing summer breeze gently blew. The Roma family sat near a clearing at the roadside, their piebald pony munching grass as they themselves ate breakfast.  They did not hear the approach of the SS patrol from the forest, nor expect the burst of automatic fire.  They could not know of the burning of their wagon home, or that their precious pony would become the property of a Ukrainian peasant after the beast had bolted. No more laughter or music would flow from their campfires, nor would any ever again lovingly call their names.

(99 Words)

Padre

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge