I found some notes from earlier in my life
They brought back bitter memories as sharp as a knife
How could it be that the things of that day
Would have such consequences that linger and stay?
Padre
Sharp As A Knife
memory
Events That Stay With You
There are events, deeply personal, that stay with you. These may be rather insignificant to others, but to you they are pivotal. A tiny prompt such as a snippet of a song or a chance fragrance on the breeze may call to mind a first kiss, an award, or a million other things may fill your nostalgic heart with joy. The darker emotions too can be raised as well, and anniversaries of the death of a loved one, or other personal tragedy may come unwanted at intervals into your life. These each are our individual but shared lot
The shared impact of mutual experience also stays with us collectively. There are those “where were you when?” moments that seem to unite us. In my life there have been several. I was alive when JFK was assassinated, though I was too young to actually recall it. I do however remember the death of ML King and the unrest that followed; the space shuttle Challenger explosion and the shock of it on the faces of those around me; the death of Diana and the rush of several of my friends and family to London to be part of the collective loss. I can recall vividly my headteacher coming into my classroom to tell me of the 9-11 attacks and the television images of a world in horror. Now, today tens if not hundreds of thousands of people, many of whom have queued for nearly a full day will gather for the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II. Her death is one of those defining moments as well, an event that stays with you.
Padre
Memory Lane
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
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
Strawberry Memories
Photo by Oleg Magni from Pexels
She tasted like a memory sweet
Was that strawberry upon her lips?
Like the ripe fruit we shared while picking
The luscious juice from her chin drips
Teasingly removed by my tongue’s flicking
Was that strawberry upon her lips?
Or was it just a dream?
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: “she tasted like memory” [used as a beginning rather than an ending]
Shooting Star: A Haibun (with double haiku)
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
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
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
Padre's Ramblings 