Simple things trigger memories;
A song from a wooden recorder
Played by a visitor
Brings back a memory,
A song, from a summer's day past.
A tear brushed away
As sweet memories rush by.
Every now and then
A smell in the air, like now.
A smell from so long ago...
No name left to give it,
A shadow of a memory
Hidden, overcrowded
By wave upon everlasting wave
Of new knowledge, crashing
Haphazardly against the imaginary walls.
Foam, like bits of memories, flying through the air
Landing, joining, to drown again
Until something, a smell, a touch, a sound
Rescues it from it's watery grave,
Pulling it up from the dark depths
Of useless facts, of names and faces,
Leftovers from discarded poems and thoughts.
A sadness, a deep, sudden sadness
As the memories intertwine
One bleeding into another
Creating a bigger picture, a window,
The view of a childhood long gone
One thing leads to another
Like a song from a wooden recorder.
Author notes
I wrote this at a writing convention today. The instructor told us to try using senses and thoughts to make a poem. I liked this one a lot, so I hope you did too.
(And if you were wondering about the 'wooden recorder', he was playing one while we wrote. Very distracting, actually.)
In a list
A contest entry
- Give me your prewrites!!!!! by Nereida Nightshade.
450 points, ended February 19, 2007, 101 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
I tried making the pieces fit together, but do you think it sounds choppy?
Comments
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Oh very good and I imagine a acrostic this long was diffcult. I do love it, very beautiful poem. Its so old world almost as wierd as that sounds. Very good thanks for entering and best of luck!
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Astonishing
WOW sis. This is so deep, and so honest. As I was reading it it was sparking old smells and sounds from my own memories. This was and AMAZING poem. I brought me back to places I haven't been in years. Your use of words couldn't have been better and it flowed beautifully.
"Rescues it from it's watery grave,
Pulling it up from the dark depths
Of useless facts, of names and faces,
Leftovers from discarded poems and thoughts."
I loved this metaphor. Brillant my sis. BRILLANT.
I loved it and I love you!
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