Fold marked corners
rust stained near the eye
and the too blue bleeds
into a hand-done rosy cheek
dated and faded, a moment in spotlight
there in the softer background
a smile and tenderness gleaming
across an era of life and trial
from travels, laughter, and difficult days
a glow that I saw and felt, a star burned so near
a treasure that searched for me
and I touch the paper
as if to be sure it was still there
the bent place where she held it
for when a mother loves
it might be like this,
sepia gold, time dragged edge
of past become perfection.
Author notes
Not for judging, just for the joy of it...
A contest entry
- Colours by MariGoes.
1100 points, ended July 15, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Antique Photograph by micol.
800 points, ended August 23, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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There is a good deal of joy-in-writing as well as joy-in-reading in the poem. Several of the compounds might be clearer if hyphenated ("hand-done" and "rust-stained," for example)but the poem certaily captures the feeling of looking at old photographs. Thanks for taking the time to enter.
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Nice use of the imagery of photos and how time stops for memories as it moves on relentlessly. There is an underlying tenderness in the words and images that makes the reader reflect upon his own pictures.
Extremely well done.
Peace & Light,
Tom B.
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that was really beautiful, you really know how to paint a picture.
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I share in the joyful recall of this apt poetic heartfelt author.This goes directly to the spirit of better times. Nice work.
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Old pictures are such sweet piece's of gold. The memories the hold. Always warms the heart as I say dear God look at me now....excellent write...
novy
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The softness of the color image
fades time, so the past is held
in the present, dimmed but in focus.
A true treasure, your words, PK.
Aesthete
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This one is magical . . . the color, the memory... the fold, the touch. I love the immense tenderness of the reflections found here. I am most affected by the gleaming found in THE BACKGROUND, the star glowing so near the one who was in the spotlight. Also, I am stricken by the fact that the hindsight turns brown to gold, and past to perfection.
... really, really special.
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This poem is absolutely beautiful!
Old photographs, old letters, objects left...all those things touch our memory bringing back moments we may cherish or feel sad about.
Here is about cherishing, reliving a past we so much wish to be the very present.
The sentiments in this poem are very touching and lovely.
I loved how you made the last stanza sound, creating a great and vivid picture of it.
Such a pleasant read!
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I think I absolutely hate memories. Ever see that movie, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?" I think if I could I'd undergo that procedure to wipe away all memories...the pain seems so great. I don't have to grieve over the memories of a mother yet, fortunately. I dread that day when I am able to, I'd set-up my appointment now to have my mind wiped if I could.
That sounds inconsistent coming from a fellow who has followed his fraternal line back to the late 1500's but even that gives me an odd chill at times. Ok, that sounds more melodramatic than I intend it to sound. I will now shut up on that.
It's beautiful of course, its beauty hurts, because of course I can identify with the sentiment, old relics, old photographs have that power, and when a loved one dies, that is essentially all that is left of them...I have a pair of bookshelves my dad made...that is about all that I have of him, some photos of course, about it.
I have more to say but I suddenly realize this is more about me than you, and no one wants to hear folk blab about themselves...but your poem had that kind of power. that kind of message.
And now I shut up completely. (I hear a tremendous cheers all over AP!)
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it's a funny thing, i had no intention of writing about this until i sat and thought about one of my few baby pictures, old and ragged...anyway, I am glad I got a chance to write these feelings. Thanks for your thoughts on this, i so agree it is a difficult thing at times but in the end i think we grow and we relish the memories; thanks for all...PK
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