IMAGINATION
Memory embellishes
or it forgets.
Pain it replenishes
with regrets.
Sorrows are carried
to tomorrows
with losses parried
by more sorrows.
But joy? As the very
wild suspense
of hope, secondary
reminiscence
leading to discovery
of splendid Memory?
There without recovery:
another territory.
Dare we ever even guess
what our Future brings?
Wanton wondrous happiness
as imagination sings...
But there the cycle begins--
just to be suspended,
Old Age inevitably wins
as happy dreams are ended.
Memory embellishes
or it forgets.
Pain it replenishes
with regrets.
Author notes
Something to consider, other than stereotypes, when you see an old person.
What does "Put username in your AN." mean?
Comments
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HOODWINKED #132
You keep us guessing, while we laugh a lttle at what you are trying to tell us. We will forget the stress and enjoy the day-today...mac
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HOODWINKED
I can feel these words in my arthritic bones. It's great that you can write about this with a degree of levity. Stay positive Terry.
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Thank you! Mean old Arthur Itis is no friend of mine either!
Both parents were arthritic: I was doomed!
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Thought provoking poem
My Mother died at 95 of smoke inhalation from a fire caused by a candle lit during a power outage (Use flashlights, NOT candles). She was in good health at 95, but I have Advanced Parkinson's -- too bad!
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In my case, only as a child did I enjoy good health. Didn't know enough to appreciate it! Beyond that, stress distresses, constant stress debilitates, and prolonged stress eventually kills, if not by stroke sooner. Cheery note!
Unfortunately there are many things the doctors cannot help.
Sympathy!
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Cyclic double clic Promise ... sing
I find Margaret's comment below as uncharacteristically pessimistic (oops ! 8 syllable word on AP). "There is a point in life where we have what we got and new things are unlikely" - no stretch of the imagination should be out of bounds.
What is Old when less than 200 years ago life expectancy for men was 40 (wars) and for women 30 (childbirth) - A great aunt of mine recently celebrated her 100th birthday after a mariage lasting 66 years and is still playing bridge twice a week and planning a trip to Paris.
Although memory increasingly plays tricks with age there is IMHO no fundamental reason for replenishing pain with regrets - as there seems to be a more or less morbid acceptance of the inevitable. Thus while imagination retains the capacity to regenerate itself the gift of wonder is ubiquitous in and through everything/person/situation or portrayal of human frailties or idiosyncracies.
The key is to cue into the causal pattern, or to cue into the key thereof and go/glow/grow with the flow so as "to take the current when it serves" dixit WS JC.
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I should really be working but can't resist NOT telling the multiplicitous misfortunes that led to such a poem.
Suffice to say 48 years of stress resulted in my decrepitude, beset with advanced forms of just about every autoimmune disease known, and some incipient as well. If I had my life to live over, there are things I would do differently. Regret? You betcha! Big time!
"we have what we got and new things are unlikely" - no stretch of the imagination should be out of bounds."
Of course. Axiomatic view of freedom. On a theoretical level, no problem. Tra-la-la and dancing!
Life is not theoretical. You'd have to be a senior-senior with unfortunate history to understand. Put it this way: with precarious health (I have had two strokes already) Imagination and Life are poles apart.
All right, suppose I, octagenarian, were to meet "someone new and irresistible?" They're out there. I am not what they are looking for.
Wildly risible as it is, it would be wise to examine why anyone would reciprocate. Not for my great beauty.
I have two, maybe three good years left if I am lucky, years of diminishing value. My small pension? (Temporary as it may be) would not entice any but the homeless. Not in the cards.
"no fundamental reason for replenishing pain with regrets - as there seems to be a more or less morbid acceptance of the inevitable."
I thought about that. Normally, you make a good point. Truly so.
However, not morbid, realistic. Consider regret for the fact of pain.
Another chance to live life over?
I would definitely still be a teacher; it was a happy choice... but--
.sesrever reven emiT
"Thus while imagination retains the capacity to regenerate itself the gift of wonder is ubiquitous"
I agree completely. It rejuvenates, replenishes appreciation, finds fun where it did not exist, lends energy to achieve what needs doing.
. . . "in and through everything/person/situation or portrayal of human frailties or idiosyncracies." All-inclusive, certainly.
Your final comment coincides with my own thoughts of the future.
"The key is to cue into the causal pattern, or to cue into the key thereof and go/glow/grow with the flow so as "to take the current when it serves"
It is what I have recently done and will continue to do.
Funny how my minimalist poem engendered such a long discussion!
Thank you for reaming out hidden facets of its meaning.
And my WORK waits patiently!
Terry
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There is a point in life where we have what we got and new things are unlikely - the challenge is to delay this point as long as possible!
Your poem about memory and speculation, joy and regret, goes to the basis of the human condition. "Memory embellishes or it forgets" shows how unreliable it is - we need our friends and photo albums to retain any kind of objectivity about our own experience. Your style of rich rhyming makes these observations timeless and personal as well.
If this was in a contest, it is not now. "Username in your AN" would be an author note of Terry-too.
Best wishes for 2009!
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