In morning mists, I see them wade
through corridors of Time and Space
to meet, assemble in the glade.
A prelude plays.
The days when you and I were there
and other friends, love, laughter, tears.
A touch of magic in the air.
Such perfect years.
Of hours well spent, senescent streams
midst priceless piles of timeless things,
familiar forms, fluorescent dreams.
Rememberings.
I gather, too, each little deed
that spoke with crafted eloquence.
Though in my hands, they melt, recede.
Evanescence.
Too soon the tears of sadness sting.
A haunting pain - again, again!
And thunder claps, crescendoing
in longing rain.
Rich, luscious, warm, my memories
arise, enchant another dawn,
ascend a silver scented breeze
and then... are gone.
God willing, we shall trace once more
those trails with many tales to tell.
And silent, catch from phantom shores
some madrigal.
From days when you and I were there.
And other friends, love, laughter, tears.
A touch of magic in the air.
Such perfect years.
In a list
A contest entry
- Pre-Writes Only by Aerden.
700 points, ended June 19, 29 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Like it? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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I enjoyed reading this. Your imagery was great and I loved the vocabulary used in this piece. I'm not usually one for repeating a stanza in poems, but the effect of this was good. Nicely done poet, and good luck in the contest.
Josh
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This was a joy to read, a Sapphic ode (Pope Style) done to perfection. You have captured missed memories with great imagery.
All the best in the contests.
Sue
x
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I like it That was beautifully put. I love every word and every line written. They reflect and capture the emotions well.
"Nostalgia of the old and past."
They'll always be part of us. -
I was put in mind of translations of Persian poems I had read when I was in college: life was masterfully crafted by a greater authority, and moved in rhythm, as a great music.
How strange that we remember times of our lives as places, and voices, and feelings. Not as sequential reconstructions, but as glimpses. And yet, those fragments are all the more precious, like a single shard of a ceremonial bowl from ancient times. Some forlorn, some majestic, some innocent and joyous.
A life can be shut off to us, by the loss of a person or place or thing. And all we have are those precious fragments.
Now instead of the golden springtime, a silver winter. -
Excellent!
This piece is so beautiful. The rhyme and the flow are exceptional, the vocaulary is well used and the piece comes together with such eloquence. Well delivered, well told story here within these lines. You certainly have an amazing talent. I love the repetition of the second line at the end, ensuring that the years were indeed perfect in memory. Bravo! Your muse is very good to you. Write on!
My favorite lines:
God willing, we shall trace some more
those trails with many tales to tell
and silent, catch from phantom shores
some madrigel.
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This was absolutely stunning. Captivating. I love the piece in a whole. The sweet memories you describe and then the pain from thinking of them after so long, is really touching.
Thank you for sharing an amazing write =)
-Kati
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Beautiful
Perfection! love the awesome word ryme the flow nice and gentle, calm and very relaxed poem sweet
and beautiful write. bravo!
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Ahh i always love a nice story of the past. Memories are such a painful yet beautiful thing
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ahhh this was just too beautiful!
excellent penmanship -
omigoodness this is the most wonderful piece ever, its my favorite of all i've read since I've been here. Its penned so exceptional and flows just beautifully. You did capture the essence perfectly, and I was taken in...I LOVE IT! THANK YOU FOR YOUR WORK!
my favorite part:
From days when you and I were there,
and other friends, love, laughter, tears.
A touch of magic in the air.
Such perfect years.
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