Posted: Thu Sep 9th, 2010 01:48 pm
1 st Post
Most things are known your whole life.
Like table salt. How it tastes the same now
as it did the night your father screamed
at you to leave his room so he could die.
A glass of water. Walking barefoot in wet
grass. The absence of light gathering
in old family photo albums. So simple.
How an early morning autumn pulls
the air right out of you. Almost like
reading a whole poem with one breath.
Enjoying every word, one word at a time.
You have known most things your whole
life, yet it takes an event, some occurrence,
for you to believe them to still be true.
That even after we die, geese will return.
Because, like you, they must do what
they were born to do.
Posted: Fri Sep 10th, 2010 05:55 am
2 nd Post
This poem was very, VERY deep, but at the same time I couldn't analyze much of it at all.
That, for me, is the sign of a truly remarkable piece of writing.
However, I do know what you're getting at in the first stanza, and I can relate to it. Not that my father's ever tried to kill himself (knocks on wood)...but there have always been certain smells, sounds, aromas, tastes, etc. that remind me of the truly potent memories of my life. So that hit close to home.
Posted: Sat Sep 11th, 2010 04:23 am
3 rd Post
Thanks for your look at my poem.
My dad wasn't thinking suicide or anything like that...he was just old and died. And I think even with his Alzheimer's, he knew it was time.
"...but there have always been certain smells, sounds, aromas, tastes, etc. that remind me of the truly potent memories of my life."
I'm glad this hit home for you. That's what it's all about.
Posted: Sat Sep 11th, 2010 07:12 pm
4 th Post
I found this poem very comforting. It reminded me of being in the mountains.
Thanks, and continued successes!
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