(I wrote this, 13 Jul 2011, in a gray frame of mind, all too frequently occurring. The "good times" in my life so far removed and their memory fading, seemed to go by too quickly. Only now as I re-play those favorites, do I feel I was not prepared to savor the precious few bright and clear moments. With misty eyes and wet checks, I try to recall happier times, despairing at the barriers that the 'bad times" cloud with melancholy. SPECIAL NOTE -- My own writing offerings, I call " The Unrhyme Prose Poem Style". It is often serious, whimsical, thoughtful, fanciful, full of shadows and light, and of course Nature (birdies, flowers, and such).
"Which of us, in his ambitious moments, has not dreamed of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical, without rhyme and without rhythm, supple enough and rugged enough to adapt itself to the lyrical impulses of the soul, the undulations of the psyche, the prickings of consciousness?”
[~ Little Poems in Prose, Charles Baudelaire])
The days at times are shrouded
in unremitting shades of gray.
Dark shadows obscure
the corners of my life.
MELANCHOLY is as a shroud
that allows only gray scales of color –
NEVER the rainbow
rues of LOVE, JOY, HOPE, BELONGING...
The edges of memories blur –
their shape and texture mute –
with a blink of the mind's eye –
How strange it seems
they happened Just As Quick
in their Time.
Now replaying those moments
thoughts drift through Barriers
NOT even Time's Gate Keeper can Deny.
The vast darkness
so dense at times,
the light cannot invade the Expanse
WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE!
[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]