MEMORIES OF THE HEART

(I wrote this, 11 Aug 2011, thinking of my Life's Journey as a course with a beginning, middle, and ending, with each port in the course full of joyful and sad memories that I hold close in my Heart, each port in the course holding its unique essence—the whole making up the phases and faces of my Life.)

*** MEMORIES OF THE HEART ***

MEMORIES laced with Joy and Love tease,
as if having a tendresse for my Heart.

A smile of remembrance countered,
a faint melancholia, not wholly concealed.

TOO SOON Spring's Essence
so lush with rainbow delights,
melds into Summer's threshold.

Fall's Bounty yields a Harvest resplendent
at Winter's Tranquil possession.

The course complete—now
only MEMORIES OF THE HEART.

[dht-2011]

---------------

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

[Photo Notes: CAN YOU FIND ... ?
Look closely at this photo to see if you can find
an elder male in Winter's shroud,
a grim reaper,
a young girl in Spring's delight,
a youth taking leisure,
5 shy Spring observers,
5 shy Winter observers,
a village,
some ships,
and two in a boat.]

WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE

(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 –
they recede.

How strange it seems
they happened Just As Quick
in their Time.

Now replaying those moments
over-and-over,
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!

[~dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE:  GOOGLE online images]