My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: memories

The Mad Dash

For all of us
are contained
between that dash—
our births,
the way we suckled on
our mother’s teats,
our first steps, and first
words.

The many times we
walked to school.

Our sins,
our achievements,
the memories
of who we loved.

Our many vices
and frailties,
our deepest failures and
our greatest triumphs,
the many people
we touched.

All this crammed
between the date of
our birth and the
final date of
our demise.

Golden Memories

And,
that golden leaf that fell,

marks the change of a
perfect season
of warmth.

each lost leaf I find
becomes a memory of myself.

New Flowers

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You said to me, “that the past is all I have.”

I responded:
Memories are like fragrances
We never forget.

I look forward
To smelling new flowers
I haven’t smelled yet.

There are beautiful gardens I haven’t strolled through.

A wise man said,
“Life has more to offer than you’ll ever know.”

Repository of Well Kept Memories

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I met a man yesterday—
Happy, effervescent, proud.

He cracked jokes like one
Cracks pistachios with
Salty fingers in
One’s mouth.

He told me he liked to
Gamble a little,
And drink a
Bit of whisky,
And that his Father
Helped him to roof
His sunroom addition.

I told him, I’d bring him a
Bottle of Bourbon, have a
Few drinks and
Shoot the breeze
With him.

He was born in
December of 1941,
Three days before Japan
Bombed Pearl Harbor, invaded
Wake Island and landed in
The Philippines.

He has a grand stretch of
Land—and has stories for
Every parcel found therein.

People store their campers,
Sail boats, and personal items
There.

His daughter was storing her
Possessions, because she just
Went through a traumatic
Divorce.

Michael was storing his dilapidated
Sailboat. He wants to fix it up
One day and sail the
San Francisco Bay and
Perhaps live there too.

I’m storing my pop-up camper,
Because my twelve year business
Finally collapsed.

What Jerry really owns is a,
Repository of well
Kept memories.

They’re like ripe grapefruits
Jerry grows on his land—

“Ready to be picked”, he told me,
“some are bitter, some are sweet.”

Fireflies, Remind Me Of Those Warm Texas Nights

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Do you remember Krum, Texas
Darling?
The children then young and us
A burgeoning proud family who’d
Just bought our first home.

As fireflies lit up the damp
Dark skies and how we chased them in
Our backyard. Running and reaching
For the burning little fires as one
Reaches for the stars.

I close my eyes once in a while…
I can still hear the noises of our
Gleeful children screaming in delight.
Fascinated by the
On and off again lights
Those frilly bugs gave us,
So bright against those
Long Texas nights.

Remember,the first time we saw
Those June bugs
Flying wildly
Towards
Our
Front porch.
Like kamikazes
Zeroing in on
The warmth of
Our 60 volt bulb.

Or the songs those crickets
Sang at night. Serenading us
To sleep. While we slept together
Wrapped in the warmth of our love.

That blanket was all we had back then.

We gave to our children as they
Rocked in their beds. How we danced in our
Front room to songs from that gilded voiced
Crooner, dressed up in our fancy clothes
We were younger then, passionate lovers
And friends.

I planted roses for you
And you gave me beautiful
Flowers, my children instead.

Oh, those youthful days playing
Hide and go seek or chasing
Wild turkeys in our neighborhood.
Walking our Kids to school and
Watching my dad make his victory soup.

Those are the memories I remember
Of Texas my dear, you and me together
Back then, the making of a wonderful life
I lovingly hold like fireflies in the jar of my heart.

Memories

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Salient peaceful pictures
are resting on my whitewashed walls.
Reminders of memories that I adore.

Reflected light, creates sacred shadows
penetrating through semi-open
window shutters.

Contrasting darkness
with the sun’s bright rays.

Do we understand impartiality, by
black versus white, or light versus dark?

Like a lonely scribe sitting by a worn
wooden desk:
day after day and night after night.

The poet writes his poesy
on a plain white page.

Selecting meaningful black inked words
and delicately placing them
where they belong.

The contrast is eternally there—
dressing the white luminous spaces
with blackened
recollections and verbs.

Those salient
Peaceful memories are
conversations found within
my walls.

Altamont Pass

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On our road trip
we pass the
Altamont,

Straight up hill
the engine chugs
along.

This route leads
to the Bay
going Westward.

And the
Valley
going towards
the East.

It’s a landmark
that as a child
I still recall,

the giant
windmills
standing
oh so tall.

White markers
that harness the
wind;

some are
ferociously spinning
while
some stand
quietly
still.

They’re sandwiched
in between the
yellow ochre earth
of the rolling
California hills;

and the
infinite
cerulean blue
of the cloudless
Western skies.

When I spot them
I’m happy inside,

whether they’re
turning or not,

it makes no
difference to
me.

As they’re
like sentries;

that guard
my childhood
memories.

Cherries

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When I was but a lad-
my brother once said,
“Have you ever had ripe
Delicious cherries straight
off a tree?”

I know an orchard by the road.
The cherries there-they’re like gold.
Plump, juicy and deliciously round.
“They must be worth ten dollars
a pound”

I’m going there with some friends.
If you want to taste the best cherries
In town-
then come with us and I’ll show you how
They are found.

Off we went all three of us boys, to munch
On cherries a few blocks near our house.

We got to the orchard surrounded by a fence.
In order to get to the best ones we had to jump
over and run our very best. my brother warned, “if
someone approached- we best run like hell, because we
We were trespassing on someone’s private property”

I nodded yes and off we went- to the nearest tree
climed it and got to the top. The cherries were so
Juicy and sweet- just like my brother had previously said.

When we were finally gorged
one of us spotted a
man running at us-full bore.
In between the shouts of, “get out!”
I jumped from the top, landed
and began to run as fast as I could.

The fence was a good
hundred yards from
Where I was. I never ran
so fast in my life…
One by one-
We hopped over the barrier out
out of breath “happy I made it”
we all nervously, said.

at the time it wasn’t funny-
because we feared for our lives!
But now that I’m older I think back
At my little adventure
and grin at my childhood memories.