Tag Archives: Memories

The Sun also Sets

The morning arrives just in time
As does the memories sublime
Mornings again sings the lifetime
Memories hammer home, wartime

It’s really bad reliving my youth
Over and over again, the truth
Memories reborn needs no sleuth
Inflating the birth pains of losing Ruth

© 2012 Michael Yost 3/1

The Think Tank Thursday #86-Rebirth

Poetry Picnic Week 26: Seven Deadly Sins

May I wonder aloud?

Like the song, I ask where all the flowers have gone.
Where are the people that were part of my life growing up as a babe and young boy?
I know the answer; they have slipped away into a memory
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.

Next the teenage years and a lot of the same people are there; but there’s new ones too.
They were priming me for the new adult life and the first loves of a teen.  It was happy anxiety.
Those people and the girls have all slipped away into memories.
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.

As a young man the 7 seas were going to be my home and I married a young lady to keep my house.
We had one child and finally four growing up and out of the home.  They all have a spouse of their own.
Those children raised me!  The wife and I drew apart and the family all slipped away into memories.
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.

Aging as people do, I found a few friends; the kids were all far away and I turned to writing as an outlet.
Nothing was ever published, but that didn’t matter; the writing was for my benefit, no one else’s.
One day the Doctor told me I would soon lose my memories and after a while I would finally die.
So now I write even more of my memories, so I can remember them; so I should be happy.

© 2012 Michael Yost 2/7

We’re going deep this week over at Trifecta, where we’ve been tasked with using the third definition of ‘deep’ from the Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary in a story of between 33 and 333 words.

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – # 87

Trying to Make Scent of it

Cut grass and ozone lifting off the asphalt
Floods the mind with memories
Each distinct with different feelings
With so many at once I sit, from reeling

Too many to separate them all
Words, thoughts, feelings and images
All together rolling down towards the puddle
Laughing, crying and stunned, most befuddled

I can’t imagine all this trouble
Trying to sort through all this rubble
Each pointing their fingers, finding fault
From the scent of cut grass and ozone lifting off the asphalt

© 2011 Michael Yost