"207 Olde Aerin Way..."

Seems the world is a place of pausing because we must - even and especially when we really don't - want to, at all.  Where do people - go?  When they just aren't there anymore - where?  There are so many bits and nothings lost along the ways.  Travesties of life(and)times no one remembers and yet no one really forgot - just no one to remember to forget anymore(s) - evermore(s), forever(never)mores.

Where will you be - today, because tomorrow never comes and yesterday is already gone... soon to be lost?  And what will you see when you - pause and take a breath?  And who will remember ...you?

"207 Olde Aerin Way..."

I've seen old country houses -
abandoned to time and ghosts...
overgrown -
lost "Once Upon A Time" thoughts

hopes... dreams that went 'bust'

or perhaps the remains - remnants

...of people that went 'POOF'
- gone -

to everything and one that once was.

Bricks, mortar...
broken casements

gaping windows looking in
as the darkness gazes out.
There be blisters, tears
the sounds echoing the years
untold and unheard - seen and found and

lost again and again.

Gray peeling and oft cracked
posts - bits and flotsam

shattered and scattered - slats

- memories of proud white pickets
ghostlets - gleaming and marking
given back and back
and back yet again -

a dear woman's folly
a proud man's - sin.

Trees with a tire,

gnarled and aged and bent

twisted with purpose

remembered? - with hope
...til forgotten in the silence

of just the creaking strands.

Chris

 

Author's Note

feel free

Reviews

[sharonlee]

Thoughts scatter... like dry leaves in an Autumn wind... as all things begin so they can end again...

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Makes me wonder what will become of my home when I'm gone. Will these walls still hold the memories of happy times and sad? Will the laughter of my children and grandchildren still be present? Will the cries for my dead daughter be heard? Will someone lovingly take care of my garden? Will people be frightened by the ghost that appears on the basement wall went it is painted? The ghost of my son's artwork. Will the house continue to tell our story. Will it have a new story or just go into sad disrepair?

[wyrd]

I walk past an abandoned home and your poem perfectly describes the soft sobbing of the wind through broken windows.

[Meghan]

You really had me up until your last line. There were such powerful images and ideas, written in this new and strange format, a jerkiness of rhythm, and then there was this just sort of colloquial description in the last line.

Usually I hate poetry with text formatting for a visual effect, but in yours, I really felt its necessity.

I really want to emphasize how this piece had complete control of me for the duration of its reading. Usually when I read amateur poetry, I scour it for syntax errors and critique it heavily while reading, but it never even crossed my mind with this piece. I just read it.

Anyway, that damned last line! I might be the only one who thinks so, but it could be greater!

[J. J. Nightingale]

I returned .. to Your poem .. I had no words to comment .. but now I have found a few ..

Maybe If I did even one thing with Love, a little bit of Me will be remembered .. In all those hearts that come after ..

Blossoms are scattered by the wind and the wind cares nothing, but the blossoms of the heart no wind can touch.
Yoshida Kenko quote

Another thought provoking write Chris .. ... Thank you .. Jazz
Jazz :)

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

Perhaps my favorite yet.

You paint pictures which evoke strong emotions. Emotions stored in forgotten or hidden places. And yet, when I feel that emotion finally fully forming.... halt!...
the cadence changes.

Start over again with each change of rhythm. Somehow I find myself reading, then re-reading again. Quite a talent you've made of this technique Chris.

[olla]

wistfully bittersweet..

[Marie]

They're just gone...and nno one remembers...a poet can now and again give these ghosts life...

[Ruth]

Where does it/they, even thoughts go?

"There be blisters, tears
the sounds echoing the years
untold and unheard - seen and found and
lost again and again."

This particular part threw me into reflection....so haunting, so tear inducing....

You balance the ebb and flow by prefectly treading the water of an ocean cradling time with all its joys and sorrow and everything in-between...there is such recognition within your work, always! As though a soul aware of their path, aware this is all a lesson...and with humble laughter, that soul can enjoy fragile moments again...

xoxo

[Beth Winter]

Sometimes people simply vanish, sometimes staying in touch is too difficult or life becomes so complicated that something has to be pared away. Just because they disappear doesn't mean they don't care or don't remember.