memories

posted for tate's parent/grandparent challenge

 

 

 

 

painting courtesy of etsystatic.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pockets of night acquiesce to snippets of day
shower water attacks ringlets of hair
while memories stick to my brain
like wet sand to feet
emotional scars scream out
their cries garbled by water
senses and memory honed
i hear your breathing touch your cheek
smell your perfume
the rondo of your sonata body surfs past my ears
it’s true
my soul is forever soaked
with mommy memories

Author's Note

I was the caretaker for my mom for many years. Memories of our times, happy and sad, are with me every day.

Reviews

[Distantview123]

A dear friend of mine has just lost her mother to Alzheimer's, after years of caring for her at home, so I can relate to this. Powerful and eloquent, and full of inventive imagery. I am familiar with some your work, Lydia, from another poetry site. Hope you are well. ~ Robert Haigh.

[Lydia Shutter]

Robert, I am thrilled to see you on this poetry site! Thank you so much for finding me and reading my words. Your comments mean a lot to me. Lydi**

[Distantview123]

I have just re-joined this site, after years away from it. I hope to stay here and post more of my poems. I also post at Writer's-Network. ~ Robert.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree with the poem. Smells can take us to good places. Funny how a simple thing or action can bring back a missed person. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Lydia Shutter]

Memories can be sparked so many ways. They are always with us. Thanks for the lovely comments. Lydi**

[Tom]

Some beautiful wording in your poem and the adhesive simile comparing memories with wet sand clinging to feet is delightful ! As indeed in context with the poem, the sand can be washed off in the shower but the precious memories will always linger.

Exquisitely penned Lydia !

[Lydia Shutter]

Thank you very much for you kind words, Tom. Lydi**

[Inspiring Writer]

Lovely powerful write written by you, words're powerful and showed some deep meaning in different different forms. Expressive write.

[Lydia Shutter]

Thank you very much for your comments. Lydi**

[fireblossom]

Lovely. Your description brings the truth to light. We children have various emotions whenever we think of our parents. When we are often in their presence those emotions stay active. I hope your time with mom was good for your heart.

Your poem smells of that shower. Intimate and conflicted. A very good poem.

[Lydia Shutter]

Oh, yes, the time I spent with my mom was precious...and I will never regret it. Thank you for your heartfelt comment. Lydi**

[Laura]

This is a beautiful tale of the bond between mother and daughter, one experienced by many, but one that you took and turned into a fantastic, raw poem.

Your description of your many memories is seemingly simple, but the words are incredibly touching.

This is fantastically written, and very beautiful. Great work!

[Lydia Shutter]

Your comment touched me deeply. Thank you very much, Laura. Lydi**

[gabrielle]

every school break, my mother would made us take care of our bedridden grandma. it was hard as my grandma needed to be taken cared of like a baby. but then, she was the one who take care of us when we were young. she deserve all the cares of her grandchildren, who took turn in taking care of her.
i could truly well-relate to these lines:
"i hear your breathing touch your cheek
smell your perfume
the rondo of your sonata body surfs past my ears"

[Lydia Shutter]

You will never regret the time you spent helping your grandmother! What a lovely comment. Thank you for sharing your experience. Lydi**

[Sanober]

Your mommy memories bring tears to my eyes, Lydi. I feel the raw ache of your words. Memories are comforting...and yet so cruel. Especially when you remember the happy times. Yes...your soul will forever be soaked with her memories...and i pray they will bring you more solace each time you remember them. Beautiful, my friend.

[Lydia Shutter]

My mom was so important in my life. I know you are a family person too....and that's why you "get" this poem. Thank you once again, Sanober. Lydi**

[h d e rushin]

i can feel the sunburst of my grandma here, forever scolding the little boy dana who had to have
his hand on everything. I still have the photograph of her cheek nestling mine round halo on loves
parhelic circle. I imageine, if time is linear as they suggest, that I cannot have become anything
at all without those moments; without my soul being forever soaked in those compelling memories.

this is a wonderful poem.
dana

[Lydia Shutter]

What a sweet memory you shared here, Dana. Thank you for the lovely comments. Lydi**

[Angi]

Caretakers are often overlooked when a family member needs help. The job is neverending, until the end. My mother is taking care of my gramma. There is good and then there is bad. My mom keeps telling me that she doesn't want me to have to take care of her when she is older. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. (I wish I could help her take care of gramma, but she is in another state.) I hugged her fiercely and said I wouldn't have it any other way. I will take the good and the bad if it comes to that. This short piece sums it up, Lydi. Nicely done. Angi~

[Lydia Shutter]

You are a compassionate soul, Angi. You can see what your mom is going through and I understand why she says she does not want you to go through it. I do not want my son to experience what I did...and yet, I do not regret a single moment. Thank you for your warm comments. Lydi**

[Angi]

I see how hard it is on her. My gramma is not the same woman she was. She is angry and bitter that her body is failing. She takes it out on my momma. I understand why my gram is the way she is. Old age snuck up on her and stripped her life away. Her house had to be sold, so many of her possesions have been scattered, her husband has died. My gram just wants her life back. My momma understands, too. It is just so hard. Hugs, Lydi.

[Lydia Shutter]

Yes, it is very difficult....and emotionally draining. While caregivers such as your Mom and myself do it out of love, it is still a LABOR of love...and it takes its toll.