mandag den 11. september 2023

Poetry Monday :: Remembering

   Poetry Monday er en udfordring, hvor Diane fra On the Border er vores vært.
     Dagens stikord er
Huskeog jeg føler mig gammel og gnaven. Nu er du advaret!

-- 💡 -- 🕯 -- 🪔 --

Remembering is the theme for today. Remembering earlier days makes me feel old and grumpy. I think I need to apologise, Read at your own risk!

Poetry Monday is a challenge, hosted by Diane at On the Border.


I remember being tiny all years were so fun
I remember good things happen, justice being done
I remember snowy winters, summers balmy hot
I remember angry people, thieves that all got caught
I remember being places where you did not aught
I remember it was funny until it was not.

I remember biking through my town and all the land
I remember swimming, then relaxing in the sand.
I remember sailing in a storm with mighty waves
I remember nature's wonders in the dripstone caves
I remember when adventure always ended well
I remember being helped if you dared to yell.

I remember being tiny, grown ups were so tall
I remember asking them, they seemed to know it all.
I remember getting wiser being in the know,
I remember disappointment not so long ago.  
I remember realizing grown ups were not gods
I remember they and truth were often-times at odds.

I remember when you were allowed to take a pause
I remember when the monster was a thing from "Jaws"
I remember being young, and pain a passing thing
I remember when the world turned new with every spring.
I remember when the world was big and beautiful
I remember everybody feeling dutiful.

I remember real people answering the phone
I remember when the good things seemed like set in stone
I remember when the papers told of things to come
I remember Sunday's candy, always storing some
I remember picnic fires, bread on sticks and jam
I remember fishing, catching garfish and a clam.


I remember far too much and far to little now
I remember lukewarm winters, not a trace of snow,
I remember lousy summers, rain and fires reign
I remember rotting apples, mouldy, sprouting grain.

I remember insects swarming on the windscreens smeared
I remember empty flowers and I'm feeling weird.
I remember kids not playing glaring at a screen
I remember grown ups scramming, nowhere to be seen

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Next Monday: Cheeseburgers!


6 kommentarer:

  1. Svar
    1. Yes, old people all over the world share the same memories, I'm afraid.

      Slet
  2. Things change, or maybe we change, or both.

    SvarSlet
    Svar
    1. I hope both, even if I find that some changes are to the worse.

      Slet
  3. Not a poem from me, but I remember growing up in a small town where most people knew most other people and I could go to the beach or library on my own and be perfectly safe, I could ride my bike all over town, go anywhere at all as long as I was home by sunset. That town is bigger now and probably doesn't have the same feel. I remember when I left thinking I would never go back. I have visited my sister who still lives there, but I will never live there again.

    SvarSlet
    Svar
    1. Same here. But I once saw an interesting map. It showed the paths my (hypothetical) grandparents, parents, me, my children , and grandchildren would travel alone to go anywhere - the distances get smaller for each generation, for my grandkids they are like maximum ½ km. where for my grandparents it was like 8 km - this is valid everywhere, in the capital, big town, small village, as in the countryside. I fopund it scary.

      Slet

Jeg bliver altid glad for en kommentar, og prøver at svare på alle kommentarer .

I am grateful for all comments, and try to reply meaningfully to all of them.