Memory Poems
Afterglow
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was an artistic, floral designer, intoxicated by the sweet-smelling blooms,
Like magenta butterfly swarms, at a standstill, intoxicated by floral fumes.
Gold days were full of my bloom designs, each one so original and unique,
Just as none are aware of vague, opaque thoughts, before we soon speak.
I worked with vibrant, live blooms and dried; silken ones and velvets, too,
Just like the myriad variety introduced, when azure skies tire of being blue.
But I longed to make that lasting impression, with an outstanding creation,
......
War Is Never Over
by Cecil L. Harrison
War is never over
Thought the treaties may be signed
The memories of the battles
Are forever in our minds
War is never over
So when you welcome heroes home
Remember in their minds they hold
Memories known to them alone
......
Sun
by Michael Palmer
Write this. We have burned all their villages
Write this. We have burned all the villages and the people in them
Write this. We have adopted their customs and their manner of dress
Write this. A word may be shaped like a bed, a basket of tears or an X
In the notebook it says, It is the time of mutations, laughter at jokes,
secrets beyond the boundaries of speech
......
Shadow Of Prejudice
by Maurine Fergueson
Don't you wish the shadow of prejudice would lift off the earth
And evaporate into infinity, out in unbounded space
Where it was hurled
Taking with it the power to influence all human kind.
The we would truthfully charge an abuse, each single Time
Then only the blind could see and feel
What is a disguise and what is real
It would take the touch, or the memory,
To spot the enemy
Gentle feelings we have tamed not to surface
......
Better To Try And Fail Than Never To Try At All
by William F. O'Brien
Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
Go all out for your dream.
Life can be lived either way, but for me,
I'd rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.
Some say "Don't ever fall in love,
Play the game of life wide open,
Burn your candle at both ends."
But I say "No! It's better to have loved and lost,
......
Afterglow
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was an artistic, floral designer, intoxicated by the sweet-smelling blooms,
Like magenta butterfly swarms, at a standstill, intoxicated by floral fumes.
Gold days were full of my bloom designs, each one so original and unique,
Just as none are aware of vague, opaque thoughts, before we soon speak.
I worked with vibrant, live blooms and dried; silken ones and velvets, too,
Just like the myriad variety introduced, when azure skies tire of being blue.
But I longed to make that lasting impression, with an outstanding creation,
......
One Velvet Evening
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Tranquil, pearly moon arises, at the tangerine end of the memorable day,
Just like the ones we knew back when, until golden time was swept away.
Dressed up people laugh somewhere, very eager for a night on the town,
When the resplendent moon is wearing, twinkling diamonds in her crown.
And far-off planets are peering, in the vibrant hues of blue, beige and red,
A sign peaceful night is already dreaming, like hued flowers in their beds.
The breezes have grown gentle, from a continuous roar, to awed whisper,
......
A Memory of the Park
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
At the pretty park, the amber sun was shining,
As I sat among the orange blooms of the June,
Berry blue sky and lake looked to be entwining,
As sunset paused, in its hued, dreamy cocoon.
Joyfully, I watched redbirds and butterflies play,
In one of life's flawless, spontaneous moments,
Myriad and lovely, coming once, and going away.
Allowing to memory hence, precious fragments.
A Grandpa's Studio
by Robynne Eller
In a land beyond the sea,
Rooted beneath the earth,
Lived a wise, white lindworm.
Within his grotto could be found,
Life's trinkets and treasures to greet the weary traveller.
At first, his precise position cannot be drawn by the eye,
But instead the timbre of striking keys and scents of shades and spirits.
In the innermost of this inky pit, sits an empty canvas,
Perched proudly on its pedestal, illuminated from above.
My presence revealed, the lindworm nudges me a pallet full of pigment --
......
Nostalgia
by Scott Biggerstaff
Glory he only knew in retrospect -
a life misremembered,
time's gentle mercy
insidious slow poison senescence.
He's doubled over in reverie -
photoshopped recollections,
swapped sense of self,
Change's open wound embrace
ignored.
......
