Toddler Prepares Necessary Soul Experience Pieces
a mind invoking so many rich memories
remembers strange pull in click recordings
scenes capture photographs now long past
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Pull
Summertime came too soon,
Summers in kansas often do.
And the air was still,
I felt the pull.
I recall the heat rising from the ground in a way.
And I knew I was the first to pass this way.
I believe I step across some line,
Or I stumble through the doorway in space and time,
Like a drunk who blacks out from the wine,
Never remembers his name.
Always feel so alone,
Wherever I am I feel the pull,
And the life Ive left behind the pull.
And in case I have no future, Ive got the past
Theres no telling just how long this play will last.
I believe I step across some line,
Or I stumble through the doorway in space and time,
Like a drunk who blacks out from the wine,
Never remembers his name,
Never remembers.
Im down, walking through a storm.
I hear a voice inside, crying,
It calls my name like a judge accusing,
Black robe hanging down, whoah,
Dont forget be brave about your love.
Well I walk across the murky room,
And theres flashes in my eyes,
I dont know what Im doin.
Like a drunk who blacks out from the wine,
Never remembers his name.
Like a drunk who blacks out from the wine,
Never remembers his name,
Never remembers his name,
I never remember my name.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Far Memory.
I’m haunted by strange memories
of places I have never been
I can remember vividly
Street scenes I know I have not seen
It’s very strange and puzzles me.
I cannot see how possibly
I have access to memories
I know do not belong to me.
I see street scenes from long ago.
Though where they are I do not know.
The clothes are unfamiliar.
To me they seem peculiar.
I think it may be Budapest.
But honestly that’s just a guess.
It could be almost anywhere.
But I am sure I’ve not been there.
My wife suggests telepathy.
I do not see how it could be.
A temporal anomaly
which can’t exist apparently.
The learned experts all agree
it’s an impossibility
But can’t explain how I can see
Scenes from the eighteenth century.
I have a photograph which shows.
People in old fashioned clothes.
Which was taken in old Moscow
More than a hundred years ago.
Establishing the verity
Of the intrusive memories
The scenes I see so vividly.
Though how remains a mystery.
I know they are real memories.
Although the experts disagree.
I hope to prove eventually
these memories have reality.
They are passed down genetically.
Encoded in our DNA.
I will research my family tree
and try to prove it come what may.
Although it’s just a theory.
I will pursue it ardently
Some body in my ancestry
may well turn out to be.
A man who lived in old Moscow
Who emigrated to the west.
Although perhaps I’ll never know.
It gives my life an interest.
I like to think that there might be
somebody in my family tree.
Who will prove to be the key
which will unlock the mystery.
Of who perhaps I used to be
in the eighteenth century.
Which would explain the memories
apparently passed down to me
Saturday,21 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tippity Tap
Tap Tap, Click Click
On the train
Leeds To London
Click Click go the mice
Strange Tunes from phones
Is there no time
To kick back
To take time
To enjoy the ride
Worker drones drone on
Click Click
Ring Ring
Work appears to end
Beer & wine from the trolley
Relax time
Work time
Travel time is now
Other times
poem by Jason Palmer
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Photographs
Photographs,
My youth I'm visiting.
As I smell the trees
And hear rivers sing.
Fragrant Summer scent wafting
From bygone flowered rambling.
Photographs,
Of outrageous laughs.
As we danced the new year in.
Lanced the map of fate
With a pin.
Wearing foolish hats,
I miss
Being two coolish cats.
To capture and frame forever
Bright coloured rapture
Before souls would sever.
Our minds picture black and white today.
Like morning yields
To night lights in the bay.
Photographs,
Of stars burned out,
Of suns now set
That spurned rainbows with drought.
Memories are all that are left to revere.
One snap of one love
Before dewdrops disappear.
poem by Kevin East
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Dead Boys Poem
The child sits and weeps,
How could this be all that matters,
Why did this have to hurt so deep,
How could this be life?
The child sits with the pain inside,
He sits with his heart in his chest,
‘How could I have died? ’
Is all he thinks, he forgets the rest.
The child’s eyes closed so tight,
His fists clenched so strong
He feels the night,
He knows everything that happened was wrong.
The child stands and looks into the houses light
He stares at not the window,
Not at the sight,
Yet only for the weeping widow.
The child stands holding the gun,
The gun he died holding,
As he remembers his father killing him, his only son
He remembers his father scolding.
He knows he took a life,
Yet he knows his father took his,
He remembers not the taking of his father’s life,
Only the pain of his father stealing his.
His eyes so dark,
His mind so lost,
His hand tracing deaths mark,
As he remembers it’s cost.
He remembers the scene, the time,
He remembers the look in his father’s face,
He remembers doing the crime,
He remembers seeing the pain in his father’s face.
But then his memory stops,
And reality takes place,
For this is when he dropped,
This is when life left his face.
He walks past,
To eternity; to roam
Of all his memories this shall be his last
For this is the dead boy’s poem.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
I wait for the next opportunity to have something to do with food. If I get rested, my mind just starts creating new dishes - click, click, click.
quote by Paul Prudhomme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sarah Is Princess For A Day
Sarah would be Birthday princess for a day
she would have her "Special Krendoll Island Birthday"
even her stuff toys would join in on the fun-
a birthday party celebration had just begun.
Jewels galore would be on her dress
she would blow out the cake
that never made a mess.
For it was a cake that had an electrical switch
Sarah would light up her birthday candle by
going click, click, click.
Now I have photos of her Princess Days…
Sarah all happy when at a very young age.
May the memories of Krendoll island
have a Special place in Sarah's heart—
Melodie doll and UniCandle unicorn
are never far apart…
They are a part of the childhood days gone past
they are happy memories that are sure to last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 26,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Capture It
The crashing seas
A box of bees
Capture the Crashes
Capture the Buzz
A skateboarder's stunts
Simply having fun
Capture the Stunts
Capture the Fun
First day at school
First swim in the pool
Capture the Uniform
Capture the Ripples
There's an Image for Everything
Every Occasion
Capture the Image
Capture The Moment.
poem by Rachel Marlow
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Sarah Is Princess For A Day
Sarah would be Birthday princess for a day
she would have her "Special Krendoll Island Birthday"
even her stuff toys would join in on the fun-
a birthday party celebration had just begun.
Jewels galore would be on her dress
she would blow out the cake
that never made a mess.
For it was a cake that had an electrical switch
Sarah would light up her birthday candle by
going click, click, click.
Now I have photos of her Princess Days…
Sarah all happy when at a very young age.
May the memories of Krendoll island
have a Special place in Sarah's heart—
Melodie doll and UniCandle unicorn
are never far apart…
They are a part of the childhood days gone past
they are happy memories that are sure to last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 26,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Clickity, click, click
Clickity, click, click
~
The number of clicks
Those little groups
To which were forced fit
Into the adult world
No more bestest friends
Like a Childs playground game
Long since put to rest
In the pretence of professionalism
Into the workplace we stroll
And those clickity clicks
Outsiders kept at reach
Beyond the context of the conversation
Are we all in the playground again?
Grown up kids clickity click
Little games bestest friends
Don’t like the newbie, kind of strange
Doesn’t fit in, not this place
Not so much the childhood innocence
More the shame of adult ignorance
The way of work and at rest
How its still all a playground game
Pick your team clickity click
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Glimpses
I strain my eyes, peer through the clinging mist
My mind can conjure up strange fantasies
surrealistic unrealities
I know are not real, but they still persist.
Perhaps in fact somewhere they do exist.
false copies of forgotten memories
arising when and how they please.
They have a power I cannot resist..
Sometimes I comprehend the scenes I see
and other times I do not understand.
Impressions pass me by so speedily
Their rate of progress I cannot command.
I sense a strange familiarity
With things I glimpse impressionistically.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Ill Prepared Fisherman
Poets rarely capture stray thoughts
harvest eluding another mind taught.
Thoughts always fly fleeting past
without a pen to capture line cast.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The thing is, it really did take us too long to get these recordings done. We've had our rough times in the studio in the past, but after four weeks most of the material would have been recorded. This time it seemed like it just goes on and on.
quote by Ed O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The clock is clicking
The clock is clicking
It is clicking to show just then
A time span of one second
Has become the past
The clock is clicking
Each click means a step
Towards your progress and growth
Optimistic wisdom says
The clock is clicking
Each click means a nail
Onto your coffin
Philosophical wisdom says
The clock is clicking
Each click means the arrival
Of a child in India
Population expert worries
The clock is clicking
Each click means the committal
Of a crime
Police personnel observes
The clock is clicking
Each click means a travel of 2.5 km
In space of the earth's surface
Astromer estimates
The clock is clicking
Each click means a change
In fortune of an individual
Astrologer announces
The clock is clicking
Each click means the admission
Of a heart patient
Health specialist heaves
The clock is clicking
Each click means the drain
Of my battery
The clock cries within
The clock is clicking
Let the clock be clicking
Let any one have his or her inkling
Let us be lively and kicking
Let nothing stop us becoming a king
The clock is clicking
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Chronicles Of Nostalgia Part 4 Nostalgic about Stupidity
Images flash by
I feel like I might die
All those times... all those mistakes
Memories of a time past
Some memories you wish wouldn't last
All this makes
Me feel confused... so many its hard to even think
Of them.... it takes awhile for the pain to go away
Once it starts to sink
In deep and on this day
I get this feeling
I can't sing
New nostalgia born each day
New memories good and bad today
And forever
What a pointless endeavor
To try to escape
this cage holds my memory here
Strange to me it is that, I don't know who to call my dear
It's all quite strange, lost in my stupidity
That's me
poem by David Knox
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Memories
(words & music by bill strange - scott davis)
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories
Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maverick
He remembers the backstabbing laughter.
And the heartfelt pain.
He remembers the innuendoed gossip...
And the slander done to him,
Still within him often remains.
He remembers his loved ones...
As some withered and died.
He remembers crying alone,
With no one to confide.
He remembers his struggles,
With aches in his body that persisted.
He remembers failed relationships...
With those who could not resist,
Communicating nothing but lies and conflict!
He remembers all of it,
And sometimes with a hidden bitterness that sits!
He remembers what it took,
To get released...to become unhooked.
With faith and a stick-to-itness,
Feeling as if dragging cinder blocks on each foot.
He remembers once being called a maverick!
And how today...
His maverick ways,
Bestows upon him a happiness...
Chartered by conviction.
And nothing he read from 'how-to-do' books.
Or afflictions of limiting restrictions.
Could he do it 'all' over again?
Probably not!
And why would he choose to?
To prove what?
And to who?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moving Pictures
The slowly burning logs inspire.
Half forgotten memories.
Moving pictures in the fire.
Recalling scenes from the past with ease.
Other times and other places
Recollections from long ago
Of the friends I used to know.
Where are they now? I cannot say
Our paths diverged and we lost touch.
The glowing coals make my thoughts stray
and I remember far too much.
The things I did or did not do.
As I recall the past anew.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Precious Memories
Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger ever near me
And the sacred scenes unfold
Precious father, loving mother
Fly across the lonely years
And those old home scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appear
Chorus:
Precious memories
How they linger
How they ever flood my soul
Then, the stillness of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold
Repeat chorus
Tag:
Precious memories
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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