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Memory

by Walter Jones (Age: 71)
copyright 07-14-2011


Age Rating: 13 +

I look out my window and what do I see
The ghost of yesterday coming for me

Lead in the shadows of yes and now
Drift from the waters of here and go
Love in view and hate
Want and need will have to wait

Off in the dreams like the wind
Come to the valley again and again
Little we know
From dark horses to white
Kiss of the heart glow of the light

I look out my window and what do I see
The ghost of yesterday coming for me

Into the wailed eyes of poets and fame
Solid brass rings left in the rain
Aces and highland all stay
Willing devils and angels stop to pray
Banshee left to find on her own
Takes all of faith left to dance and roam

I look out my window and what do I see
The ghost of yesterday coming for me

Shallow pools of late
Wishes and sunshine
Rivers of fate
Esters of gray and blue
All are the ashes
That remain in hue

I look out my window and what do I see
The ghost of yesterday coming for me






Visitor Reads: 811
Total Reads: 846
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        08-25-2011     Frank Fields        

Ring a bell, ope the Book, light the candle. Even these aren't enough hold the ghost at bay.

After some few readings, the single ghost will do quite nicely. More is invitation to madness, that is sure.

Did I mention that I liked this work, also?

        08-25-2011     Frank Fields        

just checking, here, is all.

Frank :)

        08-03-2011     Frank Fields        

I very seldom make comments on your wording, usage, etc. Is there but a singular ghost in yesterday's past? Fortunate that person. I, unfortunately, have so many ghosts of yesterday and all clamoring to be in the present, sometimes I think an army is following me. ^_~

Frank :)

        07-21-2011     Alan Reed        

One never sees the rivers of fate unless and until it is much too late. Not to worry master in pen, yesterday may chase you but gets bogged down in the fen. Catch you she won't but you have to pretend. For the ashes are you and the legacy you send. Prettily place them on the river's bend, hopefully upstream - more leisurelier to defend. No hint of prolixly, no orthography to pursue. A piece carved of quartz polished like all that you do.

        07-19-2011     Frank Fields        

This, I think, one of the finest works of yours I've read so far. Very often, though, I think the ghosts of yesterday are arrived. But that may just be an old man's fancy. Let us hope than when they do arrive, they come accompanied by the Valkyrie, who find us worthy to pick up our sword and shield, that we may sally forth to fight the good fight, again. And again. And again....

Frank :)

        07-18-2011     Mae Futter Stein        

Hi Walter,
That is a very nice poem you wrote. I like the rhythm and the words very well. I didn't know you could write one as well as this one. It gave me great pleasure to read "Memory". Thank you for giving me the chance to see it in type.
Mae

        07-14-2011     Raja Sharma        

I look out my window and what do I see
The ghost of yesterday coming for me

The truth universal felt, acknlowledged, and confessed, but irretrievable moments of yester remain lost in oblivion however hard we endeavour.

A poet weaves a web of imagery and comes out with an almost precise image that is easily perceived, shared, admired, and felt by the readers.

How beautifully you say:

Shallow pools of late
Wishes and sunshine

Your metaphors are always so unique that I am compelled to dwell longer than I would in most of the cases.

Highly admirable, Sir

With regards
Rajasir



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