Category: memories

A Foreign Memory

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The sound of an Oud moves a foreign memory to the fore of your mind as you walk through the streets of a foreign town as a foreigner.

They look at you with different coloured eyes, yet you look at them with the eyes of a person unseasoned in the ways of the world.

The smell of Rose Water, Orange Blossom, and mint tea reminds you of another memory from before you were who you appear to be now.

A market tempts you to buy material possessions you thought you would never own, as something about the items takes you back.

The touch of a warm breeze moves your legs towards a place of Olive and Oleander, as the memory becomes a reality and you know

why you came to this place.

Ibrat

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Different opinions,
ways of living life;
too much water
under the bridge.

Unable to visit, not
wanting to see him;
he’s not the Father
you idealised, loved.

Years passed, water
passed, life passed;
no time felt right to
go and visit, talk.

You felt it before it
came; a knowing;
a death too quick
for you to digest.

He danced with
death deliberately
on his own; no time
to give anyone time.

You made your peace
with him on the telephone;
he said he has beautiful
children, then the guilt.

Another Ibrat for you to
understand, to learn from;
sitting here looking at
his box filled with ashes.

Australian Landscapes

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Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moon lights part of the way.

Bronzed grass lines the streetscape,
this land is crisping under the sun.

Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
as a lost memory emerges, & forms.

Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moon lights part of the way,
so I walk to the end of the street.

Black sky, big stars, a bright moon;
the hills sit in luminous shadows,
no cows moo at this time of night.

Bronzed grass lines the darkened
hills flowing beyond the shadows,
to remind me of other landscapes.

Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
reminding me of the landscapes
of my life and how the landscapes
of this land changed me over time;
how this land’s landscapes change.

Joyful Song

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Another candle burns down and spills; the electric lights would spoil the mood.

Another flapper dress bounces and someone else does the dancing.

I’m sitting at home, cool as a cat, relaxing in fine haberdashery; I wait only for the cat.

Another cloud bursts like his heart burst when someone shot him a year ago.

Another dead soldier for the cause, though I wonder if it is all worth it.

Another set of thoughts race by as the emotions of widowed bliss set in, consume the atmosphere and keep the cat from venturing over.

Another record set up to spin as I dance with his pillow in our joyful song.

Forest Spirit

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https://www.deviantart.com/miriteval

A smile from ear to ear,
as the young one ships through
the forest searching for playtime.

Monstrous trees do tower,
and the feeling of them bending
inwards is a very odd feeling.

Odd feelings pass, as her
favourite tree approaches, or
she approaches her favourite tree.

Strange, as always, she asks for
permission before climbing
this familiar one, her safe one.

A flicker of movement out of
the corner of her eye
piques her innocent curiosity.

Feeling as though she now has
permission to climb, she climbs
the tree steadily, full of life.

Sitting in her spot, she looks
down and sees a boy, yet not a
boy; maybe an elf, forest spirit.

Calm, she watches as he walks
away; she calls to him, yet he
never turns towards her, gone.

She comes to visit this spot hoping
to catch a glimpse of him again,
and to see her friend the tree.

She hasn’t seen him for years,
yet her daughter just pointed and
said, “A boy Mumma! A boy!”