Memory
 

Some
kind,
of strange day;

matters
are scattered,
every which way.

I
can't,
speak for the,
wind that,

blows through here;
with its,
savage roar, and

hungry jaws.

scours
as,
it glides, takes
away
what it hides...

....impudent breeze.

I read that as impotent breed. haha.

Wow! Nice poem, Dana. I like that phrase "impudent breeze".
You have inspired me to make my own humble offering on the subject of memory.

Memory

I drive up toward Glade Mountain at dusk.
Below me the Dolores River keeps
calling my name, reminding me
of past sorrows.

A sudden patch of ice on a switch back
recalls me to the present –
tires skittering perilously close
to a 1,000 foot drop off
a free fall of memory
that I must stave off by being PRESENT.

Oh, what is time, anyway?
A construct made by some physicist
that has no meaning to me.
I am always late for my own life –
if I show up at all.

The setting sun blinds me
and I shade my eyes to stare
at the distant mountain ranges –
There’s Lone Cone, those are the Abajos,
that’s the Wasatch range
and I almost lose the road again.

Memory is such a heavy weight.
I wish I could have mine erased,
but I got the present erased instead.
Be in the NOW!

A mountain lion dances out of the woods,
stops for a split second, fixes my eye
with its own cat’s green stare,
then it is gone.

I reach the Glade and build a fire of juniper
just as the darkness sets in.
I want to stay here forever.
Just me and the fire, and the lion, and the cliffs.

It comes to me then that I must make peace
with my memory –
accepting both present and past.

I drive home in the dark
only getting lost once.

I like that. I like the idea of making peace with your memory.

lol v. funny.

MY mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour--
'Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May--
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

That's so lovely. I haven't come across that poem before.

Yes, skysidhe, excellent. :thumbsup:

oh hey guys! :)

They are unique and hadn't seen it before either DanaC. Here's the link. There's lots of lovely poems you and Bruce can wander through.
http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/poem-ab.html