History repeating itself, itself, itself...

History repeating itself, itself, itself...

A Poem by Beccy

I passed by a strange vexation the other day,
a place with more than a dozen crossroads
and couldn't decide which way to go,
then I spotted a sign that said,
'Lost Victories this way.'
It was weather beaten, 
part hidden by lichen;
even so, it intrigued, 
so I followed.

Eventually I came to an ancient potting shed,
where seeds languished in dried up 
containers. 'Old Memory plants,'  
pronounced one faded label,
'forget-me-nots, another.
I couldn't really tell the
difference, but there 
was no attendant 
I could ask.

I paused for a while, made myself a pot of tea,
wondering why there was no attendant,
that perhaps the water had drained 
due to high midsummer heat 
over the copper coated hills,
but in my own device
it was guesswork,
like a blind man
with no stick.

So I decided to water the seeds, 
a pyrrhic victory of sorts. 
Then went home 
and waited;
I am still 
waiting.

© 2019 Beccy


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Reviews

Intriguing poem .. I often contemplate over these emotions you have descriptively written, look over the past can be tempting to chase old dreams and exciting to chase after new ones and to find parts of our old selfs maybe buried or forgotten . Love this .

Posted 4 Years Ago


Intriguing poem .. I often contemplate over these emotions you have descriptively written, look over the past can be tempting to chase old dreams and exciting to chase after new ones and dad to find parts of our old selfs maybe buried or forgotten .

Posted 4 Years Ago


Just looking at your title and then considering that in conjunction with the poem, I feel like, in some ways, this is a musing on the idea of how we have no ultimate guardian of history or the past which leads us to keep repeating the same foolish mistakes. All of these things are as ambiguous as free will. There is all of this space where we are left to judge for ourselves and so often our judgments can lead to selfish choices.

I like the idea of the past as a kind of collection of barren pots. Without any idea how long the seeds have been languishing in that dry soil, it is very difficult to know if action will be helpful at all, but we do tend to want to make the effort or lay a claim--depending on who we are. If there is a chance that something can be reaped from an action, often the human animal can be convinced to take the trouble of trying.

This is an intriguing poem. It offers possibilities. Much like the scenarios we face each day in our lives. Some will be fruitful and others will be ignored. Some will lead to a destructive outcome and others will lead to something less easy to define. But, we have no way of knowing what the future will bring. Only of observing the past and trying comparisons. Or simply pausing to consider. I really enjoyed this, Beccy. It made me think of a combination of Robert Frost and Derek Mahon. Which is a fine mix, in my opinion.

Posted 4 Years Ago


This is a brilliant & original allegory that conjures up many possibilities for different readers. I love that your storytelling style "sounds" like the typical allegorical phrasing, but you use details that really POP! and this makes your style unique & fresh. I love the flower names & the way things are left hanging at the end. I'm a fan of stories that are not overly resolved. Sometimes you just have to lead a reader to some lookout point (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 5 Years Ago


Zeus tortured Prometheus for stealing fire from heaven and giving it to mankind. But the only thing a god can give to man is patience...And there is an almost photographic patience with humankind that you polish throughout this poem. Seeds represent patience, in fact, it's the proof that what will grow from there planting, can be so thoroughly examined. See Robert Frost..
You write so beautifully.....dana

Posted 5 Years Ago


This is enchanting in every meaning of the word.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Title stole my thoughts and I liked the thoughts and journey shared in the poetry. I liked you water the seeds. Thank you Beccy for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

Posted 5 Years Ago


Ancient potting sheds do hold a lot of memories of
love that was left unattended... love that was alive and vibrant
in the spring and summer. We learn and stumble...
we bloom again. I love your poetry. truly, Pat

Posted 5 Years Ago


Beccy,
Interesting narrative poem. It would seem much of life is "guess work." Especially when my stick gets tangled up with another's stick.
I like the way you visually structured your stanzas. I would really like to hear what generated this poem. Thanks
T.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Beccy

5 Years Ago

Not just neighbours, but every race, colour and creed on the planet; and not so much the human heart.. read more
kentuck14

5 Years Ago

I think some days my brain runs on the wattage of a night lite!
Beccy

5 Years Ago

Modern thinking has it that the internet is stultifying our imagination and our search for knowledge.. read more
I am very intrigued by your poem...

We are creatures of habit even when it is one that is not productive.

Posted 5 Years Ago



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Added on February 17, 2019
Last Updated on February 17, 2019

Author

Beccy
Beccy

United Kingdom



About
I'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..

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