Life Lived

Life Lived

Artwork by / Andrew Wyeth

 

 

 

life lived

bequeaths to us

more than wrinkles and gray hair

more than aches and pains

forecasting a probability

of rain

 

it exists of hand crocheted blankets

and grandchildren,

with past generations of heroes of war

all in matted frames

sitting atop a Steinway piano

gathering dust and a funeral of tears

of life lived

 

an accelerating loss of memory

abruptly intercepts the coming of golden years

depleting all recognition

of once familiar faces

now  stoic

by the inventory of a stare

 

years accumulate like winter snows

and i buried deep

in its repose

 

of life lived.

Reviews

[Laz K.]

"life lived
bequeaths to us
more than wrinkles and gray hair"

It is a profound realization when one really comprehends one's mortality, but at the same time the fact that inside the mortal frame there's something that transcends that which decays and dies.

I agree with the many commentators below expressing their admiration of the vivid, deeply touching imagery present in the poem.

[Kelly Scheppers]

That's more than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Laz!

[carl]

I found your words of review very meaningful and encouraging -carl.

[andrew mitchell]

Lovely work Kelly. I read your comment on if we could age backwards. No! No! Imagine losing all your life skills, experiences obtained going back to knowing nothing, doing homework, getting told off by your parents , losing your lover, kids, house and memories to wake up with a nappy on crying. It would be like suffering dementia backwards. There’s always a catch or fine print on what you wish for. Going back to your poem all we can do is try to age gracefully, except the limitations and live the moment which you have so eloquently said.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Thank you, Andrew. Always a pleasure having you here!

[Lorry]

How apt, like winter deep, and I buried deep in its repose. I think we're on our 8th false start of spring and in the midst of Arctic temperatures again.
Add to that the lockdowns and accompanying thought and memory loss and I wonder if my thoughts were ever mine to begin with and trying to have a conversation is now something I had to revise for.
Amongst the strangest of memories, where people pop into mind unaged, like a picture of Dorian Gray that only makes me think I am a painting stuck in an attic somewhere.
I would look to see what the probability of rain is for tomorrow, but I already know it will be of the frosted flakes variety.
Funny how summer is a season I only now remember from childhood, but funny in a not funny way.
At least the aches remind us we're alive Kelly. That and the rattle when we walk from all the pills that make us sound like walking maracas. 😊

[Kelly Scheppers]

How wonderful it would be if we could age backwards, or pick an age where we wish to remain! Something to think about while those temperatures fall, my friend. Thank you, Lorry!

[Lorry]

I would pick six years old. Everything is funny when you're six and I remember thinking I'd giggle to death at that age. It was also the first time I fell in love with a girl at school that gave me a biscuit from her packed lunch every play time and the most wonderful smile. I let her catch me all the time when we played kiss chase. 😊
Life was easier back then. W even thought we'd get this life lark right. I'm still waiting for that to happen 😊

[willweb]

A beautiful poem that winds its way softly about the mind. Each life lived is its own unique story, decorated with the scenery of the memories held and the dreams fulfilled. There is something very comforting about this poem my friend. Love the photo as well.

[Kelly Scheppers]

You are most kind, Will. Thank you for your presence here, always enlightening me!

[W. Barrett Munn]

I’m not sure I can explain this but at your best you remind me of marianne moore in what I can only term a plainspoken poeticism. It is fancy in its unfanciness which makes it wonderfully yours.

Winston

[Kelly Scheppers]

You know I had to google her, right? From what I read of this modernist poet, I feel most flattered by your review, Winston. Thank you so much for your kindness of words, of which I am forever grateful!

[W. Barrett Munn]

You should Google and read “An Octopus “ by Marianne Moore. The poem is available on the web for free. A hint: it was written about a glacier.

Winston

[W. Barrett Munn]

Some have considered her as the greatest of all American poets.

Winston