Transformation

A glance into my own life..

Days turn to lives
And years into yellowish, brown leaves.
Time can take a full stop when it wants
At some old, familiar places
Where we no longer live.

On a depressing and misapprehended afternoon
Invisible crows bark and Unknown birds squeak.
Lost, long familiar noons each as similar as the other
Were lived here in peace and futuristic search.

Baudelaire and Steinbeck are companions today
With the wonderfully smart Mac.
Their were days when I had no Mac's or
even dreams of owning one.
Poetry was a jumble of words
Only to read after intellectual stimulations
When smart friends were around.
Times when Isla Negra did not mean Black Island to me
and Neruda was a name and a book in father's book shelf.

Oh how I miss those ancient days,
When morning coffee was served by mom.
Dad used to hide beneath newspapers
but still managed to introduce me
To the world of Camus & Kafka.
Human Psychology was a household world
And my girlfriend could be one of my crushes.
Ever loving and caring sister always used to be around
With her stoic madness and insolent whimpers.

Today I sit here and endure the bites of the resilient mosquitoes
And ruminate about the past.
What all things I had but never realized
How even monotonous could be a favorite word.
Of how even a pillow and a blanket
Could remind you of the sunny past.

Perhaps I had not seen the world.
Perhaps I had not known you as much.
Perhaps I had not written my first line of verse.
Perhaps Life had not been mean as such.

Everything today is a continuum of the past.
Familiar sound and familiar touches.
I am getting back into the exoskeleton
Of my half million year old past.

© Nothing Personal. December 29, 2010.

Author's Note

I have used the word "past" multiple times, deliberately. The last line of the fourth stanza is oxymoronic in its sense, it means the opposite to emphasize the emotion. "Isla Negra" is a collection of poems by Pablo Neruda.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is a trip to my past too. Those old memories of comfort in a warm house with a dear Grandmother taking care of me and sister. Age teaches us to be thankful for all the kind people in a life. I like the story you weaved in your words. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

Well written! Brilliantly written on past! The imagery is excellent!

[Stacey]

Glancing back at your life can be daunting and liberating! Fantastic thoughts on reflection. I like the questioning stanza:) When I reflect the questions are what haunt me...perhaps it's because in all the years that have passed I still have no answers or even something that resembles a possible answer. Wonderful write ~ I enjoyed the read very much,

[Goodbye]

This is such elegant self-reflection, so very well written and expressed with beauty.

Excellent, excellent work - I felt like I was caught up with you in your thoughts.

[Poetic Beauty]

Reminiscing about found memories when we are younger is always delightful if the memories are delightful and as we get older we can laugh at the annoying sister and constant parents with their routines. This poem gives us a peak at what life was like when the narrator of the poem was younger and plants a calming feeling.

[HopelesslyDevoted]

wow, this is extremely impressive, i can always relate really well to your writing cause you actually think about things intensely and write about what you think without worrying what other people think. this is really good, i think its one of the best poems that you have written so far.

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Deep reflection on life. I enjoyed this stroll down memory lane.

[Moonflower]

This is one of my favorite pieces from you, the last lines were perfect...Outstanding work, I loved the smooth flow and warm mood. Extremely well written.

[.]

an nostalgic introspective look at our lives ..when it all so simpler then..an interesting and clever piece of writing..insightful

[Stef Outsiders]

I am getting back into the exoskeleton
of my half million self

I love those lines... you've written this amazingly well!..

[Brian W. Hastings]

I am getting back into the exoskeleton
Of my half million year old past.


That is a great couple of lines. The rest of the poem- of course - is exceptionally written and just screams multiple meanings throughout.