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

[Theodore]

another great piece of art rereading this a must for me.

[roarke]

Great imagery and inviting reminisce. The past is always woven in. I found the last two stanza's to be apart from the previous ones. I felt it broke the ambiance of the revery. It's good to take time to realize the good and influential that became part of one's life. I enjoyed the journey, it touched my own memory threads. thanks for sharing.

[Jeff]

Wonderful look into the past with sense of longing! You really opened up and showed the world your mind.

[Nautili]

Very thoughtful.I like the nostalgic memories of a simpler time, but we are changed by life and literature, and although we cannot go back to those times when life was not so complicated or perplexing, it is a journey of growth. it is evident how much you have grown into becoming a fine young man with many deep thoughts and ideals.... And fathers are notorious for hiding behind something, television, garage, work, newspapers. It is that "man cave" thing.

[Kerry O'Connor]

A very introspective piece of prose poetry - the last two stanzas do a great job of rounding off all ideas contained very effectively.