Reminiscences of better days that used to be. We take pleasure in recalling those days that radiated happiness and nostalgia. With recent movements into the future a lot of the memories that we once cherish are washed away by new and different approach to life and what we deem to preserve. Sad but we have to flow with the tide eh! Profound write Jacob. it brings to mind the true realities of life.
Posted 5 Years Ago
5 Years Ago
thank you for your insights, and kind words, kitty
j.
So sad, but written as though you were watching
a sunset fading across the memories that will
return with the sunrise one day at a time.
Beautifully rendered with the scent of
blossoms shared... poetically typed on an old Underwood.
truly, Pat
Such a sad heartfelt piece
with such emotions spewing forth..the ending sheds the final sad tear yet beautifully poetically stated ..typing ones heart into another's..
I was reading fine, until I reached the final lines,
"i was no longer the one
who held the letters of your
poems
or the hands
that used to type
your heart into mine."
it's when Your heart completely pulled, though while reading the previous lines in the poem You already know that it's about sadness, memories and yearnings, but the powerful poetical expressions, the powerful talent You have of composing emotions into words, leave no room for the reader when they reach that part. majestic poetry and emotions, Thank You dear erin*
Your allegory immediately sets the scene of a dusty old attic or den with little light and the blind drawn. I take it an Underwood is a typewriter? The picture you paint is such a forlorn one and the images such as the dusty rectangle where the note one lay gives this a very sad voice.
Love it, great imagery giving the feeling of pain still relevant even after so much time has gone by with the dust and the under wood, it always comes down to the words in the end.
Such melancholy and heartbreak in this one. The one who left....the one we still write poetry for even though that one will never read the words...or care. Love the mention of the Underwood.....I had one! Good write. Lydi**
These old loves haunt. The sitting room...the Underwood wearing that coating of dust with that small rectangle left when you picked the note up, folded it tenderly and slipped it into a pocket. A wry smile as you take a chair at that desk in your mind and lovingly stroke the keys of the old Underwood.
There is a premise lately...one of a sense of longing and nostalgia.
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..