What's Another Word For It?

Musings...ponderings....inspired by Duma Key by Stephen King

 

What is it...

the memory?

When one sits,

and thinks...goes

through these

cobwebbed vaults

called mirror memories.

 

How is it contained?

How it it purged?

 

I don't remember being

a baby. I don't remember

being brought into this

world.

There's quite a few things

I wish I could call back into

focus, but with age...

 

They say, whoever they are,

that memories are friends

made throughout time.

I don't like to think that

way, because not all memories

call upon smiles and laughter.

 

If I could paint...

 

I would paint with

vibrant oranges,

like fire spreading

across a blank white canvas.

Why are canvasses white?

Why not pink, blue, yellow?

I digress...

 

I would paint the sun,

a rainfall, a tea cup

sitting on an oval table

with a mini storm brewing

inside it.

 

I would paint what I cannot

put to words. I would put

this memory thing

to the test. To see

if it is reliable as I like

to believe.

Maybe I would paint these

things to know that

I really lived the life

I have.

Reviews

[Gandré]

first we wish to live just another frame... like a carpet, to see first just purple-red, then we seek inside their medallions and find the profound message, we like to turn back. This was playfully opening spaces those, where I usually don't like to go. "I don't remember being

a baby. I don't remember

being brought into this

world." ===== this is so interesting. i remember my origin. Daily I train my self to go there. Thanks for this sweet poem. (and for yr review.) Good to see you here again, I mean it.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Not all canvas is white but gesso; made from calcium carbonate, is. Like this.

[alan khan]

really really interesting work. great job.