All who have come into our lives and left,
     have taken us with them and we of them.
     Though these are parts of which we are bereft,
     they've left within the imprints of a gem.
So priceless are the memories of when
     They crossed our five bridges to leave their mark
     Upon our hearts, adorning time called Then,
     That one mere thought of Then inflicts a spark:
A subtle rain, or storm of lightning arc,
     Across the carpet clouds in skies of mind,
     Flash long-gone faces smiling, glint or stark--
     These gem imprints in imprints left behind.
Although we are long broken, set apart,
In memories we'll always be one heart.

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

This gun thing on the news it scares me so,
appears in schools and homes, beware the gun!
The kids will be in trouble, they should know,
they cannot make the shape of it for fun.

Don't eat a pastry till it looks like one,
or shape a Play-Doh mountain like an "L".
The teachers quake in anger, looking stunned.
You'll see the principal before the bell!

And even pointing fingers, they can tell,
your index and your thumb, if from the side
looks like a gun, they'll sound the scary knell,
and grab the kids into a room to hide!

As if you'd **** a finger when you pull it,
and out will come a magic deadly bullet.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

An often wish, that time were stored somewhere,
Accessible to all, yet more to me,
A day relivable in all its flair,
To hear, to feel, to taste, to smell, to see.

Full sense-infused, the recreation'd be,
As real as present moment ever would,
A place and time to any time I'd flee,
To when and where I'd flee if flee I could.

If possible the question would be, should?
Should I relive a scene that's long since past,
Whose ground is gone upon which once I stood,
Whose sky has fled and clouds have long since cast?

Our memories whose present time has left,
Are lessons learned when of them we're bereft.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos