Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
confiscated memories
taken to dark rooms
with single 40 watt bulbs
swinging overhead
casting alien shadows
and adding to the air
of uncertainty
grainy photographs
lay haphazard
askew and strewn
as if by a child
or inconsiderate adult
making a symbolic point
children faces
from summer camp
classmates in spandex
eternally living 1991
teased bangs
and hanging wallet chains
the images distort
colors blend and fade
new images arise from the swirl
birth elation
and passing family
lost pets furry snouts
smear into the eclectic
bandaged knees
bees stings and mother’s kisses
slight pressure builds behind one eye
as a strange pull exerts force
indirect
vows and flowers
powerful allies
cash gifts and glass dishes
showered
blank polaroid’s dot the tabletop
washed-out black with lens flares
sun spots
orange hues, circular and non-committal
slowly alter and develop angles
first front porch swing
splinter banister
and sanding the space
currently void of tile
flashing stashes of mix-matched socks
boxes of books
cooking thanksgiving.

they sit quiet, lost in though
when the steady red line matches
the single tone
…sighs escape pursed lips
when the littlest member asks,
“What was he thinking about before he died?”
Sam Temple
Written by
Sam Temple  Oregon
(Oregon)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems