#rememory - Hello Poetry

\_____________________\\\\___________ Pastels/interlude of spring Rememories in pattern&gene Soft-hues emulate the air breaking/defrosting/shedding from chilled atmospheric fling_ending Warm-risal of color saturation In tune-time for renewal plant life Budding/blossoming/bussing into vibrant splashes all can hear with their eyes/feel & read on their skin Proof of life in us flooding back in Pastels/complimentary of spring Inches away from primaries Setting a balance/calming glee Hue_ing effervescence -HSH~ ________________\__________________\\

0

Mar 30, 2019

Mar 30, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC

HSH

Pastels

\_____________________\\\\___________ Pastels/interlude of spring Rememories in pattern&gene Soft-hues emulate the air breaking/defrosting/shedding from chilled atmospheric fling_ending Warm-risal of color saturation In tune-time for renewal plant life Budding/blossoming/bussing into vibrant splashes all can hear with their eyes/feel & read on their skin Proof of life in us flooding back in Pastels/complimentary of spring Inches away from primaries Setting a balance/calming glee Hue_ing effervescence -HSH~ ________________\__________________\\

14

cold. blurry blinking blue back in light glistening iridescent white crested waves crashing to a tide pulled under quiet— below the surface swimming soft sway current sweeping shells fishes bubble breathing drifting. mountainous shores sandy shallows washed in crystal casper and silk sails in the sky soft laughter. joy-filled jubilation splashing smile simply bubbling beckoning back to be beneath the sea.

0

Sep 15, 2016

Sep 15, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC

thisdenouement

september sixteenth sixteen

cold. blurry blinking blue back in light glistening iridescent white crested waves crashing to a tide pulled under quiet— below the surface swimming soft sway current sweeping shells fishes bubble breathing drifting. mountainous shores sandy shallows washed in crystal casper and silk sails in the sky soft laughter. joy-filled jubilation splashing smile simply bubbling beckoning back to be beneath the sea.

16

Alone I stand in this old house, I can imagine the emotions that were once roust. Day-Dreaming of sweet and sour days long past, The joy and pain all gone so fast. Yet alone I begin to ponder, My curious mind begins to wander. Have the experiences encased by these walls, Linger still with life and calls? Or have they vanished without a trace, Sorely missed, but given no chase? I'll never know till it's too late, If remembrance and feelings have such a fate. But if I think long and hard enough, I can picture, observe, and almost feel that stuff. Perhaps the answer lies with the sole beholder, Yet pondered too long will surely smolder. The structure, its contents, the recent disaster, Has not removed from this place its emotional plaster. Days of hate, love, pain and joy long past, Although gone from sight are still remembered fast. As my grandmother searches for her old favorite blouse, The last living remnant, the sad surviving spouse. The things here that have happened make me feel small as a mouse, As I stand alone in this old house.

0

Jun 4, 2014

Jun 4, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC

just-bill

This old house

Alone I stand in this old house, I can imagine the emotions that were once roust. Day-Dreaming of sweet and sour days long past, The joy and pain all gone so fast. Yet alone I begin to ponder, My curious mind begins to wander. Have the experiences encased by these walls, Linger still with life and calls? Or have they vanished without a trace, Sorely missed, but given no chase? I'll never know till it's too late, If remembrance and feelings have such a fate. But if I think long and hard enough, I can picture, observe, and almost feel that stuff. Perhaps the answer lies with the sole beholder, Yet pondered too long will surely smolder. The structure, its contents, the recent disaster, Has not removed from this place its emotional plaster. Days of hate, love, pain and joy long past, Although gone from sight are still remembered fast. As my grandmother searches for her old favorite blouse, The last living remnant, the sad surviving spouse. The things here that have happened make me feel small as a mouse, As I stand alone in this old house.

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