"mementoes" poems
Last night,
At the moment between sanity and dream,
The conjuring I had acquired to keep you caged
Was cancelled by a stronger spell.
For even after years,
You came unbidden to my bed,
And tempted love into regret.
Even here; within a bedroom you were
Banished from by my desire,
You found a way to lie
Your ghost beside me,
And possess the still and sleeping form
Of yet another stranger by my side.
When you first left,
To live apart through our
Shared motion of the sun,
Destroying days with dark mementoes,
And nights with savage wakefulness
Where all alone, I had invoked
The Furies, to pursue your faithlessness
Through every hope you treasured
And held dear,
Fear of my wish for your decay
Had marked each day,
With lies to mutual friends,
Who heard I wished you well.
Yet even now;
I burn within the hell
Which I unleashed for you.
© James Rainsford 2010
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 9:13 AM UTC
He wants everything
to be new, for
life is now,
in the moment.
Talk of yesterday
irritates his mental state.
He seems to have no
memories, sour or sweet.
He pays attention,
observant, fixed and
focused on charm bracelet,
the sky, or her feet.
Notes, mementoes
seldom covered his table
for life is now,
living is the present.
No talk of tomorrow
nor discourse of history
for he might miss
the softness of her breath.
Who cares for yesterday
or sins that he had played,
excitement seems supreme,
he might make the same mistake today.
Recalling past life and loves
seems folly:
Notice the wind, the rain,
her walk, or her sway.
He wants every moment
to be new
so he may fall in love today
again, with her.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
I still have mementoes of you in my room
your books, some clothes, pictures, and other little stuff
and one day they're gonna be just what they are:
things
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
Some are running,
some in panic,
finding platforms
and gates.
Some on visits,
some on tour,
with families,
officials or mates.
Some at the enquiry,
first timers in confusion,
asking for directions.
Some shopping,
gifts and mementoes,
some at the phone
charging locations.
It seems a place
that never goes to sleep,
and never rests a while
Reaching people
to destinations,
near or across
thousands of mile.
The announcement
above echoes,
on every notifications
and details.
They leave no stones unturned,
the crew and the members
of all Airways.
Copyright © PS
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:32 AM UTC
An oppressive, heavy darkness
Stale, musty air tinged with a touch of madness
A bone chilling cold
Assaults his senses as he awakens from sleep's stranglehold
Alone in his cell
He slumps with tears making tracks of dirt down his face
In defiance of the gloom a brightly lit shrine occupies a corner
A shrine filled with mementoes of his past
He drags himself towards the shrine
Casts his eyes about till they rest upon a key
A key for a door in a cell with no doors
A key that's engraved with the words
"Freedom lies in the way forward"
He scrabbles away from the shrine and slumps against a wall
With a blood curdling keen he wails
"The future is too daunting for me!"
As he claws his face with dirt filled nails
So he is still there sitting alone in his prison
With the key mockingly bright
Waiting for him to grab it
And escape that prison of his own making
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
A rose that blooms when summer's high.
Enough to fill a fantasy.
Given to a lover true.
A rose so scarlet.
To thrill the love thou once held inside mine heart.
Red rose, o red rose given to me.
Love is the only emotion I see.
Thine eyes told no lies.
Words unsaid.
Those climbing roses grow up the wall anchored fast throughout the fall.
They rap on the window, tap, tap, scratch.
Reminders, such perfect mementoes of loving moments, we once shared.
Accidentally you let it slip from heart and mind,
How scared thou must have felt.
Time set you free.
The ladybird cared.
Sitting in sunshine.
She's basking in joy.
(c)LIVVI
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Menagerie…by Jessie 6/06
Too many days are all the same
The will has left, the inert pendulum silent, no longer marking time
Glass menagerie collecting dust
A ghost town of frail figurines
Lifeless the sheen, pail from coatings of yesterday
Not even the trace of a fingerprint to announce interest
Tawas a time, excitement from the prospect of a new-collected piece, while much deliberation was given to its placement
Diligently, maintenance provided, dusted and polished
Imagination carrying fantasies of amusing situations and images
Laughter recounted when viewed by innocent eyes
Now the foundations mirrors will not reflect what was or what is
Each days accumulation, another layer, each layer a little duller
Soon the only connection, a web, thin and translucent, linking one to the other
Paralyzed fragile pieces of glass, drowning in a sea of negligence
Your name whispered into a box of mementoes
Awaiting for renewed curiosity of another generation
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC