False Memory

“Remembering Friends” by Karen Knutson

 

we were innocents
traveling life
common pathways
paved worn with
shared values
inherent diversities
channeled to loyalty
born free in spirit
of commonwealth
not a melting pot
but a mixing bowl
blending proud
colors and creeds

annealed dreams
yield exceptional
tensile strength
making possible
unified purpose
achieving great
civilized things
pushing men to
and through their
potential toward
prominent privilege
obtained of an
empire of intellect

so it once was
so it seems to the
eyes of my memory
visions so real
I can reach back
and touch them
feel every last aspect
of greatness the
pulsing pure essence
amassed with nobility

standing as witness
oath-sworn unto truth
I concede that I very
well could be mistaken
that none of it
ever did happen
my habit of painting
the past is perhaps
foolish labor
of mind over matter
distorted romantic and
stubborn with sentiment

 

 

From my book Ephemera

Frost Heaves

“Road to Giverny in Winter” by Claude Monet

 

ice forms in slim wombs

subterranean

temporal passages

crystal with seasons

swell yesterday’s thaw

pushing upthrusting

seriate ripples

embellishing pavements

men laid with a matrix

of dreamstuff

an undulant shapely

cascade leading

either away from

or back to a time and

a place that have

finished themselves

bygone eras completed

now covered by distance

with ribbons of roads

ever lengthening

reaching to span

two opposing horizons

conflicting emotions

of sunrise and sunset

the alpha omega points

true destinations

for traffic compelled

by alternative passions

indifferent to time

 

 

From my books Ephemera and Legacies (vol. 2)

Futurepast

 

“Warp Speed” by Thomas Woolworth

 
if I could fly faster than time
beyond reach of tomorrows
I might just recover my yesterdays
live them again with more grace
recast my old age with some dignity
passion and pride once so fierce
given over to patience and modesty

faster than time is a speed that needs
magic momentum of mind
special powers of dreamscape
creating remarkable visions
behind sleeping eyes from the
yearnings of penitent conscience
to make the impossible possible

Directions

“Cross and Weather Vane” by Arthur Dove

 

modern turns old

in my verdigris mouth

copper cupola skin

weathers newborn

ideas to deep tarnish

what once was a

smoothly articulate

vane in surmount of

my mind now stands

heedless of thought

bearing winds frozen

rusting in place

pointed permanently

at my cardinal past

 

 

From my books Pieces of Wine and Legacies (vol. 2)

A Tree Grows on Ruins

 

Photo from Pompeii, Italy

 

some trees will not touch the ground
roots instead plumb ethereal planes
the aesthetical apertures in between
ill-fated ruins of structural yesterday

timber with great vibrance and vigor
majestic and stalwart with purpose
to convey by example the message
tomorrow remains yet perfectible

Old Mind

“Living in the Past” by Mark Lawrence

eyelids heavy

with thoughts

of tomorrows

the sameness

of day after day

is oppressive

exhausting

there’s only

so much

an old mind

can imagine

too few are

the wishful

surprises as yet

to be conjured

and so the eyes

close upon

series of images

actual memories

scenes of the past

pasted onto

the present

as if each

diminishing new

dawning day

is no more and

no else than

some version

of yesterday

Timepiece

Image From hdwallpapers.com

asleep in the now

awake in the then

from my window

the ground crystal

face of this timepiece

parades the past

into my view

fresh and new

flesh and blood

full of youth that

had died of old age

words and insights

long since become

quaint once again

apt and timely

old years drained

of sepia tints given

back to their living

original colors

each piece of each

year caught in

stutter-stop sweep

of a secondhand

pointed at memories

mostly forgotten

no place for a future

in exhales of gears

in the whispered

precisions of

movements or

tacit escapements

whose energy

transmutes the past

into present

…..the present

……….the present

……………the present

Regression

Image by ohpopsi

 

there are days I’m too old for the world

when it outspins the pace of my stride

and I find that my forward moves backward

living more in the past than the present

perceiving my future as memories

of days when I ran and will run yet again

at the speed of the racing equator

when values I held and will hold yet again

made ethical guideposts reliable

In Medias Res

“Coffee Chat”
Painting by Woon Lam Ng
From lifineart.com

forgot where he’s been
can’t see where he’s going
he’s all about now

Hopeful History

“Horizon of Hope”
Painting by Laura Harris
From shadowlight9.blogspot.com

was there ever a golden age
a time of remarkable deeds
when motives and methods
of men were impeccable
worthy of singing immaculate
praise by the poets of progeny

was there ever a golden age
a time of remarkable deeds
or is memory merely a vessel
of hope a reformative hindsight
that polishes history shining
its possible light on the future