Tag Archives: memory

Recurring Dream

An elaborate and winding stair reaches an upper floor
Of a building that holds no great historical significance
Where a reverent hush stills the air
That smells of memories like sun-washed photos
Souvenirs forgotten that remind but never capture
The moments that didn’t feel like they would ever need revisiting
No line, no admission, no ticket stub to betray time or location
Words become bygone necessity last used before the passage back
Along an immeasurable distance and direction
Arrival brings nostalgia at the sights
That might disappear in a blink
When I close my eyes again


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I’ve come in through your eyes
Thought you might like to know
When you looked at this page
I escaped my paper prison

I was but a captive to the ink
And now I am free
You left a window wide open
I climbed in when you weren’t looking

Here I am inside your head
Am I free to wander?
Or have I traded
One cell for another?


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We wish for a word like a light in the dark
Belief that is held in a sound
Imparted to be a truth we can see
A sense of direction is found

Ambiguous shapes converge in the gloom
Creating the shadow of doubt
A mid-tunnel light, disruption of night
Meandering sightless without

To tread on blind steps and to be never sure
Wait not for the glimmer returned
But trust that within is contained what has been
The world exists to be learned

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Pictures of the Dead

Frozen like statues captured mid-smile
Between breaths and heartbeats
The moment passing
From slow to stopped

Silent reminder
The stilled pulse of memory
Aching wound that lingers
Between the past and the present

Eyes that never change expression
Refusing to admit the glimmer is gone
The world moves on, past cars on a street
Parked outside an empty house

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What Came To Be

This week marks the anniversary of my daughter’s death.  I wrote the first few lines of this poem while she was still alive, nearly seven years ago to the day.  I finished it over the next month, adding a few words as they came to me.  This week’s poem is in memory and honor of my daughter, Livia Flynn.

You smiled when we yelled
Unable to understand the words
But comforted by familiarity.
You fell asleep despite
The clash of conflict,
An oasis of tranquility
In the midst of chaos.

Wandering back with hands for eyes
Groping at the pale shroud of time
At landmarks, unrecognizable
Darkness grown from light
The illumination of a photo
A smile, a sleeping face

Still moments count the hours
And silence accompanies
Emptiness both searching
For companionship
In absence

Order replaces disarray
With a surplus of time
Distraction becomes

The sun rises, yet the sky is empty
The day begins, but the morning
Is filled with a quiet that is not peace

Memory lacks and does not care
That it will never sate

What came to be


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