Tuesday, July 14, 2009

little memory

Wander down a lost lane, scuffing through red leaves
Look for the blue sky and white clouds

Notice the logic of a crystal burble
Decipher thoughts of the black bug

Climb an ancient maple, gripping the old bark
Smile for a lark at the breezy sunshine

Crawl through a brier patch, looking for raspberries
Cross the meadow on a mission

Dam the creek for a new frog colony
Mine some clay for making dirt clod missiles

Hop home on one leg
Eat some candy from the stash

5 comments:

Jonas said...

Wordsworth's def. of poetry comes to mind.

I like it! It brings back memories beautifully.

barry said...

Thanks John. Could you refresh my memory on the Wordworth definition?

Jonas said...

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility"

I like the second part of the quote better. I have no idea whether your poem was a "spontaneous overflow", but I know a comparable work would have taken me some serious elbow-grease and teeth grinding.

Christy Joy said...

I like that definition.

And I like poems about memories. Only the writer truly has the memory, but the reader can catch a glimmer even though it is not their own. And sometimes, it can become theirs as well.

barry said...

Thanks Jonas and Christy.