And These Things
Things life has given us freely,
Or just thrown in our path by coincidence,
passing on by, netting not our attention,
has the tendency to needle us later on.
We are bound in time to want to go back to visit those moments.
To weep, to laugh or simply to wish for their return.
Things we could have done but didn't
Counted now as a lost moment in time.
Things that could have been but wasn't, considered now
a lost opportunity.
Things that should have been, but never was,
considered now as failed notions of fate.
Burned Bridges and those we should have burned.
Old loves, even old hates
Now wrapped in memories all bitter sweet.
Nothing remembered , the way it really was.
Being born is a painful but wonderful beginning to life.
Growing in between to make us what we become,
what we really finally are
Not just what we dream or exaggerate.
The hazards of learning, sometimes to harsh.
Youth, we take life in our hands and run with it,
like the wind across the plains thinking we have plenty
Of time to do important things, live as we wish, doubt the rules.
Then suddenly we are here in our "older age"looking back,
where life is more sweet to remember
more painful to reflect upon
than it was to be born and live it.
Life is not kind to us when we are no longer bold and tough
as we once were
Our own memories will abuse us if we let them,
as it seems we so often do in spite of all we know.
Small things that have been stored away for remembrance
in the back of our minds are disturbed in their dust
while searching for something pleasant to contemplate
as we sit idle waiting for sunset.
Betraying us they take us back to face them all,
so that like a drowning person our life flashes before our eyes.
Like flickering candles, or Movies of old
Except for the sound of tears slipping down our face,
rising up from the depths of an old soul full of "what if's".
It is life for us , these things,
After we have lived and know of nothing else to do.
B.B The Other me
9 /25 / 2012
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11776134-And-These-Things-by-BB-the-other-me#sthash.xAYl8NaT.dpuf
- This poem is really peculiar in many ways, first in create a sense of dignity in the way it grasps hold on what is real and unreal. It speaks of betrayal, among other things, and inner twines our memories and how we react.
I enjoy this because it truly opens the senses at the differences in life, and our own customs and choices we choose to make.