In my thrift store psyche
the ghost of you sits
in a ring of dust
on a table not quite antique.
I keep check on it
every now and then,
making sure you haven’t reappeared
midst blue and gold gilded vases,
LP’s with faded jackets,
New stuff gets added
daily, weekly, monthly. . .
and some things find other homes, too—
One day I’ll dust,
after the clutter clears,
even your memory
will be gone too.
Until I find another thing
that reminds me of you.
© 2014 Jennifer Wagner
Some memories are hard to shake off like dust ~ I specially like the opening verses Jennifer ~ Have a good weekend ~
This captures, wonderfully, the way, I think, we often feel when a relationship has ended. Little vestiges remain and often summon forth a shared history. And though, reminders can be dealt pragmatically there were, at least some, happy times - the fading memory of which can sometimes evoke a tinge of wistfulness.
You express the myriad of confounding emotions and the nuanced gamut of the human spirit so well, Jennifer, you oughta be a sage. Smiles.
The mixture of memories, regret, clutter and dust is pretty much the way many of us live our lives. You have written this beautifully.
I think there will always be memories - somehow we tie them to things, but no cleaning ore replacements will beer change this. Love the thrift store mind though.
the longing will always be there..."Until I find another thing / that reminds me of you."....love the use of metaphors here...
smiles...we are all about collecting those monuments of our past lives eh? def those songs....i like the allusion of it as a thrift shop...and there are def times i dont even feel like cleaning it...smiles.
All this time and it still refuses to die. It is never really over. Some memories you will take right unto the blue yonder.
The nice thing about aging I've found is that those hard, painful memories lose their edge, their power to hurt. Course that maybe that because I've been blessed to find real love and make better memories.
Your poem is truly lovely.
Jennifer, I love thrift store shopping, too, and keeping sentimental pieces around that remind me of people. Your words painted a beautiful picture.
This is very good, Jennifer! One of my favorites of yours. I like how you end the poem, with the hope that one day you will be have forgotten that person, followed by the realization that this will never be the case. Something will always remind you of them.
What a wonderful analogy, Jennifer. To begin with, I love browsing thrift shops--so many stories hidden in there. And you've taken that concept, made it so much more personal and the results are so good.
Just terrific--wonderful musing on patterns and how they stick with us--very effective choices of items-- really well done. Thanks. k.
those we really love we see everywhere and in everything
I love this, Jen.
ohh i love this - the first stanza had me hooked - then the LPs and gilded vases - and the last lines - wonderful! K
Nice. Love the point of view and the melancholy converted into favourite objects that are aloowed to hangon like photos in an album.
if only it were possible to clean the cobwebs out of our minds, but then we'd loose the good along with the bad...better to have those fleeting moments of remembrance...reminding us of all life has to offer us and helping us navigate the bad alongside the good...
You have a way with the simple things of life--somehow you make magic--beautiful write Jen!
Sometimes they're kindly ghosts for me - the one I loved. At 12:34 p.m. (our usual bedtime) we once laughed at it. Now when my eye catches it, brushing teeth, turning on TV, brushing hair, in the mirror across the room - a ghost in time passes by and I giggle again with him. This was so very sweet for me.
this truly resonates with my heart..a very moving and evocative piece, Jennifer.
I agree, very moving and poignant. I like all your little details and also that you allow us, the readers, just enough room to see how your story can be our own.
in the dust
scribed by my tired finger
__Jenn, your heartful verse brought forth this instant senryu... and I leave that in complement. _m
Terridic stuff, opts for wistfulness over weeping or screeching, which is the right thing to do; the distance and the tone of resignation makes the piece, paradoxically enough, just that more powerful.
yeah. I tried deleting a bunch of photos, and it turns out Google had saved them somewhere. ~
Oh… this is such a wonderful poem! You leave it wide open for the reader to "plunk" in a loved one - it could be a child, a lover, a parent, etc. Oh, this is fabulous…
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