Embrace play, go hog wild with imagination, and have a short memory for adversity.
PROMPT: Kid at Heart
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Category Archives: memory
Hermit’s Face [Haiku]
hermit's face forms
amid river ripples:
fades like dream remnant.
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“Changed” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]
From the outskirts of the town
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and haunted wood.
Is it changed, or am I changed?
Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estranged
By the years that intervene.
Bright as ever flows the sea,
Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
Not the tides that used to run.
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“To a Butterfly” by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]
Stay near me—do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in Thee,
Historian of my Infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay Creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My Father's Family!
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when in our childish plays
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the Butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:—with leaps and springs
I follow'd on from brake to bush;
But She, God love her! feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.
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PROMPT: Legacy
If “legacy” is defined as something left behind that serves to keep one’s memory alive, then I don’t. I think that goal is futile, illusory, and a bit narcissistic. Even those who are “remembered” long after their deaths are not truly remembered. For example, the Alexander the Great who is remembered to this day likely bears little resemblance to the one who was flesh and blood. What we remember are products of imagination. [Which is fine, but then why tie them to people who lived as opposed to purely fictional ones?]
If I could leave behind some configuration of knowledge of the art of human living that would be helpful to anyone (without it being tied to my identity or memory) that would be a fine thing.
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“Night Rain Sent North” [夜雨寄北] by Li Shangyin [李商隐] [w/ Audio]
When am I coming home? I don't know.
At Bashan, night rains swell Autumn ponds.
Recall, candles in your West Window?
Ah, through night rains, to talk and bond!
The original in Simplified Chinese:
君问归期未有期， 巴山夜雨涨秋池。
何当共剪西窗烛， 却话巴山夜雨时？
Note: This is poem #298 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首.]
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“Lethe” by Walter de la Mare [w/ Audio]
Only the Blessed of Lethe's dews
May stoop to drink. And yet,
Were their Elysium mine to lose,
Could I, sans all repining, choose
Life's sorrows to forget?
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Nostalgia [Free Verse]
Eight thousand miles
from my childhood home,
I'm pulled into a nostalgic
reverie
by the scent of straw
and cow shit.
This place,
on the other side of the world,
looks nothing like where I
grew up,
but that smell...
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Moonrise [Free Verse]
Moonrise --
big and bright --
over a quiet town.
People stare --
alone but simultaneously --
'til the milky light
hurts their eyes.
This moon reminds them
of one from childhood
but seems unlike so many since...
But it's all one moon.
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Poppy Mind [Haiku]
wild poppies
take my mind to a tragic
poem learned in youth.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 