Memories Poem by Valsa George

Memories

Rating: 5.0


In the twilight’s deepening stillness
I sit by my window and look outside
The sprawling fields of paddy awaiting harvest,
Take me to those fields where I roamed as a child
Like the blind, when pass their fingers
Across the Braille script, are led
To an amazing world of information,
As I move my hands through the grooves of the past
Before me opens, lovely vistas into my childhood!

Those days flitted away so fast
Without leaving much impact
But now I yearn for the pleasures past
And loving faces that used to peer from the drapes
The bright silhouette of my mother’s face
Haloed by the aura of sacred love
The stern but loving face of my father
The guardian and bread winner of our home
The naughty pranks of my siblings
Whose merry laughter made our little nest ring

Scenes I courted once so avidly crowd upon me
As on a tinsel screen, in endless succession
Of the days when my heart never knew any sorrow
And I remained an alien to life’s pressures

As I lose myself in the upsurge of memories
Of those whom I shall never see any more
I loathe to tell myself… never shall come again
The same ecstatic joy of innocent childhood!

Sunday, August 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Akhtar Jawad 02 August 2015

Memories are always charming and so are the poems written on it.

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Jayatissa K. Liyanage 02 August 2015

never shall come again, The same ecstatic joy of innocent childhood! Not just for you. We all feel the same. Childhood of each individual may vary in terms of events and incidents, but common to all in terms of learning, experiencing and enjoyment. Your poem takes us through that lovely path we all have passed long ago, with nostalgia. Lovely! Thanks for sharing.

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Kumarmani Mahakul 02 August 2015

As I lose myself in the upsurge of memories Of those whom I shall never see any more I loathe to tell myself… never shall come again The same ecstatic joy of innocent childhood! ..... of course it is true. A stunning composition I like most. Thanks for sharing. .... 10

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Abdulrazak Aralimatti 03 August 2015

Truly, the golden memories of childhood sprout the sweet sorrow. A poem that reminds the reader of his childhood.

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Bri Edwards 16 August 2015

you say your childhood experiences didn’t make “much impact”, but indeed they DID; you just didn’t realize it until they were long past/passed and you are sitting rocking to and fro in your chair, looking out the window from behind YOUR drapes, waiting in anticipation of your own sons’ visits. favorite lines so far: “The naughty pranks of my siblings Whose merry laughter made our little nest ring” AND: “Of the days when my heart never knew any sorrow And I remained an alien to life’s pressures As I lose myself in the upsurge of memories Of those whom I shall never see any more I loathe to tell myself… never shall come again The same ecstatic joy of innocent childhood! ” “whom” or “who”? I bow to the (retired) English professor’s knowledge. yes, childhood for many (the lucky children) was “pleasures”. NOW, for many, adulthood is more “pressures”. sometimes I think back and wonder how tough it may have been at times for my parents to bring home enough money to pay for groceries for 5 kids (and sometimes pets) , shoes, camp fees, dental visits, and the like. and to have the time and energy to do the laundry, cooking, and washing dishes, ironing, lawn mowing, and house painting. [when we kids got old enough to be somewhat independent, my mom went to work the night shift at the hospital (nurse) and also did most of the typical housewife work as well.] if my parents were still alive I might ask them. I DID know “sorrow” once as a child [maybe more]. once I tried to ‘come close’ to hitting a sparrow with an arrow. the little bird was sitting on a low branch about ten feet from me. I was about 9 years old. I aimed and let the arrow fly! “where did sparrow go? ” I didn’t see it on the branch. I didn’t see it fly away. I walked to the other side of the tree and found my arrow lying on the ground with the bird surrounding the center of the arrow’s shaft, dead! I cried and hid the ‘poor bird’ under a piece of wood near a fence. BUT most of childhood was a wonderful time compared to much of adulthood. I still can climb a tree (sort of) . thanks for the memories. bri :) to MyPoemList

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Rajesh Thankappan 16 August 2015

Your nostalgia, I am certain, would have fetched into the mind of your readers their own individual nostalgia. I wish a time machine would one day be invented that would take us into the tourism of the past!

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Ayman Parray 11 August 2015

To feel the love of everyone and everything I have ever loved, that is something I really look forward to feeling again. 'Memories' is beautiful. Thank you.

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Roop Rekha Bhaskar 08 August 2015

I pass through this phase so often. And far too many memories. Yet they all come crowding into you. We pass through Life but once. and we pass through each phase but once too. Lovely.

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Amitava Sur 06 August 2015

A beautiful reminiscence of left out golden days of the life which is surely the childhood days.Though it's painful but gives a little solace remembering those lovely carefree days with nature and family, when both these two are distancing gradually at present. You may read my old poem My golden days

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Valsa George 06 August 2015

Amitava.... I have already commented on it! Thanks!

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