Nostalgia Poem by Gary Witt
Nostalgia
The man stares at you
Across smooth, smoked oak.
His head emerges from his shirt
Like a pyramid from the sand.
Coins gleam in his ears;
Dimes a few weeks ago, then
Pennies to nickels in ruthless
Numismatic progression.
Now quarters: Washington
Stretching toward the day
That will bring Sacagawea
Then John F. Kennedy
To be framed in loops of flesh
And later perhaps Lady Liberty Walking.
He stares, the man stares, implacable
Across smooth, smoked oak
At the buttons on your collar.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez quoted Carlyle (Tom, he thinks) for 'coining' something to the effect of: the youth are nostalgic for the future, but it's not till we're much older that we begin to be nostalgic for the past, and that in that nostalgia, the past is somehow made perfect. Maybe. At any rate, Gary, this is, IMO, a perfect poem; you've achieved 'concision' - a big deal to me, with very few words, each one powerful and each one necessary. Bravo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 10:27:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
An accomplished piece of work, Gary...Impactful language, and effulgent imagework highlight this gem...One piece of constructive criticism, if you don't mind....Cut out yir' vowels...work thos' 'postrophes! lol! Stellar Work, my friend. FjR