A Trip Through My Memory - Poem by Paul Amrod
A trip through my memory can be a joy
Or bring me sadness, pleasures or pain
Never fading, the nostalgia remains.
Soft reverie soothes me and luckily
Time heals all injury
Erasing the deepest misery
Optimism will shine through
As each being then toys
with their token piece of magic.
Pessimism is mostly a fear of the future
Therefore we must remember that our hopes
and wishes cannot always be fulfilled.
This is however not as tragic
as not enjoying the fleeting moments
of a comrade’s support and goodwill.
Taking the time to glance in a flower
will bring Nature’s enrichment
to widen our vision’s scope.
With a golden point of view
we will create a new thematic
jest of wondrous excitement.
If we stumble and suddenly learn
it is worth every second as the thrill
of our presence sweetens our hours.
Then we will awake, anointed and aware
beckoning simple maxims to construe
peace from within like a soothing nocturne.
In our natural and spiritual recluse
we liberate our souls to graciously share
our dreams of reminiscence and content.
Giving of our inner selves so ecstatic
with our gift of life free of despair.
Needless worries change to intent
of purpose releasing our tribulations.
As our thoughts wander through the years
we capture once again jubilation.
We gave thanks for encouragement
for this we will solemnly declare
our gentile position of deliberation.
From the first days of innocence
to the enlightened streams of tears
we follow our fateful ascent.
Always holding the adorning experience
close to my heart like a beggar’s prayer.
Hats off to the dilapidated daydreamer
who conceives his enchanted wonderments.
His recollections are fine and extraordinaire
which witnessed the meandering and delirious.
Our imaginations wander through a dreamy landscape
propelling our thoughts like a blatant schemer.
Our fantasies envisioned the realms of dissent
reflecting a childhood wish to flee and escape.
Remembering our sumptuous intimate moments
as we played prince charming with Miss Gorgeous.
We sacrificed our discipline for the affair
and preached promiscuity as life’s ornament.
In a whimsical fairyland we masquerade to reshape
reality with a buffoon’s expertise and magnificence
capturing his persnickety manner and illustrious demeanor.
All is engendered amongst the blessings which empower
our separate minds in retrospect to perform and drape
the curtain open for this fabulous form of the melodramatic.
Reenacting our past adventures to the third eyes’ tower
has given us access to this world of past consequence.
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