A flickering glimpse
Of life as it was,
A spyglass peering
At the past now long gone.
Figures, now dust
Gaze out at me,
Waving across the years,
Little knowing that
War would claim so many.
In a way
They are still there,
Trapped forever
Within the celuloid.
A peep behind the eyes
Of long dead souls.
Trapped for all eternity,
Forced to perpetually repeat
The actions of that day,
So long ago.
James, I can see the sepia and the figures so small you describe with such empathy in this evocative piece that rings with truth. Warmly, Alison
Dear James, I like the way you seem to contest that memories of people passed seem to repeat themselves to you as though stuck in time. I think this is true as they never will grow older to those looking, thinking or living. Best wishes, lovely thoughts captured. John: >
Yes, we do keep bringing them up and dusting them off don't we, as a sort of 'performance' in which they have no choice but to appear. We tend to make them immortal on the celluloid, is it perhaps the way to remember them, who knows, I remember them anyway without all the media presentations. Lovely write and a lovely read. Thanks for posting it. Love Ernestine XXX
This is a tender reminder of the pain so many have gone through in the name of war. Very nice poem James. Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Touching poem. It is so sad, I can feel the sadness as I read it. Great job.