Ben No

Sweet Childhood Memories

It's just how it is.
Sorry.
Condemned,
like a building no longer fit
for habitation,
where the dry rot has spread to our hearts
and the termites are the tiny monarchs
of our crumbling ambitions.
When I was a child,
we always thought such houses
to be haunted.
Maybe our young selves
heard an echo of some truth;
that a haunting was coming.
Not for these broken-windowed wrecks
but for us.

Sorry.
It's just how it is.

Sleep tight.

Poem Submitted: Monday, November 12, 2007
Poem Edited: Sunday, April 24, 2011

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Comments about Sweet Childhood Memories by Ben No

  • Chuck Audette (9/27/2012 3:00:00 PM)

    Ben No
    More poetic language than some of your others, but with that same stoic storyteller sense to it.
    -chuck

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  • Linda Weischedel (12/31/2007 5:30:00 PM)

    GREAT POEM BEN
    This is my favorite part of your
    poem:
    When I was a child,
    we always thought such houses
    to be haunted.
    Maybe our young selves
    heard an echo of some truth;
    that a haunting was coming.

    Report Reply
    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.



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