Memories

Memories short poem

My memories have become nomads,
And they come back all at once.
Like strangers from myriad surreal lands,
Or a thousand prodigal sons.

How far from home, we have strayed mother!
From that sunny dreaming hearth,
So my memories seem of some other,
Some other distant obscure birth.

I must gather them like fallen flowers,
When their lives are all but done,
And wish after each like shooting stars,
Embrace each prodigal son.

This poem is part of the Poetry Book “Twenty Poems of Light and Longing: Rabbit HOLE calling

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Jay Krishnan

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Always wide eyed with wonder, prone to reveries and restless with an inexplicable yearning to create ever since he was a little boy, Jay wrote his first poem when he was six. He discovered the ore of his creative endeavors in the writings of his sister from which everything else originated, in attics filled with vanilla smelling old books, in savoring the classics and in intricate poems of Wordsworth and William Blake inlaid with rhyme…. His poems have snuck under editorial radars and appeared in global anthologies, magazines, newspapers and online journals. He also runs an idea shop called the Centre of Gravity, draws cartoons, directs animated short films and conceptualizes communication campaigns. All of which originate from the same artery of poetic longing that destiny charmed into his soul.
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kwai chee low
Member

A strikingly beautiful poem. I love the flow and the tempo which are impeccable. And the metaphors – I like especially the 1st line of the last stanza “…gather them like fallen flowers” in respect of memories.

wpDiscuz

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