Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 273

Testing Memory

Life is just a "jeopardy" game.
Someone yells the answer,
And you wonder what the question was.
Sometimes you hesitate and think.
Sometimes you answer without pause.
Sometimes you ponder and reflect,
"I used to know that way back when".
But then before you can remember
Some smartass comes buzzing in
To steal your thunder,
Such a blunder.
Thinks he's such a modern wonder.
Makes you want to dig a hole
And put him about six feet under....
Only kidding... Just a game.
Violence is sick and lame.
And I'm sure that you'll agree,
It's such fun testing memory.

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Total Recall

I remember it all...
Every word, every sigh,
Every breath to the last...
Silent echo... Goodbye.
Waiting motionless...
Senseless denial of rest.
Counting the rise and fall
Of your chest.
Time becoming a road without end.
Taking the measure of this gentle friend.
Each second is stilled.
I remember it all.
A burden to carry,
This total recall.

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Thrown Back

Like a fish too small to bother...
Doesn't register or rate...
Tossed back into murky waters.
Wasted time. Wasted bait.

Young love spurned and unrequited...
Heart of glass begins to crack...
Till it shatters into pieces...
Mercilessly thrown back.

Wiser now and more mature...
Bitter hindsight turned around
To face the cold hard facts ahead,
To not look back,
Not look down.

Knowing that the pond holds many
As we glide among the pack,
One will find and swim beside me.
We will never be thrown back.

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Searching For Details

The ifs and whens and
Wherefores and therefores.
The whats, the whos and whys
Plague the air in search of a reason.
Searching for details
To uncover lies.
Forces of evil surround the encampment.
Flagrantly rumoring innuendo,
Disseminating their disinformation,
Clouding the truth with a blanket of snow.
Fact into fiction,
Fiction to fact.
Follow the paper trail,
Find and attack.
Becoming a sleuth with a monocled brow.
Searching for details,
Wondering how.

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Snakes and Lizards

Don't like slimly...
Don't like slinky...
Don't like creepy, crawly, stinky...
Don't like flies or
Bees or bugs...
Snakes or lizards...
Snails or slugs.
I know boys are supposed to like
Things that slither, sting or bite.
It's just curiosity. They say that's how it ought to be.
Well,
Call me crazy.
Call me strange.
To me it seems a bit deranged
To want to see or
Even touch
These snakes and lizards,
Bugs and such.

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Souvenirs

I recall when we climbed "Stone Mountain",
Looking out over mile after mile
Of tall Georgiapine reaching skyward
In worship. It still makes me smile
To think of that day, so majestic and free
Where sight never sees and sound never hears.
A small piece of granite
From high on the mountain
Became my most treasured
Of all souvenirs.
Not platinum or silver,
Not diamond or gold,
Not emerald or ruby red stone.
A piece of a memory.
A glorious moment.
God and the mountain...
And me all alone.

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Reminders

Tie a string around your finger.
Write yourself a little note and
Place it where you're sure to see it,
Pin it to your overcoat!
Ask a friend to call you later.
Cause a memory to stir.
Looking out beyond tomorrow,
Write it on your calendar.
Tricks and stunts abound aplenty
In the old reminder game.
Those who use them will succeed.
Those who don't... Well, who's to blame?

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Recollections

The mind plays tricks
On mundane recollections from the past.
It bogs down in a swamp
Just when it's needed to run fast.
Fleetingly just out of reach,
It wants to be unmasked,
And when it's caught, it breathes a sigh
As it is shared at last.
Recollections told by friends,
Such sweet apparitions.
Calling up a smiling past,
A memory transmission.

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Remembrance

Floating ghosts of yesterday,
Background crawlers coiled to spring.
Frosting on a memory
Sweetly comes recycling.
Spurred forth in a second's flash,
Keyed by senses, sound or sight.
Spilling out in conversation
Or reflected cool and quiet.
Thoughtful longings for the past,
Tucked in memory, not by chance.
Keepsakes treasured, never spent,
Shrines of fond remembrance.

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Quid Pro Quo

Swapping baseball cards when I was young
Was not a business.
Sentimental value was the only valid key.
Even up and fair exchange had nothing whatsoever
To do with money. It just seemed
The way it ought to be.

Values change like seedlings into saplings into trees.
Quid pro quo grows less important
As the leaves turn brown.
Even up no longer is the goal
Or the safe haven.
Motive turns to greed
Before the leaves come crashing down.

Why is it never quite enough
To reap just what you sow?
Why can't we just be satisfied?
What's wrong with quid pro quo?

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