Nostalgia

[blazeofglory]

At moments I reminisce yesterdays

It sways me and I get lost

But to find myself in an abode of the time gone by

It is as flimsy as a dream

A sheer reminiscence, insubstantial as a thin layer of mist.

I was in her lap

Caressed by tendril –like fingers

The touch was really painfully deep

Envelops of fears were afloat

Lest the moment is taken away

I lived every scrap of the moment.


Pastoral love is passionate and powerful

For there is nothing to split up the time

Save labor of the day

No evenings and mornings were squandered

By present day garbage and nonsense

We were very much with each other

Cuddled up in care and compassion

Dipped in the bowel of love

Nestled in the warmth of the heart

I had my yesteryears

The bits and pieces of my memories,

The scraps of all I lived by vivify the spurt of the moment.

The hearth that warmed me was her heart

She was like the sky that could permit me to grow infinitely

She was like the green earth opening a limitless storehouse of abundance

She was the woman, the bounty-incarnate

No other than my mother manifest in all vivacities

Starting with new pastures far from a rustic, countrified setting

I am thronged in an interminable stretch of estrangement

Citified and urbanized I am split up derelict

If it is not a shroud of memories draping me

I am already buried in the past, or else

Gusts of musings breathe life into me

Deadwood or else could live on and on

Wrapped up in a blanket of nostalgia

In the making of what I am today

All my ancestors were at work

To weave all their achievements into a persona,

A basket of memories: animatedly moving.

The present grows on the stem of the past

What I am today is the mother incarnate

[blazeofglory]

I have written the poem indeed expecting something, your likes or dislikes, for they are parameters whether or not a poem is worth reading. It is of course
the readership that matters a great deal when it comes to composing poems. This poem mirrors the moment I was in the village, a very small child. Maybe the title is hackneyed. Of course there may be room for improvement and certainly a lot of suggestions too.



Nostalgia

At moments I reminisce yesterdays

It sways me and I get lost

But to find myself in an abode of the time gone by

It is as flimsy as a dream

A sheer reminiscence, insubstantial as a thin layer of mist.

I was in her lap

Caressed by tendril –like fingers

The touch was really painfully deep

Envelops of fears were afloat

Lest the moment is taken away

I lived every scrap of the moment.


Pastoral love is passionate and powerful

For there is nothing to split up the time

Save labor of the day

No evenings and mornings were squandered

By present day garbage and nonsense

We were very much with each other

Cuddled up in care and compassion

Dipped in the bowel of love

Nestled in the warmth of the heart

I had my yesteryears

The bits and pieces of my memories,

The scraps of all I lived by vivify the spurt of the moment.

The hearth that warmed me was her heart

She was like the sky that could permit me to grow infinitely

She was like the green earth opening a limitless storehouse of abundance

She was the woman, the bounty-incarnate

No other than my mother manifest in all vivacities

Starting with new pastures far from a rustic, countrified setting

I am thronged in an interminable stretch of estrangement

Citified and urbanized I am split up derelict

If it is not a shroud of memories draping me

I am already buried in the past, or else

Gusts of musings breathe life into me

Deadwood or else could live on and on

Wrapped up in a blanket of nostalgia

In the making of what I am today

All my ancestors were at work

To weave all their achievements into a persona,

A basket of memories: animatedly moving.

The present grows on the stem of the past

What I am today is the mother incarnate

[Pendragon]

For me, Blaze, the whole poem could be boiled down to one verse and it still would be a powerful message:



I lived every scrap of the moment.


In your love, in your enjoyment of life, in the good times and bad, this verse says it all: There was not a scrap of the time I didn't put to use and live to the fullest!

You have impressed me and humbled me, for I write dark poetry where one comes so close to giving up hope. Live every scrap of the moment.

With your permission, I would like to add that to my signature, giving you credit.

Pen

[blazeofglory]

Thank you so much Pendragon. You wouldnt need to take my permission.....
:)

[ampoule]

I think your poem IS a blaze of glory. "All my ancestors were at work" brought tears to my eyes.

[firefangled]

Very powerful poem, Blaze. I am happy there are people like you in the world. We need to acknowledge the continuance of soul is bound up in nostalgia and memory and it is necessary to tell this.

Thanks.

[CdnReader]

This is lovely, Blaze..... I was especially taken with this section....



She was the woman, the bounty-incarnate
No other than my mother manifest in all vivacities
Starting with new pastures far from a rustic, countrified setting
I am thronged in an interminable stretch of estrangement


In this line, I might be tempted to remove this word....



The touch was [really] painfully deep


Overall, a joy to read. Thanks!

[dibyendra]

You've visualized your past life with the powerful emotions. You have expressed the love of mother extraordinarily which I liked the most. The reminiscences in this poem are marvelous indeed.

Although this poem as a whole has been written brilliantly, I especially chosen the following lines which really moved me while reading this poem:



I lived every scrap of the moment.




The hearth that warmed me was her heart
She was like the sky that could permit me to grow infinitely
She was like the green earth opening a limitless storehouse of abundance
She was the woman, the bounty-incarnate
No other than my mother manifest in all vivacities




If it is not a shroud of memories draping me
I am already buried in the past, or else
Gusts of musings breathe life into me
Deadwood or else could live on and on
Wrapped up in a blanket of nostalgia




The present grows on the stem of the past
What I am today is the mother incarnate


Keep up your great work Blaze.

[jon1jt]

I'd like to see you strip this grandeur, it doesn't tell me much.


She was like the sky that could permit me to grow infinitely

She was like the green earth opening a limitless storehouse of abundance

She was the woman, the bounty-incarnate

I would like to hear more about this, and the girl.


The touch was really painfully deep