Slipping Away From Me

[Delta40]

A memory that I've never known
came to vivid life.

At the pub, salty peanuts and coke.
Legs too short to reach the ground.
Mum and Dad a fact of life.
An Elvis lookalike with a Beatles sound.

Warning: Smoking - I mean a blow to the head
can harm unborn poetry.

Coins in the Juke Box.
Slow, steady moves.
Eyes locked together,
Dad lip synced the song to her,
You're slipping away from me.

Elvis sighed and ordered another beer.

Warning: A blow to the head
can cause cancer, I mean affect long term memory.

At the hospice I held Dad's hand and realised,
You're slipping away from me.
Orson Welles thunder rolled across the sky.
I will never forget his blue striped pyjamas,
No wait!
I'm sure they were lavendar,
or cream,
maybe green check?
perhaps purple silk.
Oh what the hell, let's just make them hospital issue.

At Mum's, Elvis looked up from his paper
and said he was sorry or maybe he didn't.
Perhaps I never even went there that day
because right now, it's all just slipping away.

[Jerrybaldy]

I loved this Delta, the mix of icons and family and the emotional. Iconic instantly and vulnerable and my favourite version of Detaesqueness.

[MystyrMystyry]

^otally agree. This is definitely a standout Delta :)

[firefangled]

The opening to this sets it up well. It seems like those times you're not sure if it was memory or dream, or just something you made up for a reason you forget why. Nicely done.

[Revolte]

The finished piece is amazing, I loved this.

"Warning: Smoking - I mean a blow to the head
can harm unborn poetry."

you had me at that

[Haunted]

Something bad happened. I have a few scenarios, all too painful not to pretend it's only a dream or blame it on faulty memory. Very well done, Delta

[Delta40]

It feels a little garbled to me but perhaps that helps with the theme.

[cafolini]

"Life is not the one we lived. It is the one we remember and how we remember it in order to tell it." ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

[Bar22do]

A memory that I've never known
came to vivid life.

At the pub, salty peanuts and coke.
Legs too short to reach the ground.
Mum and Dad a fact of life.
An Elvis lookalike with a Beatles sound.

Warning: Smoking - I mean a blow to the head
can harm unborn poetry.

Coins in the Juke Box.
Slow, steady moves.
Eyes locked together,
Dad lip synced the song to her,
You're slipping away from me.

Elvis sighed and ordered another beer.

Warning: A blow to the head
can cause cancer, I mean affect long term memory.

At the hospice I held Dad's hand and realised,
You're slipping away from me.
Orson Welles thunder rolled across the sky.
I will never forget his blue striped pyjamas,
No wait!
I'm sure they were lavendar,
or cream,
maybe green check?
perhaps purple silk.
Oh what the hell, let's just make them hospital issue.

At Mum's, Elvis looked up from his paper
and said he was sorry or maybe he didn't.
Perhaps I never even went there that day
because right now, it's all just slipping away.

This is a touching poem, Delta, written with your usual vitality and underlying sense of drama. I wish your vitality returns to you after the rather serious incident you underwent.
I was absent on the forum for a few days and now don't see your posts over here. How do you feel?

Warmest thoughts of all good for your health and well being from

Bar

and again, congrats for the poem, it's always gratifying to read you.