I have been awake
for hours yet still
I remember the big
trees — the road I
walked, the way the
trunks flared wide into
ground, the smells. In
the mirror, my father’s
face, time for work,
the way he shaved.
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I have been awake
for hours yet still
I remember the big
trees — the road I
walked, the way the
trunks flared wide into
ground, the smells. In
the mirror, my father’s
face, time for work,
the way he shaved.
How odd that I read this one after the moon poem. Memories and how they’re recalled. So strange.
memories can be a wellspring for writing, nostalgia, even, if not too kitchy
i think it’s interesting how the senses can trigger memories. we use this, i think, in poetry
Interesting which memories float by in the night when one can’t sleep, isn’t it? Those childhood memories, though old memories, are so often strong ones. I enjoyed your poem, and you triggered some of my own childhood memories.
I really like how you used enjambment–the breaks in the line made it feel like just the kind of places and the way insomniacs think in the middle of the nigh. Enjoyed it, Ray.
really intriguing progression in this…love the intimacy in that last bit…imagining you looking at your own face and seeing his…and shaving the way you watched him….pretty cool man…
the mirror, exactly! you are a good reader
sometimes we do remember certain things without any apparent reason… nice creation.
thank you
it’s fascinating what and how we remember – really cool memories ray – made me think of when i watched my grand dad shave – he had a real shaving knife back then and tons of foam – i found this so fascinating
shaving is a hypnotic ritual
Few words, much said.
thank you 🙂
There is a stillness, a quietitude in this piece that lends well into the experiences of the memory, they way they exist in our minds. Quite memorable indeed, peace, Jason
It’s incredible the images that float by at the most random times and can evoke such nostalgia. Nice write!
Wonderful list. I love this poem!