that huddle ’round me
soft and gentle
some dim
some vivid
through all my days
and all my nights
though you are gone
left much too soon
just in your springtime
you are here
quiet in my memories
I like
that you are still with me
in my heart
this recall is such sweet ache
other memories
from quite near
and far into the past
drift forward
mingled rich
through the years
their embrace
is soothing
warm as the sun
memories of others
I’ve been blessed to love
a tender tear
for every one
the places
this 6’ frame has been
the wonders
these hazel eyes have seen
the joys
that painted me
so brightly
the sorrows
that taught me
the depth of life
in these memories
there is a sweetness
it holds my heart
tempered
by just a touch
of soft regret
that at times
bowed this silvered head
my heart is full
my spirit calm
a peaceful surrender
to fate’s embrace
that precious
unfurled strand
from there to here
from then to now
would that these memories
never end
but soon
the flames of recall
will falter
as the lingering embers die
it’s then I’m prayer
when I am called
among the memories
would that I be
carried away
in stillness
delivered off
in sleep
forever wrapped
in all it is
I am
I am my memories
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2020
NOTE to “Blogger” site owners: I enjoy reading your work, but frustratingly, some “Blogger” sites DO NOT let me post comments? 🙂 So sorry if you don’t see personal comments from me on your “Blogger” site. But I will keep reading your work — and welcoming and responding to your comments here on Image & Verse.
I do not mean to sound morbid, Rob, but this should be read at your funeral. It speaks so eloquently of a life well-lived, its joys and sorrows, and a contentment in completion. It’s a beautiful, beautiful poem.
Thank you Bev. It is genuinely how I feel.
Beautiful words, Rob. My favorite part is the stanza that begins, “the places / this 6′ frame has been”
Thank you RW… 🙂
our memories certainly linger for where we’ve been and what we’ve done …
The sweet (sometimes bitter) after taste.
Serious work indeed, Rob. Same opening /closing line…very effective. And everything in-between: very well expressed. Salute.
Thank you Ron, very much!
Memories mingled rich through the years… What a great image as we find ourselves in the winter of our life. You have written a wonderful heartfelt poem. We come into this world with no memory and leave wrapped in all the memories of life. Well done Rob. Love the photos also!
Thank you Dwight. 🙂 We are at a similar stage in our lives, though I pray you are healthier than I am. Your compliment is meaningful to me. Drifting through my memories is like wandering a treasure trove — priceless!
Such a touching, poignant poem, but also a poem of gentle peace, Rob.
Thank you Lisa, you are always kind… 🙂
Exquisite work … Aging has certainly made me aware of how memories sustain us. My mother lost hers, I don’t want to lose mine.
Thank you Helen. Part of my underlying motivation for writing this piece is my current struggle with memory. I am an insulin-dependent, unstable diabetic — now for 25 years. I also have arterial sclerosis and suffering heart failure. I am so profoundly concerned. I do not want to lose my memories. So sorry about your mother.
This felt so honest. A nice memoir of a life well-lived.
Thank you… 🙂
I agree with Beverly – you find a sweet spot that’s soft without being sentimental. So much love, spoken so gently. Such treasure.
Thank you so much Sarah… 🙂
This poem brought a tear to my eye. It’s a really moving and emotional journey. These lines especially got to me:
the sorrows
that taught me
the depth of life
Made me think of Wordsworth ‘thoughts that do often lie to deep for tears.’ I love that your heart is full and your spirit calm: surely these are the hallmarks of a life well-lived.
Thank you Ingrid, I am pleased this touched you. Not really sure how well I’m living my life — but I continue to live tenaciously stubborn! 🙂
I love the circularity of your self-portrait poem, Rob, and the thought of memories huddled around you, a comforting hug. It’s so bitter-sweet and deeply touching. I also like the way you only hint at your physicality in the ‘6’ frame’, ‘hazel eyes’ and ‘silvered head’, focusing on heart, mind and spirit.
Thank you Kim! I only offer a small taste of the physical me — don’t want to overwhelm the folks… 😉
You’re right, we are our memories. We have so many and only so many of them can be shared. Who else knows or cares?
No one Jane…! 😉
“We are our memories,” …. such a profound statement and poem, Rob!
Thank you Sanaa… 🙂
I love the thought to be all those memories… though some of the memories are tainted with sorrow.
Good or bad Bjorn, they ultimately make us who we are, because this personal interpretation is what we hold within, after the moments of our life happen.
Memories make an apt analogy for life, holding all that you are, both physical and spiritual. And all within fate’s embrace.
Felt like truth as I wrote this Ken.
A wonderful photo as well..
Thank you Judy… 🙂
The photos are beautiful…..the words are beautiful……the soul of you is revealed in all its gentleness and caring and love. Thank you.
You are most welcome Lillian! I am pleased this piece touched you… 🙂 I always struggle with cold, hard, brutal aspects of life. It is always a battle, and I fight it tenaciously, mostly winning. And the tragedies always drive me to my knees, but I always stood back up. But my personal joy comes from the evidence of the creative human spirit — music, art, poetry, literature, genuine sport — it is herein these that I find my peace and fulfillment. It is herein I shun, and take shelter from the ugly. Though I understand the balancing necessity of life’e Yin & Yang — I choose to embrace the creative.
How lovely it would be to recall only the wonderful times in our lives.
Even though my son’s tragic death was unbearable at the time Sara, when i was finally able to begin thinking, without utter despair about him… without mourning, crying and being so deeply angry — the memories, after a year or so, moved through sorrowful, to bittersweet, to now my being soothed and so uplifted by beautiful, meaningful memories of “only“ him, not the devastating circumstance of his horrible death. Now I find great solace, even joy, in reflecting on my beautiful, gentle, talented (excellent singer, like I was at his age) — my fiercely handsome 18-year-old boy, my first son, my Aaron. Far too brief though his life was, I can’t imagine not having those memories of him, without having his wonderful life to celebrate, in my heart, and in my mind — in my soul.