Pushed Aside

Member since 2002 · Posted 14 Mar 2003 · Edited 14 Mar 2003 · 2 comments

My memory, a picture show Never ending and always sending Images that I can't touch They're there--vivid as the light to my eyes People and places that will always be Etched in my heart but no longer with me A postcard from my past How I wish I was there But it is too far to travel Too far? Too impossible... As feelings are stirred up within me What I see I realize can no longer be Time and circumstance are my foes They've taken so much, yet they leave with me Reminders of their stolen spoils With closed eyes I wish That I could steal back what's been taken But my hopes have been forsaken The joy of today is so happily swept away To be consumed by the pages of the past I have to forget everything from yesterday Because memories have too high a price to pay Everything ends up in the past No matter what, nothing can last... --Rick Gebhardt 3/11/2003

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2 comments

[n/a] god'swife 14-Mar-03/9:24 PM Reply

Jesus, how do you people go about writing about images and then never revealing even one? A picture show? What picture show? Stolen spiols? what stolen spoils? Where!? People & places? What people? What places? A postcard from where????????!!!!!!! what the fuck all are you talking about?

[n/a] x311 › god'swife 15-Mar-03/7:43 AM Reply

I think you are missing a part of poetry, and that is the fact that each person should take their own interpretation of it. If every image in a poem or novel were to be laid out and described in detail at every portion of the book/poem, there would never be any room for interpreting it in different ways. Stolen spoils--could be my youth, could be the life of your mother--it is all in your eyes. A postcard from my sixth grade science class or maybe from your church camp--it's open to the reader's mind. Spelling everything out would take away from flexibility and relatability of the poem. Do you understand now?