Poem: The Memory | Arthritis Information

I wrote this poem last week. It seemed to have a mind of it’s own. I didn’t set out to make it quite so dark and morbid, but writing for me is a way of expressing feelings I don’t always understand, so it is what it is. I have strong memories of my grandparent’s house in a small town in Oklahoma…particularly strong is an image of an old wooden rocking chair. I used to sit and rock, listening to the sound of the motion of the chair against the hardwood floors and daydream…creating stories and adventures in my mind. It is a very pleasant memory. Sometimes when pain and suffering seem intolerable we retreat to such memories and find comfort, but is it real…or just an illusion that distracts us from the path we are destined to walk? No answers here…just a longing to exorcise that deep feeling of uncertainty and restlessness, with a tinge of despair, that sometimes casts a shadow on the soul.

The Memory

By Alan Duncan

To taste the pain, a nauseous whirring,

Invoking sighs, a cautious stirring

Of blinking neurons, a neurotic wheezing,

Sliding into night, a desperate seizing.

Stop, take heart, let mind dissolve to memory,

A gentle breeze that nurtures sensory

Images of time spent cocooned in bliss,

Oblivious to reality’s sputtering hiss.

Awake to hear the rocking chair,

Squeaking on wooden floors bare,

A grandmother’s gift to a restless boy,

Transforming sighs to reckless joy.

Back and forth in lightning’s glow,

The ship’s deck heaving to and fro,

Cannons thunder, shrieking rain,

Long lost images from a restless brain.

Sucked back to present misery,

The memory tugging tenderly,

A warming glow to stop the flow

Of fear surging high and low.

Rocking feet to a gentle beat,

Dancing to adventure, a fearless feat,

Imagined pirate shouts with glee,

A fantasy fiend that rules the sea.

Yet darkness falls, enshrouding all

In shadowed garments of funeral pall,

Pain expressing, a priest confessing,

The turmoil of a mind obsessing.

Escape to dream, a primal scream,

Impaling hope on a salty beam,

The ship turns, straining to measure

A phantom’s stride to a sunken treasure.

The ship sets sail in a single tear,

Encased in glass composed of fear,

A fragile entity, consuming enmity,

Wallowing in a sea of pity.

The pain returns, insulting hope,

A frantic grope, to loose the rope

That suffocates the breath of life,

Impaling dreams on a rusty knife.

Billowing sails turn to the wind,

Solid oak masts creak and bend,

The call of the sea shivers the heart,

Splitting the mind and soul apart.

The glitter of gold, enticing the bold

To tread depths, icy and cold,

Slipping to darkness, the gathering gloom,

Sucking consciousness to impending doom.

Only the pain, unceasing strain,

Gasping for breath to sustain

Life, weakening resistance

To gnawing, consuming persistence.

A boy’s fantasy, erodes reality,

Capturing a hint of eternity,

Rocking back and forth while spinning a tale,

Hiding behind memory’s vale.

Lost at last, immersed in a dream,

Faint whispers of a smothered scream,

The pain ceased, the burden released,

The final triumph, reality deceased.

WOW! No amature here. I had to read and read and I don't think I have it all yet. Had to save this one.

Such a powerful, touching poem. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Thanks for your kind comments. I thought you might enjoy this poem. It speaks of the same longing to hold on to dreams and memories that slowly slip away, yet also questions their reality...from one of my favorite poets. I think many of us can relate to standing "amid a surf tormented shore" trying to grasp what is slowly lost. Sometimes it's good to just sit and feel what you need to feel...even if it's sad and brings waves of melancholy...for from such naked honesty comes healing and rest.

Alan

A Dream Within A Dream
by Edgar Allen Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

That is just beautiful Alan - thank you.

well well well we seem to have a poet! i love poetry, its one of my favorite things to read and from reading a lot of poetry sometimes the ones that feel or seem "dark" are the ones that bring us the brightest feelings! i would love to read more of what you wrote. I've read my fare share of poe and i always feel the same way....intrigued and not thrilled. thank you very much for sharing!

-Jessica

My poems and others are posted in RA Sushi in the "Novice novelists,..." forum if you'd like to read them.

http://rasushi.jconserv.net/index.php

As always, I love your work. I really identify with this stanza:

The pain returns, insulting hope,

A frantic grope, to loose the rope

That suffocates the breath of life,

Impaling dreams on a rusty knife.

It tells so much about your inner soul and the struggle. In the end, the memories give you courage to win. Same little boy, grown into a man, still fighting a faceless fiend. I use the same kinds of paths to distract myself from the pain. If my imagination goes deep enough, the pain is hidden, dissolved in the fantasy.

It's a beautiful poem and a beautiful way of dealing with it.