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Array ( [sid] => 181810 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Pricetags [time] => 2015-09-18 00:38:18 [hometext] => There is a loss for every gain- some gains are not worth it, m'thinks. [bodytext] =>

Where did It go?
Where did It fall- forgotten, abandoned?
Lost for? and in what, when?
Blame the years?
Forgotten tears dripped away in the ebb, the flow?
So long gone, does one even care or know,
or if they remember they ever had It at all?

Why is Wonder put to rest?
Folded away
like Grandmas threadbare quilt;
sweet for the memory, aught for warmth,
consigned to the cedar trunk oh so rarely opened;
fools we are,
more concerned the sweet woody scent
may escape confines devoted to Grandma's ghost
rather than spent on what we consider unworthy ends;
At least, or most,
gauging our present, our now,
our olfactory pleasures a trifle.
Oh, heroic denial!
No wonder a'tall our Wonder is stifled.

This riff born in life between ourselves and us;
now afraid of rain;
our hair, our shirt, we simply can't let-
“Oh, my umbrella! Protect and shield
me from this vile wet!'

There was a time, for all of us,
when Wonder sparked freely as fire through our every cell,
burning, igniting joy- hop by hop, hair to hair;
then, oh, then,
the bare rain pummeled like liquid puddles of happiness;
thunder and lightening skipped wondrous waves before,
back when we reveled in It
and umbrellas weren't even known-
before we were taught, then thought we needed protection,
childishly thinking we're grown.
[comments] => 5 [counter] => 294 [topic] => 44 [informant] => Invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Nostalgic )

Pricetags

Contributed by Invierno on Friday, 18th September 2015 @ 12:38:18 AM in AEST
Topic: Nostalgic

Where did It go?
Where did It fall- forgotten, abandoned?
Lost for? and in what, when?
Blame the years?
Forgotten tears dripped away in the ebb, the flow?
So long gone, does one even care or know,
or if they remember they ever had It at all?

Why is Wonder put to rest?
Folded away
like Grandmas threadbare quilt;
sweet for the memory, aught for warmth,
consigned to the cedar trunk oh so rarely opened;
fools we are,
more concerned the sweet woody scent
may escape confines devoted to Grandma's ghost
rather than spent on what we consider unworthy ends;
At least, or most,
gauging our present, our now,
our olfactory pleasures a trifle.
Oh, heroic denial!
No wonder a'tall our Wonder is stifled.

This riff born in life between ourselves and us;
now afraid of rain;
our hair, our shirt, we simply can't let-
“Oh, my umbrella! Protect and shield
me from this vile wet!'

There was a time, for all of us,
when Wonder sparked freely as fire through our every cell,
burning, igniting joy- hop by hop, hair to hair;
then, oh, then,
the bare rain pummeled like liquid puddles of happiness;
thunder and lightening skipped wondrous waves before,
back when we reveled in It
and umbrellas weren't even known-
before we were taught, then thought we needed protection,
childishly thinking we're grown.

Copyright Â© Invierno ... [ 2015-09-18 00:38:18]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Pricetags (User Rating: 1 )
by Archie on Friday, 18th September 2015 @ 03:06:24 AM AEST
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I agree with this, now everything is about speed and money. Teamwork is frowned upon in lieu of independence creating a lonely world. I miss the rain

Re: Pricetags (User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on Friday, 18th September 2015 @ 10:52:24 AM AEST
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This riff born in life between ourselves and us.

Such a loaded line you have written. I keep coming back to that one line that just seems to sum it all up.

Yes, when did we become so important that the real important moments fell by the wayside? Why should we abandon such simple glee for life and the unknown once we "grow up".
When did growing up become such stodgy business that we forgot to experience the pleasure of wonder?

So much slips away as time marches forward. We start out so emotionally and mentally full, and too often by the end, we are a mere shell of our once robust selves.

I still stubbornly relish the rain, and the simple joy of dancing and jumping in thunderstorms and puddles. I know I must look a fool, but who cares.
A little rain is good for the soul. So is Lego, at times. ;)

Thanks for sharing. I will think of this poem later when I am enjoying the rain.

~Scorp

Re: Pricetags (User Rating: 1 )
by ming on Friday, 18th September 2015 @ 02:22:52 PM AEST
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This read makes me know that clinging as tight as I can to my child-like inner me will always be wroth it. Thanks for that. :)

ming

Re: Pricetags (User Rating: 1 )
by softerware on Saturday, 19th September 2015 @ 02:13:11 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Miracles and wonder turn into oughts and shoulds.
Hardening of the attitudes.
Youth never thinks of looking foolish to others.
But where would we be without the steady guidance of the elder to keep us from standing on the roof thinking a pillowcase can make us fly?
Children smell of the warm earth; Adults of cedar!
So many, too soon, are far too wise.

softerware

Re: Pricetags (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Sunday, 20th September 2015 @ 01:02:11 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

like this, just got the news, an old fried is about to die
She was a good friend, however, I always took her for granted somehow.
She was the family Van, needs a new transmission,
She's too old for that, so it's time for us to part.
See - the thing is, she was first purchased when my son was just a little baby, now he's getting ready to graduate high school.
It's not the price of new vehicles that bothers me so much as the loss of the old one who served us as a family so well, I guess.

But then, she's only a Van.

Her name was Gertrude, Gertrude is a funny name
Her full name was Gertrude Van Stein.

Peace!

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