Memory Museum

Memories
Displayed in a museum
My gallery
Exposing
My life’s moments
Sad, framed scenes
Portraits of despair
Hearts broken
Beyond repair
Strokes of blue dappled grey
Memories that refuse to fade
Yet, even in Van Gogh’s saddest work
Purple, pink, and gold splashes
Scatter hope

Joyous moments dance
Painting shimmering light
Of love
Laughter
Warm light
Buttery bright
But one mural hides
In the corner
Dark with doom
Reflecting Picasso’s
Fear and gloom
Overgrown anguish
And demanding doubts
Shaping chaos too big
To flout

I want to scream
Break my gallery’s
Sacred silence
Yet, I refuse to disturb
The patrons appreciating
Munch’s anxious art

My memory museum
Personal artwork
Some muted
Some bright
Capture fear
Capture fright
Yet, each work
A treasure
Valued
Only
By me

Cherish the days

Cherish the days spent together 
In no time young souls will grow old 
Cold nights cloaked in foggy weather 
Spark mem’ries of days gilded gold 

Earth turns night to day back to night 
New days might be our only chance 
To celebrate our common light 
Before slipping from our final glance 

Yes, cherish our days spent together 
‘fore fading the daylight so bright 
Into beamless darkness of never 
From the lone cold winter night

My mother

My mother
is a verb

While sleeping
as a young
child, I would
often awake
only to find Mom
working
on tasks left undone
during regular hours

I would find her
sewing
ironing or folding
freshly-washed
laundry
while quietly
watching
midnight shows
to keep her company

When she
would sleep
I did not know

Origin Story

I am from subtle chlorine smells
Lingering on skin
After hours-long stays
At the suburban community
Swimming pool

I am from dusky
Card games
Uno, Phase 10, Hand and Foot,
Played in backyard patios
As the hot summer breezes
Whisper a chill retreat

I am from lost toilet paper rolls
Missing from several house pantries
Eventually being discovered
Dangling from trees
Of an unsuspecting neighbor


My version of a poem inspired my George Ella Lyon. It’s a great model that many teachers use to guide their young poets to use imagery.

Ethereal

Golden rays
slice through darkly 
dappled clouds
scattering flashy flecks
of violet, indigo, and blue
the radiant hues
spray the valley gap 
starting at the tall mountain peaks
descending to the point
where the rocky mounds meet

I need a photograph
to preserve this moment
in my memory book
but I am on the highway
traveling was
the nearest off ramp 
miles away

The scene softens
colors blur
before I can break
for a side-road snapshot
thus today’s summer sunrise 
live with other memories
inside my mind