Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle # 59
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/
send, rain, think, sound, light, marvelous,
beneath, force, blinds, falling, water, little
The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #250
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
news, road, bit, show, flow, after,
map, trance, mass, chant, rant, block
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #301
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
Waterfalls and Memory
It was Autumn, a road trip
in search of falling water.
Beneath the flow of memories
lies a feeling of unease, a block
of light and sounds that send
her reeling away, almost in panic.
Remembers very little, a map, some
rain, a motel room, her daughter’s rant,
chanting her usual list of perceived
wrongs, but it’s all just bits, pieces
of a news show caught at a side glance.
Trance-like movement lacking meaning.
Thinking afterward: a marvelous mass
of messed up memories that blind her
with force of a water fall, rushing, gushing
race to dash itself against hard stone, then
in blink of an eye disappearing underground,
gone but never quite
forgotten.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/8/16
Notes: Road trip was over a weekend. When I looked at the lists, saw the words, falling, water, and knew what I would write about. But the memories only came in flashes and isolated moments, and with an uneasy feeling. So that became the poem. Three days ago, my sister and I went to visit our mother’s grave site. We talked about our memories of different things and she asked me why I have such detailed recall of things, while she can’t remember what happened last week. Told her it was because of all the writing I do and all the years I’ve been doing it. Then came the word lists and the realization that perhaps there are things I still don’t wish to remember. My life was drastically altered shortly after the road trip, and that has obviously altered, perhaps even distorted those memories. Which only means I will have to do more writing.
Image is a photo taken several years ago, at the Dells of The Eau Claire. Another road trip, this one with my sister.
Soul's Music 
Thinking afterward: a marvelous mass
of messed up memories that blind her
with force of a water fall
Very true Elizabeth! Writings are the exercises to the mind. Poets obviously are blessed. It gets the booster when one is all fired up with new inspiration. Great discovery!
Hank
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That blink of an eye was very touching – like blinking away a teardrop but not an ordinary teardrop one that may at times feel like a waterfall..others dry and scratchy like crying stones…words do cleanse..flush..remember these moments..that is why we must keep writing i suppose – a peaceful Sunday to you xo
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gone but never quite
forgotten…
These words are timeless.. as they signify that no matter how much time tends to pass.. our memories (especially of our loved ones) always remain in our hearts. Beautifully written.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
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I wonder if we gloss thing over even if we do recall the sights… It was not always easy to try to keep together in a cramped environment.
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Yes, sometimes a person does wish to be able to stop the flow of those memories, especially when what happened were a time that one leaves one with a feeling of unease. Thankfully these memories rise and fall & disappear for a time…but are never quite ‘gone’ from one’s mind!
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Some memories play back in our minds like flashed lived by a character in a movie that we didn’t quite concentrate on. Your poem did so well at showing that flash-next-flash-next-flash effect. It’s like blinking through the lines, the scenes… Not being quite there, but still seeing bits of everything.
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I could feel the flow, rush, crash, disappearing yet lingering memories..so much power they have.. and why not, it’s made of a life lived….
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Our memories alter as we age…we see the flashes with a different eye I think….and sometimes I wish we didn’t. Beautiful poem.
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Gone but never quite forgotten………such verbal attacks do feel like water rushing over one’s well being………Beautifully written, as always, Elizabeth, and I always love your process notes. And Lord knows we have more than enough material for our writing, LOL.
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A lovely write…even though there was a bit of tripidation. A waterfall or falling water is a good metaphor for memories….the flow of the river…and only fragments remain.
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I particularly like the impact of the
gone but never quite
forgotten
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This is wonderful, and it feels utterly true to itself.
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Nice, Elizabeth. Snatches of memory mixed together.
Sometimes easier than others to make sense of the memories as they appear.
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a block of light and sounds .. such a fantastic image, perfectly describing that blur of memories!
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She looked for one waterfall and found another one entirely…
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