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TOPIC: Moving-on

Moving-on 3 months 3 weeks ago #3117545

  • Poetryman
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Moving-On

Wanting to move–on but wanting to stay.
Clinging to the sweet memories of yesterday,
World turned upside down Feeling so strange.
With emotions so fresh, is it possible to change?

So many years life’s journey was complete.
A picture perfect package wrapped up so neat.
Someone, who understood and truly cared,
Devoted and trusted so many dreams shared.

But life goes on when one chapter ends.
Struggling to breathe as the heart mends.
It is said, time is the healer of wounds deep.
And God knows every tear that we weep.

But the past is over; it will never be the same.
Walking alone struggling to learn a solo game,
Cling to the memories but don’t let them darken the day.
God has a new purpose His love will guide the way.

Moving-on is words so easy to say but scary indeed.
No answer found in a popular self-help book to read.
A choice must be made to return the joy to daily living.
Trust in the good Lord and His perfect peace will be given.

Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.
Proverbs 23:18

Poetryman
Nov. 24 2018 ©
2Gbtg!!!
The following user(s) said Well Said: Connifer, Heather

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Moving-on 3 months 3 weeks ago #3117563

  • Connifer
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I like your poem at lot Poetryman!
I've written things about remembrance in poetry version before, but most on a now-defunct senior site seemed to like this prose version best:

Wearing memories like a worn cloak of time...
Every thread a small, nearly forgotten echo of some childhood tune.
A random pattern of thoughts, like wind-tossed leaves on the patio; each one ceasing as suddenly as it began.

The hull of my ship is somewhat encrusted from all those memories, wishes and hopes... My callused hands still holding to emotion-sail's ropes...
My heart is first mate, my course to it entrusted.

I believe memories are when our spirits whisper into our ears... A gentle reminder of accepting ourselves without condition. Like the sky accepts the trees, and the grass caresses the hallowed soil of Earth. That blessed periphery of perspective, leading to a deeper understanding of self.

Often memories are brilliant and fleeting, like a lighthouse beam brushing a passing ship...gone before full recognition can enfold them. Other times they are silent clouds forming in the outskirts of consciousness, billowing with wondrous discovery and slowly dissipating moisture from the tears of yesteryear.

Silent as midnight stars...precious as pearls from an ocean of being. They mix with emotion and stir our hearts into wistful yearning...crows echoing in a distant cornfield...crickets that become harder to notice with the approach of autumn. They are crouched in the hollows of the heart until a cathartic catalyst gently blows them from their sanctuary of solitude.

Memories are like molecules of being, twirling in elegant dances to the curvature of love, amidst the rhythm of everything we are.
We cannot grow without them, and they cannot exist without us to recall them to fruition. A blessed symbiosis that helps us to love who we've become and who we yearn to be.

I have often wondered when special memories are accessed, do they not seem like crystalline drops that ripple outward in the pool of our souls and intersect with others who may be remembering the same in their pools? Co-mingling memories that find each other, even when we do not.

Finally, I've realized that memories are quite often friends that comfort us in times of need or when feeling less content with ourselves.
I shall end this with the following quote, that encapsulates the idea with eloquence...
"In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold." [John Leonard]
The following user(s) said Well Said: Poetryman, Heather

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Moving-on 3 months 3 weeks ago #3118133

  • garland 2
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Thank you for the poem....great.
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