maybe it wasn’t really meant to be
as it was wont to be tho’ now and again i
remember once it happened i can barely recollect
reality has a way of fading away
into the past into the dreams like photographs
anyone can see how happy it was perhaps was it a dream too
gathering in the cobwebby corners of attic memories
enveloped in clouds of dust
insipid memoirs of forgotten pasts
somehow surface from bottomless cavernous chests
(never before disturbed)
opening pandora’s mysteries escaping
tiny creatures flitting fleet shadows
echoing echoes of murmurs from murky prints
aspirations caught in time frozen
silenced by the settling dust spiders spinning webs around
you stepping stealthily trying not to stir the memories.
© Cindy Lapeña, 2012
Return to Poetry
Putting together a blog is not easy.
In the first place, what do you say that you don’t mind the rest of the world knowing?
It’s also a challenging exercise. You need to figure out what to put in your blog and what to keep out.
There’s one thing I have to say for blogs: it’s a great way to organize your past.
I’ve been wanting to sort out all the bits and pieces of the past that I’ve been keeping in all kinds of little boxes forever. Doesn’t everyone have a little box or two or three somewhere with things you just can’t throw out? Little things that remind you of incidents in your life that you might otherwise have forgotten?
I could never get all sorted out and organized the way I imagined I should because there never really was any pressure to do it. But now that I’ve got a blog that I’ve got to fill up with things, all of a sudden, I’m pressured. Besides, all my friends are digging up their old pictures from elementary school and posting them on Facebook and other places. I know I’ve got a bundle of pictures somewhere…everywhere.
I’ll be opening up those boxes now, one by one. I’ll be reading old notes and letters that are yellowed and torn at the edges or crumbling. Well, not really–that’s just waxing poetic, but you get my meaning. But honestly, some of them are crumbling. I’ll be scanning each and every little souvenir and letter and photograph and note and card so I’ll have an on-line scrapbook that’ll be an autobiography of sorts, as well.
And I will be baring myself to the world.