Wednesday 17 December 2014

Where sense and senseless doesn't make sense....

Memories are books in a shelf,
I pick titles and then they turn pages;
home, where you lived as a kid
never seizes to be a favourite title
                                                                                    with pages as many as stars,
Saturday nights came as chocolates,
 Sunday mornings as bread, butter, egg and milk
when sleeping a bit more was fun,
when ache never was attached with heart
but wounds, lost toys and silly matters
when butterflies, shiny pebbles, broken china vase
were precious;
memories get hurt, even existence, when you learn
that beyond a made-up boundary
 many dreams that weren't even
old enough to taste memories were crushed;
their Sunday bread and butter will remain unserved
as bleeding sour wounds bearing relentless curse;
aches, all hearts ache,
those who crushed,
I hope, have never been attached
with bread-and-butter Sundays…






12 comments:

  1. There's also an ache such words and topics evoke in us...I felt it tuging at my heart strings with each line of yours.
    Beautiful Shreeja!

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  2. Building up from personal to collective memory - very powerful and well-balance piece of work!

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  3. I fear the monsters were also little children once creating memories, but they must have forgotten. Iti s too much to fit onto shelves, too much. Wonderful poem! (Do you mean "to taste memories w.e.r.e. crushed"?)

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    1. Thank you so much.....yes it is 'were'....I corrected it.......

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  4. So sad when children never will grow up with those fond memories of sunday bread.. A lovely concept really.

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  5. it is sad when we forget... brought to mind a scene from the movie ratatouille where the stiff and mean guy suddenly finds that way back to his childhood memories again through a simple dish..

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  6. ugh, painful memories... Indeed, I hope those aren't attached to a peaceful bread and butter sunday... sadly for some, it is..

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  7. nice...a fresh turn on the bread...life was so much simpler then, wasnt it...our problems seemed just as big in the moment but...i would rather sleep in...and have some bread n butter sundays

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  8. With the recent events of the killing of those children, I feel so sad that they can't wake up to a simple bread and butter Sundays ~

    Thanks for linking up Sreeja ~ Have a lovely week ~

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  9. Memories are books in a shelf,
    I pick titles and then they turn pages;
    home, where you lived as a kid
    never seizes to be a favourite title

    Perfect opening Sreeja! There can never be a better beginning to get ideas moving but home. Home is where the heart is and it is certainly an inspiration!

    Hank

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  10. This was such a moving piece Sreeja! Poignant, and some of your lines really stayed with me - especially the closing.

    Prajakta

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  11. A Poignant tale .... very beautifully illustrated.

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