Vic

Vic


 

Old photographs
Smudged and dog-eared
Sepia, black and white
Yellowed and faded
Frozen memories
Mementoes of a life
 
Polaroid snapshots
Kodak moments
Pictures from an old Canon
Taken over the years
Capturing the good times
Yet it’s all an illusion
 
In boxes, in the attic
In albums, on a shelf
In frames, on the walls
Ubiquitous reminders
Of seemingly a happy past
But she knows it’s false
 
An old prom photo
She and her boyfriend
Dancing and having fun
Where are the pictures
When he dumped her
Even before summer began?
 
Happy birthday snapshots
Of her only daughter…
She’s smiling so bright
But no prints exist
Of when her baby was sick
And she stayed up all night
 
A picture of a kiss
She glows; she’s in ecstasy
In a frame made of chrome;
But no cameras around
On those many nights
When he didn’t come home
 
Old photographs
Faded keepsakes
Tell only half her story
As if life’s a bed of roses
Happy remembrances; no tears
Never the misery
 
But they’re her treasures
Testimonials to a life lived
Of her time on earth
That once upon a time
She was young and beautiful
For all that is worth
 
On her night table, a picture
The love of her life
With herself and her daughter
As she drifts to sleep, she asks:
Is that singular happy moment,
All that life has to offer?
 
06-19-2015
© Vic A Evora

A sad poem. One of the saddest I have written. Life is not always a party, it is made up of a few happy moments that we choose to remember. To make living less of a drudgery.

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J Ann Crowder
over 2 years

May be sad, but still beautiful. I really loved this!

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Thank you Jenifer. Sometimes, in sadness we find hope.

Mar Japitana
over 2 years

Beautiful poem. You have caprured poignantly life's reality happy and sad moments fill our cup in different measures. With faith, hope and love one can claim that one's life is half full. Thanks for sharing your insights poetically. All the best.

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Thank you pare...

Charlotte B. Williams
over 2 years

This is true, these are feelings we all have experienced at some time with memories, but hopefully as life goes on our good experiences will out weigh the bad.

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Indeed! Thanks for liking Charlotte

Nelson D Reyes
over 2 years

The hurt we feel from the loss of something precious to us or someone we love can take a long time to heal, some cases never.
But we take comfort knowing that we were loved and we reciprocated the best we could, that we cherished the good memories related in times of laughters and sadness. Images of those times are reminders that somehow ease our pains and put a smile in our face, we recall happy moments and had nurtured none of the sad ones. That's probably why we say life is not a bowl of cherries, we accept, we let go. That's probably why we frame and hang pictures of sweet memories. That's probably why time is a healer.

Good pondering poem, Brod. Like.

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Thank you for liking, Brod. And thanks for the great analysis. :)

Yes, we seem to record only happy moments for posterity. If extra-terrestrials come to audit our lives based on the pictures and mementos we keep, they will most likely conclude that we all lead happy lives, that tears are non-existent, and that sadness is not a human emotion...

Ingeborg von Finsterwalde/Waltraud I Mack
over 2 years

Sad, but oh so true. Yet a very beautiful poem.

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Thank you Ingeborg. I'm glad you like it despite the poem's sadness.

Barb Clarke
over 2 years

It's true, life is hard, all we can do is learn from our sorrow, maybe then our hearts
become wider and can hold more love, more joy. Maybe then we can die
in peace and hope we have made the world a better place to live. Nice poem
Vic.

Vic
Vic
over 2 years

Thank you Barb. I know it is a pessimistic way of looking at life, but I wrote this poem a while back. And even if circumstances happened to make my outlook more optimistic, I decided to keep the poem as is.

Liked or faved by...

Nelson D Reyes J Ann Crowder Cory Garcia Charlotte B. Williams Francis Ingeborg von Finsterwalde/Waltraud I Mack Persis Cursetji
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