time stopped after faces smiled--
squinting at square time-capsuled windows
books packed, amber remains to portray
slices of cryogenic experience

yellowed paper in brittle plastic sheathes
stare back at me-- voices call
to the nowhere places that are not
wishing, wondering, "what if?"
--look for some dimensional door

some resemble me too, horribly so
the mocker looks artificial, waxen
I've decided-- these are not me at all
so out of phase with the present
yet there is an insane urge to travel back
just to see

baffled between the then and now
a suppressed scream grasps the reality
that most of those mummies smiling back
are now dust and bones
taunting with unresolved memories
reminders of our dying,
frame by frame--


emotional painmemorysadturn back time

◄ Kenyan Morning

A Certain Valentine ►


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Brian Hodgkinson

Thu 11th Feb 2021 00:22

Keith, like you, I am not a fan of photos. Like you, I have a vivid memory and imagination and find photos to be misleading. This isn't a criticism of anyone who loves old photos, it's just my preference. I do not enjoy my picture being taken. I once had a girlfriend who had pictures of her dead sister who had just died of breast cancer. To each, their own...

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keith jeffries

Wed 10th Feb 2021 22:50

Brian, thank you for this poem. In recent times I have had little regard for photos, placing more emphasis on memories as a means of recall. I see photos as images frozen in time that portray a moment and not much else. My albums lay unopened as I am blessed with a fertile imagination and a good memory.


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Brian Hodgkinson

Wed 10th Feb 2021 19:42

Thank you, Aviva. I know you are "a sensitive" as I am. 😯

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Wed 10th Feb 2021 18:25

Haunting thoughts. I feel like that sometimes when I look at photos and this poem expresses it so well.

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