EARLY MEMORIES
In another place and time, where memories abound,
their re-collections are, in telling, sometimes skewed.
Motion picture images and musical messages bring
us back again to revisit days long gone, reviewed.
Distance has blurred events and circumstances
that accompanied their passing footage frames.
Horses, people too, flickering, backwards across the screen.
Never quite have understood how Dad could back up trains.
We all danced to the old familiar tunes, and sang ‘till voices strained.
At family get togethers we shared food, our gifts and blessings.
Sometimes we shared tears and sorrow, as death could only measure,
the lifetimes of loved ones we remember, fondly missing.
Wedding vows, marriages, children, laughing, playing.
Birthdays and parties, days of sunny weather,
the chill of winter’s wind, the warmth of days to treasure.
More than fifty years, returned on reels, spliced hocus-pocus.
Come flooding, cracked celluloid dreams not quite in focus,
of Christmases, Easters, Thanksgivings, reunions’ picnics,
parks, vacation trips, fishing, camping, campgrounds’ ruckus.
Puzzles pieced, cherished quilts also, paintings, magic tricks.
Life-times, laugh-lines, growing up and old, gaining pounds,
still seeking wisdom, weren’t we promised it in our youth,
that it would come when we grew older and understood the truth?
The truth is seen, in mirrors reflected, no take-up reels re-wound!
Wrinkles, gray hair, we wear bi-focals on our faces,
but we still think young and though we’ve lost a step or two,
our love has grown, for each other, stronger through the ages.
You’re still beautiful. You consider me a handsome fool.
We have connections, we belong to each other’s heart,
we grew up together, best friends, through all tomorrows,
whatever changes we will remain such until death do us part.
The Great Director up above has had the script right from the start.
He made us all, the cast and crew of "Early Memories",
a whole variety show, filmed slices of sense and nonsense
with accompanying flaws, we’re captured for posterity,
few scenes did he edit, nothing on the cutting room floor.
His techniques, which I adapted, filming thumbs and the like,
double-exposures recorded David’s birthday riding a horse and trike.
Filmed lovingly, if not with skill. If your head aches from viewing
doubles, set the projector on pause, get up and take a pill.
The head ache will pass, but the heart aches may linger,
when you view the back of someone’s head, dark Christmas trees,
two-to-be wedded, both unknowns, recognized, a thumb and finger,
mini-series, generations of storied dimensions, horse shoe games with vigor.
Fractured time capsules, developed, canned, reeled and spliced,
re-produced, somewhat edited, times past, now compressed,
copied onto video tapes to share with families and friends, who else?
Brought to you by Cobb & Co. Studio Arts, better known as Bob &
Lorna.
Sorry, all of you who may fret and moan about seeing un-photogenic sides,
but re-takes are quite impossible, now that we are miles apart and grown.
The light bar has died that blinded all our eyes, no more flashes, only
darkness,
we fade to black, no more frames, b & w, nor color scenes in bright
sunlight!
This
poem has been revised, edited from the original text, written quite a few
years ago. It is my hope that you may recognize that the poetry has
improved, along with my poetic skill. View the video at least one more
time again, the staccato glimpses of planes in flight, backward-walking
glances, kids once more, without cares or apologies, nor any malcontent.
I re-dedicate this poem in memory to my Dad, John J. Cobb, with all due
respect. His life was spent in serving youth, a Scouter until the end.
"Early Memories"…this poem is over-done, but the memories remain, unfaded,
along with the Bell and Howell... images that have burned holes into my
brain.
