Treasure Island

Martin O'Neill

(20-06-1958 / Solihull, Birmingham, England)

From Nowhere


I cut myself on a memory today,
Walked into it, unsuspecting.
My breath left me
Lungs voided by the impact,
The lemon-sharp
Clarity.
It's with me still, somewhere.
An emotional embolism
Waiting to bring me down
In the quiet time.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, February 22, 2012

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  • Lynn Cohen (3/15/2012 11:03:00 AM)

    This poem begins by taking the reader's breath away - what an image: cut myself on a memory. Then it goes on to position the memory as having immediate, present-day impact and effect, a current, living thing. Very strong writing. (Report) Reply

  • Ruth Walters (3/7/2012 7:30:00 PM)

    a wonderful description of emotion here.....bringing the human race together, each one of us with those memories we 'bump into'. Mine bump into me these days, when I'm trying to focus on other things......pescy blighters, always bothering me, heh heh (Report) Reply

  • Patti Masterman (3/2/2012 6:52:00 PM)

    I like the idea here, and especially that first line of course- one of those 'grab ya'
    lines that pulls in a reader, and your following lines are perfect for the theme. (Report) Reply

  • Gone Away (3/1/2012 9:45:00 AM)

    I especially love the first line of this Martin... a memory that draws blood. (Report) Reply

  • Micmac Mccrory (2/23/2012 4:10:00 AM)

    I've walked into sharp old memories a few times myself. Thank you for the memory. An evocative journey. i like this.
    Micmac (Report) Reply

  • Unwritten Soul (2/22/2012 5:20:00 AM)

    From nowhere it came, from nowhere it reside to call you tell you where you were and what we have done...It maybe makes you thing that just bring you down but it's not..It just telling you there's up there's down so be strong in the road we have now..a reminder from nowhere, as nowhere in you cant find but somewhere inside..still with you forever_Unwritten Soul (Report) Reply

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/22/2012 3:23:00 AM)

    I like this poem for its graphic portrayal of what a memory does to us and how excellently you painted the portrait in words. (Report) Reply

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