Some Times Poem by Martin Swords
Some Times
Sometimes
Time is measured
In Christmas decorations
Minute baubles and second
Sets of lights. A treefull.
Hours in attics reaching the
Back wall where the good stuff is.
Silver Birds in black tissue paper
not to be used. They were Nana’s.
The Crib in the cardboard held by
Five years’ sticky tape.
The old figures with the three legged
Donkey and the chewed-up
Baby Jesus in the manger.
Meg, had left her mark.
This yearly task,
The Getting Down,
The Putting Up,
The Taking Down,
The Putting Away Again
Flimsy boxes, treasured memories.
Sometimes
At The Putting Away,
Thoughts come unbidden
Of the next Getting Down.
Martin Swords 15 January 2008
Written at Vale de Pinta Lagoa Portugal
Things get broken with time - though they are idols and images
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/15/2024 11:01:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Another glowing picture Martin - and such a warming read. We feel we now know Nana's little birds, not to be used, and can see poetically, Meg's mark left on the crib..... clever use of memory can be absorbing, as this surely is. Thank you for sharing this Martin. A sure 10 +. from Fay.