Monday, August 16, 2010

This Morning


This morning was easier
than yesterday morning,
or yesterday's yesterday morning.
I did not think about you.
Not your scent,
Or your touch,
Or your face.
There was just a vague feeling
Of hunger
and the aroma
of pancakes and eggs.

There was a sense
Of losing
something important.

But I brushed it off
and downed the misery
with honey and milk.

Sometimes there is victory
in forgetting
and defeat in remembrance.


Photo taken here.

14 comments:

  1. What's the story, morning glory?

    ReplyDelete
  2. sometime there is victory
    in forgetting
    and defeat in remembrance.


    Planj! Winniebelles!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yeah, too much cloying syrup on pancakes will make you regret and want to forget. Sweet!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yeah, I wonder what the back story is. Someone posted something on google buzz this morning and i remembered it when I read your post. (I'm mostly bad at remembering stuff so this isn't verbatim) It sucks when you forget things you're suppose to remember but it feels worse when you remember things you're supposed to regret.

    ReplyDelete
  5. hey...thank you for the comment..thank you very much..you know...you're the first person who commented on my blog...so thank you ver much....I'll surely write about whay you said:love,friendship...:D:D..thank you again..:D

    ReplyDelete
  6. @rudeboy and cityboy: old poem about an old story. i'll tell it some other time. :-)

    @carrie: thanks.

    @peter: hahaha. that's one way of looking at it.

    @tabzy: hey no prob. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  7. hope you had just the right amount of honey.

    was the milk non-fat? ;-)

    beautiful poem. no tinge of pain felt.

    ReplyDelete
  8. "Sometimes there is victory
    in forgetting
    and defeat in remembrance."

    - not if you have sharp memory. hehe. everything passes, even heartache, once you have new memories to topple/override the pain with :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  10. And it ebbs, as it heaves. Soon it will be as faint as the sharp morning dew. As effervescent as the last rays of the sun at dusk. Fleeting reminders that one cannot hold on to, contain, preserve. Maybe it's better that way.

    When the memory is but a story, and the boy is but a dream.

    ReplyDelete
  11. @kiks: thanks.

    @firewoman: and sometimes memories can be too sharp. :-)

    @red: like poetry dude. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  12. Lovely lovely lovely.

    Can't really say anything more.

    (An unusual feeling for me, really.) ;-)

    - B x

    ReplyDelete
  13. I like poems like these, it catches a part of me I have repressed ages ago. I hope you would post more...

    ReplyDelete
  14. @Barreness and glentot: thank you.

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...