Posts Tagged ‘ memory ’

For You – Poem

For the memories shared,
For the times that you cared,
For the moments you ignore,
For the actions I abhore,
For the time that is lost,
For the vast emotional cost,
For the death in your eyes,
For all of the silly little lies,
For the titles I gave you,
For the privilege of the few,
For you throwing it in my face,
For giving up in the first place,
For the choices you’ve made,
For all the love to finally fade,
For the milestones you miss,
For the final goodbye kiss,
For all of the years,
For all of the tears,
For all of the pain,
For all of the rain,
For the distance you now run,
For the person you’ve become.

© Persephone M 12th March 2012

This came to me earlier on today and started off as something very different. Sometimes things just come to an end, after years of life together and all you could be left with are memories.

A bit different for the usual posts on Monday Memories!

~ Persephone M


Life’s Vase – Poem

Sun still shining, slowly setting
Not a cloud in the sky, clear blue for the square in front
Long green leaves ending in a point show the gentle breeze
Telephone wires high up and taut, wobble precariously
A car moves past, a bird swims through the clear blue
The world outside continues living
In here, the stench of death.

Next to the box of others’ lives, a pot of other colours
Terracotta orange so hard and cold. How can anything live?
My how pretty, long and thin! Like straw to snap but strong as a trunk
Up them, fuel and eyes travel, journeying to the head, the summit of worth
Divergence the key to life. Variability, the fun
For them difference is visual
For us similarity is a mutation.

The strength supports, bringing life to the beauty, to the variable
Green shoots off, more fuel for their fire
The colours vivid, each one pleasing, each one unique
Fragrant smell, fresh and sweet, fills the surroundings
Each stands tall, petals soft and hydrated
Signs of life start to fade
The ways of death so close.

Each head wilts, closing tight, each smell flies away
New fragiles form, struggling and fighting for a new life
New and old join together until the withering patterns the floor
Clean them away, vacuum it up. Leave it all as memory alone
As the blue fades to black, the lives fade to light
New lives begin as old ones end
The terracotta vase is empty.

© Persephone Muse 2007

This is an old poem, part of Timeless Tuesdays and because I’m so tired and nervous that I can’t figure out anything else to post!

~ PersephoneM x

Painting over the past

This weekend has possibly been the most tiring of my life. Saturday AM I got to the flat I usually rent out, painting and well, painting.

This morning (still there) I was on the phone standing in what used to be my bedroom and trying not to lean against the wet wall, when I noticed that there was a patch untouched by the magnolia paint. After the initial thought of ‘Better get that later’, I then started to think about all the memories that I had spent my weekend painting over.

That sounds really corny!

It wasn’t quite the cliche of as I put on the paint it was like painting over my memory, no, but it was odd standing there. There was just this moment after seeing the patch of unpainted plaster that then I glanced down at the carpet. It’s an awful thin purple which never matched the room and still doesn’t.

Suddenly I saw this photo of my friend that I took as she stood in the doorway ready for a night out. It seems like so long ago, but such a part of my life even though I only lived in the place for two years. Maybe it’s because every room was so filled with things that made the flat mine and my husband’s, the bedroom least of all actually. Now everytime I visit, it doesn’t seem like mine (maybe the kitchen and bathroom slightly) because a home isn’t just the walls and floor – it’s the furniture and trinkets, the photo frames and ornaments.

In that random moment as my the image of the photo of my friend popped into my mind, it kinda felt like mine again.

I haven’t lived there for two and a half years, yet everything there seemed so familiar. I guess the area always will, but maybe next time the flat won’t. It’s all just a blank canvas now for someone else and their life. For however long their tenancy is!

~ Persephone M

The Seven Year Itch

I don’t know what’s been up with me for the past week or so; I just haven’t really done much in the evenings whatsoever and this blog has suffered. My apologies!

Hopefully, that little blip of an odd mood is over and I’m focused again here. To celebrate me resuming normal service, today’s blog is kinda about love. You might think it’s just because tomorrow is Valentine’s day, but it kind of isn’t. Although it kind of is.

I haven’t called today’s entry The Seven Year Itch because my husband is on the verge of having an affair (realistically, how would I know what’s going on in his head/heart?) or because I’m suffering the urge to move on from the situation. Seven years ago on the second Monday in February (it was the 14th and, therefore, Valentine’s day), I followed my usual evening routine as if it were simply any other work day.

This included heading to my friend’s home for them to get changed before watching a bit of TV and then safely escorting me home. Except on that Monday evening, completely ignorant of the Saint, we settled down to watch a DVD and then I didn’t go home.

I won’t give it all away, much like seven years ago when I didn’t give it all away that night, but needless to say that was the beginning of a new relationship for me. One that was completely different to the ones before.

Boyfriend number one was older than me, and I was far more naive than my age should have allowed me. During and after all the years with him, he managed to convince me that I could do no better than him. We argued and fought. A lot. And it wasn’t the nice kind of bickering that’s still present with my husband now.

Boyfriend number two was a rich, attractive, drunk who turned out to have serious issues and could not let go. He was the only person I ever dumped. He was determined that I would start wearing heels, skirts and make up, that I would act how he wanted, move where he wanted us to live, live in his life. Perhaps if I’d have been stronger, the relationship could have worked and I could have fought my corner. But Number One had made me eager to find someone, anyone to love the unloveable me.

Boyfriend number three was less a boyfriend and more an older man with whom there could never be any future. He was the object of my crush and, for someone who had been convinced they could not be loved, who had been told their future was mapped out, someone with no future, no love, simply desire, it was what I needed then.

Boyfriend number four was the guy from work who incredibly kindly walked me home every night. I saw him as a friend, assumed he saw me as simply a friend. He may or may not have been lying, but after that DVD on Valentine’s night, we were not just friends. He understood Number One who had dragged down my self esteem. He understood Number Two who had wanted to mould me into the perfect little wife. He understood Number Three that had boosted my confidence. And he understood that I needed time.

It may not have started in any sort of normal way for a relationship, but, as I sit here, seven years later on the eve of Valentine’s with a husband playing some silly game like Angry Birds, it was the perfect conclusion to the first three. I have no desire or urge to change the situation. And he’d be too scared to have an affair!

~ Persephone M

Merry Christmas!

I’m trying to force myself into a festive mood by posting a small collection of random Christmassy images.

The decorations from a meal out last year.
First christmas with my now husband and a trip to Paris a few weeks before.
A local house and all of it’s lights which is identical every year. Although a lot more local houses now light themselves up.
2011’s Christmas Eve and the sun setting earlier.
A giant cracker from a previous Christmas Dinner and the very “busy” table that in itself is filled with 101 happy thoughts, but are just a memory now.
More Tree Decorations to try and inject some fun into things.
From my tree this year.
Santas on display in Macy’s, New York, November 2009.
Another display Santa from Macy’s, New York November 2009.
“Traditional” Red Santa in Macy’s, New York, November 2009.
Huge angels in Macy’s NY, far too big for the top of a Christmas tree!
One of the tens upon tens of fully decorated trees in Macy’s, NY. I have never seen as many trees or differently themed Christmas trees, or baubles in any one shop, or at any one Christmas.
Pink and purple tree in Macy’s. Despite it being November, Macy’s Christmas Spirit was certainly already out. It was truly an out of the world experience. Perhaps if I were there I would have my Christmas festive mood!
And to end, an Elvis themed tree. Only in America…

So there are my pick of the best images I have found after trawling through all of my photo folders. There are so many memories of good Christmases, fingers crossed that I get over this current funk and wake up tomorrow, ready to make more happy Christmas Day memories.

Merry Christmas everyone!

~ Persephone M

Six Years Past

I realised the other day, when thinking about the date and the day, that I can remember the last time December the 10th was a Saturday, the 12th a Monday and the 14th a Wednesday, etc, etc.

The days of a month should repeat every 6 years, possibly fewer if two leap years fall into the period. 2011 has followed the same days as 2005 did. How do I know this? Simply because it was six years ago that my then-boyfriend had a birthday on a Friday, my last day in a job that had driven me insane but I do now miss, that I started a new job on the following Tuesday, the day after one of my friend’s father’s died. I honestly can’t believe it was 6 whole years ago.

I’m not sure why the memories are so much stronger this year when most people remember dates and therefore remember them every year, but I don’t usually remember that my friend’s father died a few days after my now-husband’s birthday. Perhaps it is because I was walking to work thinking about his birthday this year and wondering when it last happened on a Friday. It was also possibly triggered by a random sailor who cycled past me in his little hat and pristine uniform, reminding me of how I used to love seeing the then-boyfriend in his uniform. Okay, seeing anyone in military uniform.

A flood of memories came back to me: Trying to do a day’s worth of work when my boss had no intention of letting me stay past 10, having the commanding officer talk a Marine Colonel into carrying me from my office in some grand “Officer and a Gentleman” routine with me mortified that everyone was watching, including my then-boyfriend. Oh, and then I had to walk back into the room, red as a tomatoe. For some reason, despite the number of times I saw my now-husband in his uniform (we worked together for a year so I saw him every freaking working day), that day sticks in my mind and I can see him clearly in his uniform more so than any other point. Perhaps because it was his birthday. Perhaps because he was on leave, but to enter the office building he had to be in uniform and he did so just for me.

I remember leaving work and then spending the rest of the day with him, unsure of how long I could keep my work-pass which my boss should have taken, but then I would have had to be signed in to visit the boyfriend. It wouldn’t have been a problem, it just would have meant more walking!

I can remember cancelling a call late at night a few days later as my new job started the next day. Little did I know until I read the text the next morning that a friend’s father had died moments before her call to me. I spent a large portion of the next day feeling awful and having no one to talk to as I was on day one. Does my friend realise that this year, the anniversary will be on the same day as the original? Whether normal or not, I barely remember the date my dad died, but I do know it was a Sunday.

Then I remember attempting to learn how to perform a pH test on soil (the simplest of tests we used to run) on my first day of work, and worrying about getting around to see my friend. There are no memories of seeing her, or getting to her house, but I can remember walking home from seeing her on… a day.

Looking back on those few days, I was starting a whole new chapter in my life — finally working in “science” and analytical science, too. I loved the two years I spent there and it gave me the skills to (so far) not have to go back to office work. I had to give up working closely with my then-boyfriend, I had to move away from home, I had to stop swooning at men in uniform and I could leave behind people that had made my working day horrible.

At pretty much the exact same time, my friend was starting a whole new chapter in her life — one without her father in it and one where, an increased closeness with her male friend led to a new relationship and and second son for my friend.

That week was the first time I’d celebrated the then-boyfriend’s birthday and it was when my friend’s Merry Christmases died.

How things change in just 6 years and how we can get to the brink of about to forget something and then it snaps back in.

~ Persephone M

Annie – A Christmas Memory!

Annie by PersephoneM
Annie, a photo by PersephoneM on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Similar to a previous post of “Olivia“, not only did I name all of my ornamental hedgehogs when growing up, but also my family’s Christmas Tree decorations. This is the only one I can remember the name of – Annie – and it is today’s Monday Memories! Isn’t it amazing how something as small as a few wooden tree decorations can evoke such wondrous memories of your youth? Every year I used to open the box and “play” with the family of ornaments: The two soldier boys would march on up to the tree, there was another girl who ice skated there. And of course, Santa was everyone’s father.

We no longer have the same tree, and some of the ornaments have been lost along the way, but there’s still enough memories there. Including from the ornaments held together with sellotape and blu-tac! I even went and bought my own for my own tree, but they’re nowhere near as good as the originals. Which Christmas ornament holds the greatest meaning to you?

~Persephone M.