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Array ( [sid] => 67961 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Distant Memory [time] => 2004-10-18 18:31:16 [hometext] => ...a time when all was not what it seemed... [bodytext] => Born in July of 22,
she tells me tales of woe,
"You should be greatful to be born in this era,
not in the depression you know"

Her withered old hands, they lie in her lap,
her hair is grey, soft and long,
her mind is ticking as she remembers back,
to the war, where the whole world went wrong.

Her face tells a story, a story of love,
a story of forgotton years,
when men were conscripted to fight for the land,
when they were still wet 'hind the ears.

She remembers the fighting, the death that was done,
she remembers the hot summer heat,
she remembers the jubilation, at the end of the war,
where the happy ones danced in the street.

she remembers the singind, her father did do,
she remembers the time when the penny,
would buy pound of sugar or loaf of bread,
which would help when you didn't have any.

She talks of stews, made of fresh rabbit,
of sitting by the light of the fire,
she remembers the wireless, or radio now,
she recalls all the good, and the dire.

Her memories, which are kept to herself,
are now passed on to me,
and I listen to her stories,
as she smiles down at me.

"You should count yourself lucky,
for the things you didn't see"
and with that she rises to her feet,
and shuffles off silently. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 55 [informant] => teagy03 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )

Distant Memory

Contributed by teagy03 on Monday, 18th October 2004 @ 06:31:16 PM in AEST
Topic: dedicatedpoems

Born in July of 22,
she tells me tales of woe,
"You should be greatful to be born in this era,
not in the depression you know"

Her withered old hands, they lie in her lap,
her hair is grey, soft and long,
her mind is ticking as she remembers back,
to the war, where the whole world went wrong.

Her face tells a story, a story of love,
a story of forgotton years,
when men were conscripted to fight for the land,
when they were still wet 'hind the ears.

She remembers the fighting, the death that was done,
she remembers the hot summer heat,
she remembers the jubilation, at the end of the war,
where the happy ones danced in the street.

she remembers the singind, her father did do,
she remembers the time when the penny,
would buy pound of sugar or loaf of bread,
which would help when you didn't have any.

She talks of stews, made of fresh rabbit,
of sitting by the light of the fire,
she remembers the wireless, or radio now,
she recalls all the good, and the dire.

Her memories, which are kept to herself,
are now passed on to me,
and I listen to her stories,
as she smiles down at me.

"You should count yourself lucky,
for the things you didn't see"
and with that she rises to her feet,
and shuffles off silently.

Copyright © teagy03 ... [ 2004-10-18 18:31:16]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Distant Memory (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Friday, 16th September 2005 @ 06:58:48 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

full of feeling

great write....your portray her perfectly
it sets that mental picture that is sometimes very difficult to do

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