the first piece I held was small
a mnemonic device of sorts
it reminded us of ourselves
as small as an acorn
as powerful as a poem
I tied it to a leather thong
we were like a secret society
those of us who wore it
a mnemonic device of sorts
it reminded us of ourselves
as small as an acorn
as powerful as a poem
I tied it to a leather thong
we were like a secret society
those of us who wore it
ReplyDeleteThat was then. Now it's
social media and device.
No longer to stay in touch
but to hang on every word
lest anyone forget me. This
is now and I wish it wasn't.
But in a dozen years or more
where time and space are one
and the gods thank me in person
there will be no more Likes from you
and no more Likes from me.
haha.
ReplyDeleteSorry. Yours is a fine poem, a memory of a different time. A faint chuckle, sure, Sue, but I'm fed up with where this hand-held culture is leading them and us. But I'm just showing my age...and my resistance to everything that is suddenly NEW!
ReplyDeleteMine is actually about a small ceramic scupture. Like you wanting to make a point about nothing new about hand held items. Maybe I need to make that clearer in the poem.
ReplyDeleteDear Sue, Your small ceramic piece was precious to you. My apologies for misreading it - the bees are out of my bonnet now! :O
DeleteLiked the poem as it a lot is but loved it more with tactileness of the ceramic piece brought into it - thanks for sharing that.
ReplyDeletethis is fascinating - the idea of the secret society takes the poem into the realm of identity politics in an intensely personal way. Simply and eloquently put.
ReplyDelete