jimbob
The Celt
I knew you once,
But a memory fails me again
It isn’t expected to remember all, but this once
It would be nice
All I know about you is your reputation
Gleaming and shining in the words of others
A shining hero, brave, courageous, a universal boy scout
But who are you?
My mother says you were the greatest
Not old but young always
Young always like April and May
Ever blossoming and flowering in your spring
But still I lack the knowledge of you,
Gone before I could form your picture in my head
Like the grayed photo in the hall
An ever dimming image
A good man, strong and loving
Renaissance man as you were
Jack of all trades and all virtues
But I don’t know you
They talk about you
But like a broken key on the piano
I have no part to play
In the orchestra of your memory.
Some photos, some words
All that I know of you
They are foreign to recollection
They don’t form remembrance
Even though:
I still have a feeling,
The one you get when you feel someone’s watching you
That someone, is it you?
Not with words, nor images,
But with a backwards recollection of ideas
I form a memory, not of you
But a memory of a memory, in all attempts to know the man you were.
it's meant to be read SLAM style, if you know what that is. anyway, please critique, i can always use help on forming my stuff.
But a memory fails me again
It isn’t expected to remember all, but this once
It would be nice
All I know about you is your reputation
Gleaming and shining in the words of others
A shining hero, brave, courageous, a universal boy scout
But who are you?
My mother says you were the greatest
Not old but young always
Young always like April and May
Ever blossoming and flowering in your spring
But still I lack the knowledge of you,
Gone before I could form your picture in my head
Like the grayed photo in the hall
An ever dimming image
A good man, strong and loving
Renaissance man as you were
Jack of all trades and all virtues
But I don’t know you
They talk about you
But like a broken key on the piano
I have no part to play
In the orchestra of your memory.
Some photos, some words
All that I know of you
They are foreign to recollection
They don’t form remembrance
Even though:
I still have a feeling,
The one you get when you feel someone’s watching you
That someone, is it you?
Not with words, nor images,
But with a backwards recollection of ideas
I form a memory, not of you
But a memory of a memory, in all attempts to know the man you were.
it's meant to be read SLAM style, if you know what that is. anyway, please critique, i can always use help on forming my stuff.
