MEMORIES (THE INTANGIBLE PICTURES OF TIME)

The three hands in this bowl,

That has tasted not ever a ladle of soup,

Is still a mystery to many.

Especially that small lanky one,

Which is as slippery as an eel.

Moving so fast, yet without a heel.

And influencing the movement of many like peer pressure,

Forcing them to move with silent pressure.

Orchestrating events to come and go

When they are no longer needed to stay

And leaving behind intangible images,

Images as frail as the petals of a flower.

Yes, beautiful pictures that haunt you

With flashes of the old as if to taunt you

And form wrinkles around the mouth and eyes,

For a sec.

And leave them desolate with tears in the eyes.

Oh, then wishful thoughts barge in rudely

When you’ve not even invited them, you know?

And they hurt… so?

Well, they are here already.

And as much as you don’t like them,

You would have to entertain them.

Cos they really don’t mind whether or not you’re ready.

They can really bug, alas, that’s their expertise.

Seeming so unreal, but hey, they really are.

Actually they did happen.

And inasmuch as you would want to revisit or forget them,

You just can’t get rid of them.

Haha…, you know what, they are practically part of you,

You see them in that shoe

And that white dress.

You remember the day you wore that?

What you did, you’ll remember that

And whether it brings a smile or a tear,

They utterly don’t care.

They will serve them to you

Even when you are full

And have had enough,

That’s when they will hit you quite tough

They are ruthlessly compassionate and ruefully inconsiderate.

They can get you really pensive,

Cause you to look over your shoulders,

You know?

To see if a third party is peeping at the video they are displaying to you.

But hey, don’t fret, the show is only for you.

Yeah, that’s one admirable thing about them;

They care less enough to show it solely to you

Cos that’s what they do,

That’s what they’re made to be.

Even if the displayed video is one that you’d like to revisit,

They will heartily show them to you, yet will deny you a trip to those moments.

Alas, that’s the limit of their kindness and generosity.

For they love to haunt, taunt and suck your peace

Then mock you when you’re in pieces.

Constantly intruding your moments

Makes you sometimes, want to habeas corpus them, you know,

To get a restraining order so they will stay out if your life for good.

Yet, you can’t shout at them.

Wait, well you can.

But you can’t sack them

For it’s like a drink and it can;

No matter how you try to pour them out

Small droplets will always cling to you.

Like an image and it shadow – very inseparable

Silent stalkers who know the in-and-out of your life.

They are bad entertainers,

Beautiful peace destroyers

Thus I call them “Beautiful Gideon”.

And when they realize you’re smiling at the video they’re showing,

They burst your moment and make their murkiest move:

Revealing who they truly are.

Yeah, they are just memories, the intangible pictures of time.

Poetry by Stephen Abeiku Johnson

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