For today’s prompt, write a poem in which something is lost and then regained. Maybe a relationship is lost and then regained, or a special keepsake. Maybe it was stolen and won back. Or maybe it was in your possession the whole time, but you just didn’t know it.
Robert Lee Brewer's Original Post
She got lost in the years as time took it's toll
ReplyDeletethe childish laughter and playful spirit drowned
as she disappeared into life's black hole.
she searched for herself but she could not be found
swirled up in the confusion of her confused mind
was she lost in the sky or deep underground.
perhaps she was still here but only gone blind
or her eyes glued shut to the world and life
no matter which way she turned she felt too confined.
she forced her eyes open despite the strife
found herself in a different life's roll
cut too deep as she removed the knife
as she disappeared into life's black hole
She got lost in the years as time took it's toll
Awesome sonnet. And yeah, I thnk we all get lost in the years. And, I know we said no critique but it's "its toll". LOL
Deletewhoops! how did that sneak in there?
DeleteI loved your sonnet! it was very visual and thought provoking. Enjoyed!!
DeleteLOST AND FOUND BOX INVENTORY
ReplyDelete42 sweat shirts.
24 hats.
Two hoodies.
18 jackets
Two dozen mateless gloves
plus two pairs
Third-grader Joe Rivas
took a blue knit
Power Rangers glove.
It's mine, he said.
I have one just like it,
but for the other hand.
21 lunch boxes.
One water bottle.
One Star Wars back pack
Three baseballs,
one football,
One pink and white umbrella
To avoid losing items,
parents should clearly label
all personal belongings
with your child’s name
so that lost items
may be returned.
Two pairs of shoes,
one pair of boots,
three unmated socks
plus one pair of Spiderman socks.
One pair of red tights.
One flip flop.
lmbo! yep the good old lost and found box... love it!
DeleteThat is quite a lost and found box!!! Very unique poem, I enjoyed it very much. I laughed myself into tears!!
DeleteCute! fun poem.
Deleteonce I thought I lost my mind
ReplyDeleteI was thinking very strangely
I thought that I was a big, bad wolf
with gangs to tear off flesh
and I could run a mile a minute
I was sinewy and muscular
and had my pack around me
but the doctor didn't like my thoughts
and put me in the ward
for awhile
till I found my mind again
I guess it wasn't really lost
it was just dysfunctional...
I like to think that too... we haven't really lost our sanity but just misplaced it... like when we put our glasses on top of our heads and then go into a panic trying to find them later :-)
DeleteGiggles of enjoyment,
ReplyDeleteThe words on a page,
Song, simplicity,
Peace, belief, God,
Yet I lost me.
Slowly regaining,
Meeting myself again
welcome back :-) you who once were lost but now am found. well done!
DeleteYes, glad to have you back!! And that you found your poetry voice again! LOL
DeleteShort and sweet!
ReplyDeleteLost and Found
Was I lost? Or did I lose myself?
Not sure, but somehow when I
looked in the mirror I discovered
that I was there all the time!
Tasha Haleprt
The Wooden Doll
ReplyDeleteShe was carved by my great-great-great-grandfather Snow
for his daughter around 1835..
My grandmother saw her once, when she was five.
The doll was over fifty then, a cherished heirloom.
It was love at first sight. When little Sally touched
the doll, she touched her great-grandfather’s hand.
She never saw the wooden doll again
but she never forgot that tiny creature.
I grew up on stories my grandmother told me.
It was that doll who fascinated me most. When I
learned of her existence, she would have been
more than 100 – an impossibly old age to a child.
Though she searched over the years, my grandmother
believed it was lost forever. The little wooden doll
would live on as the memory of a five-year-old girl,
passed to another little girl. Was it even real?
It was an accident – or a miracle – that placed the doll
in my grandmother’s hands, three months before
her own death at 75. Clearing out an elderly cousin’s
house, my grandmother and her sister – two elderly
ladies – were tired, working fast, throwing whole boxes
on the discard pile. A hat box fell, opened –
and there she was, still dressed in the faded gown
my grandmother remembered.
Today she lies, wrapped in tissue, in a box in a drawer
in my house. I do not introduce her to many people.
She needs to rest out of the bright light. After all,
she’ll be 200 soon. And I realize I’ve never known her name.
©Priscilla Anne Tennant Herrington
Lost // Not Lost
ReplyDeleteThe scale
like history
repeats itself
damn it.