-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month
Leave a Message at the Tone…
I can hear my phone buzzing
on the dresser across the room
like a fly…dogging my face
it’s distractingas I give myself over
…in every possible sense…
to his ferocious ministrationshis smoky eyes burning holes in my soul
setting my nerve endings ablaze
flickers spreading quickly
a…Read More![Profile Photo]()
![Profile Photo]()
![Profile Photo]()
liked this
-
![Profile picture of Visions_of_Insanity]()
Visions_of_Insanity changed their profile picture
![]()
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month
Sensory Memories
“why are you so addicted to popcorn?”
because on Saturday evenings…
when I was small…
(too young to know of more exciting things…
like theaters and urban adventures)
there was a table that became an arenawhere board games and Uno took over
and we gathered as a family…
no chores…
otherwise idle…Read More4 Comments-
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
Thank you 😊 I make popcorn every week, never recapture those moments but it brings back the memories
-
-
![Profile picture of redzone]()
Willow, I make the popcorn the same way your grandmother did, 3 quart pot, melt the butter and mix. But I must confess, the popcorn goes in a big bowl and I eat it all from there. Thanks for sharing the popcorn….er… I mean the poem. ;0) -Curt
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
There were a minimum of a dozen of us at that table. There would have been no room for a big bowl. I’ve never seen a bowl the size she used for the popcorn since then. I use an air popper but yes, it goes in a bowl and it’s all mine too. 😊
-
-
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
Willow wrote a new post
![]()
Read More"why are you so addicted to popcorn?" because on Saturday evenings... when I was small... (too young to know of more exciting things... like theaters and urban adventures) there was a table that became an arena where board games and Uno took over and we gathered...
7 Comments-
![Profile picture of Tim]()
It’s good to have memories like that. Sometimes – when memories are triggered – you can’t help but be reminded of those carefree times when life was a little more magical and joyous.
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
On the farm it was always busy busy busy. These nights were like time capsules when everyone came together in love and joy…not for work. Thank you 😊
-
-
![Profile picture of I_IS_ ME]()
We can relate to this piece. There was a poetess on dup that was super at these type pieces also. We don’t remember her name only that she reminisce often on earlier happier times, kinda like Styxian. We like his pieces also.
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
I used to write this kind of memory-based poems all the time on DU. Styxian does a fantastic job at memory journeys. Thank you 😊
-
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
They were beautifully chaotic moments filled with love and the smell of fresh popcorn…on really special occasions we made banana splits too! Farm folk…these were cherished times. Thank you 😊
-
![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Beautifully penned, Willow. Another excellent write filled with ripe nostalgia my friend. I definitely remember board games and cards and to the point that there were always amazing snacks. My dad used to make fresh Carmel Corn when we’d have a movie night. It’s the little things in those sweet memories we hold on to most. Amazing read as always. Thanks for sharing. Appreciate you.
Damian
-
![Profile picture of Willow]()
I sometimes think farm folk and country folk have the most rich lives in terms of special moments. When everything stops so we can have these evenings, it makes them all the more precious. And my dad was a master at cheating playing Connect Four and loved Uno like nobody I know. We knew when he was about to lay some ornery on us because he’d grin like crazy and giggle. He never could have played poker. 😂 Thank you, my friend
-
-
-
![Profile picture of Visions_of_Insanity]()
Visions_of_Insanity changed their profile picture
![]()
- Load More Posts
Aw, I can smell the corn popping from here – a really atmospheric poem.