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EMPTY SHELLS

This is the shed that holds the shelves

that hold the dreams that hold the man

here is the house that holds the garden

that holds the shed that holds the shelves

that hold the dreams that hold the man

to all the things he dreamed about when

things were what he dreamed about. 

 

But when he has to leave the house behind

that holds the garden that holds the shed

that holds the shelves that held

the dreams that held the man 

that now have let him go

now just an empty shell remains -

when there's no purpose nor reason it seems

there's no need of places for empty dreams. 

◄ THERE'S A TRAIN COMING

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND ►

Comments

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raypool

Sat 27th Jul 2024 13:10

Thank you for all the likes to Hugh, Aisha Lorisa Holden K.Lynn Helene and Endigo.

I'm having problems still with parting with stuff, and deciding what I can do without and how to profit from some of it if sold Graham. Zen itself brings back a period once treasured !

Nicely put Stephen, and shows an understanding of what I was getting at!

An astute observation Martin - I was aiming at a sort of decreasing cyclical idea of re examination I suppose. I'm afraid a lot of my work is fatalistic. You touched on an aspect I was hoping to come over which is dementia, but I couldn't shape it in directly without breaking the pattern (?) I think it still works with that in mind!

Hi David,
I feel there's a theme developing in your comment of the vulnerability of private dreams and how they can become destroyed by actual experience. Certainly that is a real aspect of life and the curtain separating us from the "invasions" of reality can become threadbare and no longer quite serve. It seems to me that you have a very real grip on the important things now. How we grow can be so painful. We are all teetering on the edge of isolation in various forms!

Thanks too for the compliment.

Ray

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David RL Moore

Thu 25th Jul 2024 09:13

Hi Ray,

an absolutely wonderful poem.

Having seen your shed and its ordered beauty and come to know the man who created that space your poem left me with a tinge of saddness. I brushed it off after a couple more reading, it is an honest realisation on your behalf. It is also an unbinding from the prison of dreams that we judge our lives by. In striving for our dreams we reveal others, they may become reality. Some do realise their actual dream...I wonder how many are then disappointed.

Personally, I cut loose of many of my dreams when I witnessed the nightmare lives of others...that impact woke me up and probably jaded me somewhat. It also made me realise the relative futility of material possesions at an early age. That said I do not deny the comfort and security material possesions can bring, having just enough, security and of course companionship and love are what is important.

Great poem Ray.

David

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Martin Peacock

Tue 23rd Jul 2024 08:50

I really like this, Ray. Your use of repetition (it reminds me of something i can't put a name to) works well as a kind of 'unspooling' device, unravelling those aspects of our lives - our personality traits - to reveal the raw reality of who we are, what we become when we leave our past behind. Or does it leave us behind? What i found so appealing about this was the way it touched on that sense of melancholic defeat we may feel as we grow old(er), when our youthful optimism fades. Who are we once we let all that go? What's left of us?

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 23rd Jul 2024 07:42

A poignant poem, Ray. In the end, we are just an episode in the lives of many things which endure far beyond our time here.

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Graham Sherwood

Mon 22nd Jul 2024 22:47

The older I get Ray I seem to be able to let go of STUFF! I was at one time a little materialistic, striving to get stuff for the family etc. Now I seem to need or want very little.

A bit of Zen helps and decent health of course.

Once again great subject matter!

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