This time last year IV

This time last year
the weather was mellow
and in spite of restrictions
a fortunate fellow
was able to cycle
out on the trail
as sunsets of gold
were made to regale

And in light quickly fading
a poem was written
to capture the moment
with which he was smitten
Words duly published
on Jemverse that year
which now I can read
to rekindle that cheer

But don't get me wrong
no lacklustre faced
optimistic as always
that time is released
by new wonders daily
for joy and for pleasure
which with recollection
I have for treasure

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

 

For Pops

Look at me now Pops, I’m an older man now
I’m past sixty, the years have flown by
That slap in the face
has long turned to grace
yet still on this day I will cry

Nineteenth of February nineteen seventy-four
etched in my mind for all time
The day that you left
leaving family bereft
although all these years later we’re fine

Just four of us left now, Mum with you now
We are older and wiser and free
Yet still we recall
as the years pass and fall
with that promise that one day we’ll see

So this one’s for you Pops, this day I remember
once a year with a glass in the air
As with happiness here
with you share a beer
and the memories happily share

©Jemverse

In loving memory of my father – John Alan Croucher (10/5/34 to 19/2/74)

This time last year II

This time last year
our bags were packed
and excitement it was growing
as we both knew
what we would do
and where we both were going

To somewhere hot
across the sea
four hours or so by plane
with nought to lose
to join a cruise
Croatia again

This time last year
the sunshine found
when autumn chill was here
First thing we did
with nothing hid
was drinking ice-cold beer

In somewhere hot
across the sea
escaping for a week
remembering
as our hearts sing
these memories to keep

©Jemverse

Photo – Dubrovnik old town, Croatia – Jempics

Yesterdays

I gathered all my memories
lest they faded to the past
No melancholy there
but I wanted them to last
For collectively they’ve shaped me
into what I am today
Precious to hold onto
as my tomorrow’s seize the day

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

This town of mine

Someone sent a photograph
of how it used to be
Shoreham when I was a lad
Evoked a memory

Walking home from school each day
climbing up the wall
Jumping on the old bomb there
never once to fall

The den up in the manor
on the edge of Buckingham Park
where we’d hide and read our comics
and stay ’til it got dark

The sea defences on the beach
near to the harbour’s arm
Ignored our parents’ warning
though we never came to harm

The ruined house in Kingston Lane
its air-raid shelters gave
us reason for adventures
in the dark just like a cave

So many memories I have
of times now gone before
when Shoreham was a different place
this town on Sussex shore

But something nurtured way back then
has stood the test of time
As I’m still here and call this home
This lovely town of mine

©Jemverse

 

Moments of sublime

I went walking on a hilltop
though I wasn’t really there
And then I was beside the sea
with toes in water bare

I went climbing on a mountain
though it was I think a dream
As really I was looking back
at places I had been

Photos captured on my Mac
of memories in time
Providing for nostalgia
for moments of sublime

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Hidden Truth

Fragrance of the harbour
Familiar to me
with salt and oil and pitch and tar
and yes, of course, the sea

Memories of the harbour
treasures from my youth
Those halcyon days that carry
so much hidden truth

©Jemverse

Photo – Shoreham Harbour, Sussex – Jempics

Old blue bird table

We have an old blue bird table
some years beyond its prime
But we’ve had it now for ages
and once it looked just fine

Perhaps it should have found its way
to firewood long ago
But we like it in our garden
and are loathe for that, you know

It’s got a certain presence
‘Je ne sais quoi’, we’d say
So until it actually falls apart
it has a place to stay

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Precious

Not for me a diamond
or something made of gold
For I can find my treasure
in memories of old
Just walking through the harbour
where I wandered as a boy
has value beyond measure
and instils in me a joy

That history has substance
intangible maybe
But one which stores a value
which is firmly part of me
The pleasure of a memory
a recollection there
is as precious as a pot of gold
and one I’ll always share

Nostalgia is a precious thing
no one can take away
It can never be devalued
and will be there, come what may
But treasured though the past may be
it always takes a bow
to the forming of new memories
from the present, here and now

©Jemverse

Photo – the old fisherman’s beach, Albion Street, Southwick (West Sussex, UK). Now filled in with rubble and concrete to form a car park for the harbour master’s office.

Day 16 in the ‘Blogging from A-Z challenge‘

The whimsy of treasured memories

Closeted in the cupboards of minds
and kept for a rainy day
memories of the halcyon times
Dreams are filed away

Days from childhood, days from youth
retained to often share
many things taken save for these
All kept and treasured there

A sacrosanct trove of happiness
as the years pass swiftly by
brought out and dusted down when we
with whimsy breathe a sigh

©Jemverse