Reminiscing, a poem for today, Dad and me
I went with my dad
I went with my dad, I was very young
Only Dad and me, just the two of us
We sat at a booth there by the window
Patched sidewalk outside, thought nothing of it
Now I'd like to peek, in from that sidewalk
Seeing what went on back then in that place
Ladies serving drinks, think root beer for us
Men and boys no girls that I remember
Were we joined by some or sit there alone
Who else was in that room, smoky front room
Did we eat as well, a sandwich would do
Baloney and cheese, could be liverwurst
Wonder what was said, to us and we to them
Not one word do I remember hearing
Surely I didn't talk, a boy of six
I suppose that was my age or lower
Whatever happened there in that old house
Does it happen still, some new endeavor
We will never know answers to these thoughts
Walk down the sidewalk, peek, it's dark inside _ _ _ _
Photo and Poem Copyright, © Jimmiehov 2017, All Rights Reserved
Notes and photos:
- I'm linked with Isadora Gruye at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads;
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/writing-unseen.html
- Izzy wants us for this Out of Standard Challenge to write a poem about something (we) can’t see fully.
- I found this old house while in Washington, D.C, walking from the downtown area over to George Washington University. It is older than the Civil War but I'm not sure now how old it is.
- For sure we did stop for a drink in an old Main Street Café in Herman, Nebraska. I didn't remember much and not even as much as I've told here. The building has burned.
This is what is left of the building. For a non-poetic real truth version of my visit with Dad please see this previous post: http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2007/03/another-first-my-first-drink-in-public.html
Labels: Jim's Life, Personal-Challenge-2017, Real Toads, Syllabic Form, Walk Pictures
posted by Jim @ 8/10/2017 11:49:00 PM
12 comments
12 Comments:
I loved the way the reader craves for answers but gets none...or none that would satisfy him. Growing up a pre teen (just after the war there were so many deserted buildings with stories desparate tro get out. I may have to follow suit and provide some answers...or questions perhaps?
It's hard to go back to a place that still exists in your memory but is no longer what you thought it was.
Ah, I love where this prompt took you. How the poet in you has filled in the unseen with rootbeer and liverwurst, smoky rooms and buckled sidewalks. Well done, Jim and viva la!!!!
The difference between what we see as children and what we see as adults. I think I like the child's view best.
A lovely remembrance Jim! It does make one think about there own memories and the places they went and what it is like now.
A strong memory, well told. This reminded me of hotel lounges back in my parents' day, which were separated, one for men and one for ladies. Wow, that means I am very old. LOL.
Such a strong remembrance. How different things looked as a child than as an adult. I always thought the town library was so huge. I saw it a few years ago - a rather shabby two story Greek Revival building, smaller than the department stores around it. I like the sitting with your dad and drinking root beer.
Memory can be an elusive mistress, can't she? Especially when remembered with the lived eye of a young boy all grown up.
A nice look back Jim and to us this serving, a tease.
much love...
Your poem reminds me of why I so love 'going back home.' We need that 'remembering.'
Oh to peek into those dark corners and remember. This is so beautiful and wistful, Jim.
A child's innocence, an adults questions and looking back. Nice.
Post a Comment
<< Home