Old Memories

I'm back in St. Louis,
With my friends from the Wobot Team,
It is funny to think that
More than 141 days ago,
I was here with my Church,
And my youth group, as well.

You have probably read my journal,
The stuff I wrote when I was here,
You probably read my personal thoughts
That I recorded on a near-hourly basis.

My name is writer,
As you already may know;
That's why I kept the journals I kept
When I travelled throughout the day.

I had been writing
Since I was the age of six,
And I had kept journals
Since the age of twelve.

I kept my journals,
The sheets that were a part of the normal,
But there were the special ones,
Like the trips that I went on.

I kept a journal for occasions
Of all different sorts,
You can just ask me,
If you want to read my writing.

I kept a journal for Biloxi,
For Work Camp and Isle Royale,
For Costa Rica (my second) ,
For the Keys and the Jambo,
And for those on a daily basis.

But I came here for Work Camp,
When I went to St. Louis,
I stayed at a Church,
And I got closer to God.

When I had come down here,
My heart was still mending,
I was recovering from Shay,
And I had a crush on Enjolie.

Enjolie was a friend of mine,
And she had gone through
Something similar to me,
I thought we could heal together,
And become more than we were.

I remember the daemon
That possessed my very heart;
I remember the pain and guilt
I carried with me.

The daemon had torn me apart;
He was eating my insides,
Tearing at my organs,
And ripping my heart apart.

I was guilty for what I had done,
What I had done to a poor innocent girl;
I felt like I was falling apart,
Especially after my attempted suicide
Only a few months before.

However, I was on a spiritual journey,
One that would get me closer to God;
Little did I know, He would lead me
On an extraordinary path to
Where I am today.

I remember seeing the Arch,
With my friends Enjolie and Molly,
And my dear brother Sean.
I remember going up there
And having a good time,
And having fun jumping
And falling and sliding
Like no other time before.

I remember Enjolie's smiling face,
And Molly's god old grin,
And Enjolie's involuntary laugh,
And Sean's smirk upon his face.

I remember Sean joking with Enjolie
As we went to the museum,
I remember Molly shrugging
Her shoulders at me,
And giving an uneasy grin.

I remember Forrest Park,
Such a beautiful place,
It was great fun,
Being there, as well.

But there was the spiritual journey,
The one you have read,
It turned me into who I am,
With God right on my side.

I had played with little kids at the Tandy Centre,
From all over the neighbourhood,
They really loved to play,
And they had a lot of fun.

I remember Bouvais Manour,
The place for the old,
I had taken care of them,
And I helped them everywhere.

I also remember Lily's Place,
The place for Women in Transition,
They had sought shelter,
From their abusive husbands.

We had sorted clothes there,
Making sure it was okay,
And we helped everyone
When everything went right.

The spiritual journey was complete,
Especially the night I cried,
My youth group was like family,
Crying and holding each other tight.

Everyone said they loved my laugh,
Trying to cheer me up,
And Roger, the biker, held me tight,
As I was going through my time
Of the horrendous Time of Torment.

It was the conclusion
Of the Depression Decade,
When my friends held me tight,
They were crying with me,
And they embraced me like Christ Himself.

That year had been a bad year,
One of the very worst,
That's why I had let it all out,
When the healing process took place.

It had been a ton of pain
From the last ten years,
As I told Lyn,
I had worn a mask,
To hide my falling apart.

But now I am here,
And back again,
And we are ready
To go.

I hope that i relive the joy
I had when I had come 230 days ago.
I hope I can get close to Lyn,
And see the smile she has on her face.

I want all my friends
To enjoy what I did,
Even with the daemon inside me,
I want them to have
The time of their lives,
When they come to see the beauty.

As Mark Twain said,
It's as great as the
Mighty Mississippi,
And Samuel Clemens
Was quite right,
For the Mississippi
Is a beauty.

I can't wait to relive
What I did,
Last summer when I went
With my friends,
I want them to have
The time of their lives
When we go up into the arch.

I cannot wait
To see the joy on Lyn's face,
Just like what I saw at prom,
I cannot wait
To see the Dream Team happy,
Wit hSean and Mike and Mike,
And their girlfriends,
Meg and Gabby.

I cannot wait
To see the Jets pound it,
My bro's 'gang' I had recently noticed.
I cannot wait to see Grant
And Lucas and Adam and Cody
All happy at the same time.

I cannot wait to see Lyssa smile,
which she always does so rarely,
I cannot wait to see a half-smile,
Or at least a little smirk,
Which is what I haven't seen
In a long, long time.

St. Louis will be a lot of fun,
I assure you,
Lots better than those sadistic days,
It will be the best,
Especially if Lyn comes by my side.

It will be a lot of fun,
Reliving the memories I had,
I assure you it will be great,
And just as good as the last I came.

by Justin Reamer

Comments (3)

A sonnet that is one of the 'frenzied' group that starts with 147, My love is as a fever longing still, and continues up to150, possibly also including the last two of the series,151 and 152. What is striking about this one is the number of echoes it brings back from the earlier sonnets to the youth, perhaps because it is seeking deliberately to contrast the pure love of that period with the tainted love he has for his dark lady, possibly because the language of love, as it was then defined, forced upon the sonneteer a certain number of conventional ideas which were used and re-used, many re-appearing frequently in slightly different clothing, like a play which is performed by too few actors. ..
Here the poet protests his devotion to his cruel beloved, detailing the many ways in which he has shown willingness to serve her. Nevertheless she is unresponsive, and does not repay love with love. His conclusion is framed in the conventional terms of the blindness of love, and the deduction that his mistress does not love those who cannot see what is before their eyes. It is probably not necessary to interpret the conclusion in any real psychological sense, for one suspects it has little or no bearing on what the woman herself was thinking. Its importance is more that it shows the poet casting round desperately for a solution, trying to come to terms with his rejection, and in the end only succeeding in explaining it in terms of rather worn out sonneteering conventions, which leave him as blind as ever. shakespeares-sonnets.com/
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out