Point of Origin
By JamesF
Sun, 13 Oct 2013
- 1232 reads
5 comments
This is the street
where you once lived
held as a child
in a neighbourhood
you loved to be.
The green leaves
unfurled each spring
like new born
twitching fingers
as you aged too.
You grew away
from these memories
lived on streets
you can no longer
remember existed.
No fixed address
is not a bad thing
but your mind still
wheels its way
back to that street.
Your point of origin
stands as a symbol,
a haven created
over time, whose hour
hand never stops.
Take a walk back
to reacquaint your
senses with place
known from the womb
where subconsciousness
Resides, where home
is concrete truth,
part of self, prone
to change, grown
from the same seed.
JRTF
10/10/2013
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Comments
Good, reflective piece, James
Permalink Submitted by hudsonmoon on
Good, reflective piece, James. I related very well. Occasionally I'll take a subway ride to the negihborhood where I was born and raised. And though i haven't lived there for almost 45 years, I'm always drawn back. It's like some force of nature I can't control. Well done here.
Rich
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Love that last stanza
Permalink Submitted by maggyvaneijk on
Love that last stanza
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Really liked this. I like how
Permalink Submitted by catherine poarch on
Really liked this. I like how you broke the sentences up into short lines (being a lazy reader!) Where I was born is thousands of miles away but in my mind I wheel back there, yes, and memory and senses have it. Your poem has a lovely coming home feel as well as a slight loneliness.
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