Days Past

Those days have passed,

into anathema,

left there to stay,

a part of history.

I’ve buried them

in the back yard,

where they will rot.

Why do you ask,

they be exhumed?

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About John White

I've written off and on my entire life. It took years for me to finally take putting words together seriously. Now it's not, nor does it ever feel, like work. Writing daily has become habitual. No day is complete without words having appeared on the page.

Posted on March 1, 2015, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.

  1. I like how you seemed to have used the metaphor of burying something that was dear to your heart without having to explicitly state it.

  2. let’s leave it where it is…

  3. writing, writing, words words words.

    Thank you; reading that poem was a *wonderful* experience!!

  4. I constantly struggle with this ;-b

  5. John – if you have reached that stage when you do not exhume your past, you’re right up there (and I mean this as a sincere compliment). Most of us, we try and try to bury it put it resurrects itself every one in awhile & we struggle with it.

    I can really connect with your poetry. Good going!

  6. Hey, apologies for the typos in the previous mail – my fingers were misbehaving! I meant “…..we try to bury it bit it resurrrects itself every once in awhile…”, but I guess you already caught that!

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