Myriads of Memories

this page contains Part one of

Myriads of Memories

by Amy Davis White

Here is a woman's story, from her beginning.

Part one

The poet dwells in lofty halls
That never enter the minds of those
Who seldom read more than simple prose,
Nor stop to be still, nor merely pause
To think.

The poet is scorned by some of these:
Those creatures who never reach up to touch,
Possess, digest, write down the much
More glorious thoughts the poet can see
And feel.

Can't you see the music?
Can't you feel the colors?
Can't you hear the rainbow ever reaching out to others?

Don't you talk to sunshine?
Don't you dream the stars?
Can't you sense the hist'ry, or remember future wars?

Stop, my friend, and listen!
Pause to watch birds flying!
Slow your rapid frenzy and re-learn the art of living!

A poem I felt the other day
Came softly, like a cloud of spray;
And steadfastly the wordlets blew
Around my head, as if they knew
I listened.

The rustling thoughts roared silently
And faded simply, gradually,
And then returned like hurricanes
To drown me in their beating rains.
I listened.

There is a depth within me which I taste
With eager stealth, preferring to digest
Each morsel with deliberated zest
Rather than gulping ravenously.  Haste
Invites inversions and neglect of nooks.
I feel reluctant to miss one microbe;
Yet insubstantial are the bytes I probe,
So unimposing, uninscribed in books
Of mortal making.  Difficulties come
With transformation of thought forms to speech.
This wisdom is the star for which I reach
When poetry possesses me.  Sad --- some
There are without capacity to meld
With vast omegas I've sometimes beheld.

When I was a child in my mother's soft bed,
I lay on my pillow and counted my head.
And now in my own bed I quietly lie,
And, counting my head again, see it pass by.

It floats there above me, and tickles my feet,
And now and again it begins to repeat:
"The highness and lowness of wisdom and folly,
The difference between melancholy and jolly,

"The hardships and comforts of life and of death,
Can never be answered in one single breath.
For wisdom needs patience and folly needs none,
And sadness is measured by what good you've done,

"And life, good or bad, depends largely on love
And how you've depended on help from above."
Then this comes, the last thing to add to the list:
"Your worth is well measured by how much you're missed."

I stare into an openness --- my life has just begun ---
I'm told that I must choose the way I want my feet to run.
I find the choices difficult --- so many seem so great ---
And yet I'm told that only one of them is truly straight.
I say I need experience before I win or lose;
They say the only way to gain experience is choose.
They also say that win and lose are only relative,
And loss and gain don't matter if you just learn how to live.

Far Horizons

The wind is blowing me onward,
But I don't know where I'm bound;
Not a whisper, not a sound
Tells me what is to be found
When my destination's ground
Comes in view.

The wind is blowing me upward.
And I listen for some clue,
And I watch for those things new,
And I wait for something true
That with hope I could pursue ---
Something rare.

The wind is blowing me forward.
As I pause to sniff the air,
I can hope for one thing there
That with others I might share;
This thing grand, and this thing fair ---
Made with gold.

The wind is blowing me homeward.
When I find this thing to hold,
I'll be wary, and yet bold
To show others what I fold
To my heart that's young when old.
I'll be crowned!

Time spins an infinite cocoon
About the moth of life awaiting light.
Youth bears, impatiently, the past.
The morning sun can wash away the night.

Life's Lost Lustre

There was a time when all the world was fair,
Veiled in imagination's gossamer,
With shimmering transparencies aglow.
But that, my friend, was childhood --- long ago.
There are some few left who can yet retain
The mem'ry of the wonder, who remain
Children at heart.  How seldom is there met
A full grown man, frown-creased with wisdom, yet
So full of mysteries inside that he
The world with eyes of innocents can see!
A wondrous meeting to be treasured, with
An ancient infant;  legendary;  myth.

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