FAMILIAR

 

 

 

Familiar

There is much comfort found here,

in the familiar, like a favourite jumper,

that no longer fits, yet is kept still,

but not for its warmth or look.

This place slides easily to mind’s eye,

chased by hurtling memory,

alight with perfect clear.

All is as was and will ever be,

for neither time’s blanching, nor decay’s

pestilence can gain purchase on

such memory.

The soot sullied stone with scars still,

laurel and beech ageless,

shadowing the mullioned glow of fire and light,

are not frozen, not trapped, just elsewhere,

an elsewhere that allows me

to stand again, beside you,

there on the step, where a boy often sat,

and postmen knelt to deliver chance,

where I learnt of life from you both,

of its many smiles and ways.

We know it is a finite treasure,

of dread determination,

and unswerving course,

yet endure the pain of loss.

For in the end it is small coin

to pay for such a loan.

9 thoughts on “FAMILIAR

  1. Nigel, there is so much beauty in your poem that my heart brimmith
    over. From an old jumper that doesn’t fit anymore your memories
    flood, creating a tangible tale of childhood and growing up.

    Nothing can gain purchase on such memories that flood you. They
    survive time.
    ” For in the end it is a small coin to pay
    for such a loan “.
    So deep, so beautiful. Thank you Nigel.

    Miriam

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is absolutely beautiful, Nige. We hold such memories dear, much like the sentimental value of a physical something simply because of the memories attached to it. The house is a lovely image with much character. Your beautiful words make me feel as if I could reach out and touch it and feel all the love within.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much Lynn, you’ve hit the nail with your thoughts. The house is not mine, but is a Guiseley property, quite near. I’m sure you’ll remember I bought the house I grew up in to raise my children in the same place. It was my only ‘materialistic’ goal. Soppy tyke heehee !

      Liked by 1 person

      1. The houses there are charming. I do remember, and I think that’s wonderful. What better ‘materialistic’ goal to have? That’s your caring nature, wanting them to have a solid foundation, a place full of good memories that you could share with them and they could also make their own always knowing they were surrounded by love.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I love the flow and feeling you get with this excellent poem Nigel and it has got my mind thinking about the houses that have left memories during life’s journey. Not only houses where we lived, but friends houses where as kids we spent a lot of time. Your last two lines have me thinking that memories are like a mortgage, taken out over a long period of time and paid for in installments.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Davy, I often used to think about how objects may ‘record’ events, peoples feelings that could be read by others (psychometry). As a teenager I once wandered into an antique shop and picked a small inlaid rosewood box. I immediately felt fear and found it hard to breathe. So shocking was the experience I ran out. It was my only such experience and I make no paranormal claims, yet to this day the only 2nd hand personal things I buy are books. My poem ‘the box’ was loosely inspired by the event.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It is an interesting subject area Nigel and something, in years to come, discovered we all have. I sometimes get that feeling with places, especially rooms. Maybe some kind of conditioning from my police days?

        Liked by 1 person

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