Long ago Thoughts
By skinner_jennifer
- 128 reads
Breathing 3am air, the streets
showed hidden secrets as we
combed the low walls, initials
were carved with no real value,
and full moon failed to appear.
Chill air embraced as me and my
companion walked in pure silence,
many deep thoughts on life flowed
during the descent into dawn.
Reaching home, too sleepy for
chatter of the night, gradually
preparing for peaceful sleep,
visualizing glittering moments
etched...
I was part of the weird and groovy
hippies, dancing with nature to
increase my energy, strengthening
love of imagination.
I've always been open minded to
friendly gestures that touch my
soul, when someone shows an
action that's swift as wind – like
expressing thoughts in writing that
are here today and gone tomorrow.
A memory of walking home after
a night of much merry making.
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Comments
Ah, youth. Where does it go?
Ah, youth. Where does it go?
I'm still a hippy now, in my own way ![]()
Very evocative poem.
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I was living near Totnes in
I was living near Totnes in the '70s. I started work there when I was 15 - at Hill's Devon Cider, near Ashburton. Maybe you sampled our wares on one of those evenings. ![]()
It was a magical time for me, too. I knew nothing. But I didn't know that I knew nothing. And that ignorance was a kind of bliss. It wasn't until I read Thoreau that I realised that other people thought as I thought. I still stick by those principles as much as possible. Tread lightly. See the profound in the simple.
Here's to the years behind and the years ahead of doing things we shouldn't be doing!
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I like your first two lines
I like your first two lines so much, showing how night time can seem like a different world, your walk home must have been very special, and your memory stays so clear between writing on a wall to writing about that writing here, even if the full moon didn't appear, you have conveyed the intensity of a bright moment
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Clifton
Clifton's a lovely place Jenny. I've many great memories of it too. This is going to wreck my credibility as a would-be hippy but I once saw S Club 7 and Billie Piper performing live at the The Radio One Big Sunday gig on Clifton Downs. I might not have gone had it not been for my children.
I also have fond memories of grown-up fun sitting on the quayside near Bristol Bridge with friends and döner kebabs on warm summer evenings after the pubs had shut but with the need to continue talking nonsense and laughing hysterically.
I always enjoy your recollections of past times in Bristol as they stir recollections of my own. And I very much enjoyed your poem.
Turlough
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Ahh, Bristol!
Ahh, Bristol!
I hated my job in Bristol but I loved the journey to and from work. Each morning I would cycle from my house to Chippenham railway station, a journey of about three miles, most of which was along the bank of the Avon and through a big park. Once the train had passed through Corsham and Box tunnel the route followed the beautiful St Catherine’s valley, skirting the Kennet & Avon canal in places, until it reached Bath. There the wonderful Georgian architecture could be admired from the train window because of the elevation of the railway line. Beyond Bath the river broadened and meandered, passing through Keynsham before entering the built-up part of Bristol by squeezing through a gorge somewhere near Longwell Green.
From Templemeads I would walk along the pathway that followed the bank of the Cut to Bristol Bridge where our lovely old Victorian red brick office building was situated. Sometimes I’d buy a bacon butty and a coffee from a shop near the station and eat it on one of the river taxis that ran to Bristol Bridge. Until the point where I sat down at my desk it was like being on holiday.
I’d see kingfishers every morning by the river in Chippenham and cormorants in the Cut in Bristol, and I’d see deer, rabbits and hares grazing in the fields near Keynsham.
The people I worked with were lovely too. It really was only the work and the company’s awful clients (who were scattered all over England and Wales) that spoiled it. I’m glad I went there but I’m glad I left. It was a long six years.
Ahh, Bristol!
Turlough
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Atmospheric and pensive.
Atmospheric and pensive. Bristol's not far from me these days.
You build reflection into your poetry so naturally, Jenny. It makes it so accessible.
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