One Shoot Sunday and Memory Lane–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

Good Morning! It’s One Shoot Sunday again! The following is quoted to attribute the photographer and the site that supports and encourages The Poetry Challenge of One Shoot Sunday.

“Greg Laychak is what is known as a documentary photographer. Originally from Canada, Greg has since moved to South Korea, where he created his prominent work, “Fading Voices” – a photo documentary project about victims/survivors of sexual slavery from WWII. Greg’s work often focuses on the concept of identity, a fact that hovers, almost hauntingly, through many of his photographs.

If you’re interested in seeing more of his work, note that it will be exhibiting in London from May 11 through 24 at the Hotshoe Gallery.

~Chris Galford

Memory Lane
Looking far ahead
from my place
in this
hall
of memories

I live
here,
it
holds
me
and all

that I see
in windows
delusion
or fog
mine

never touched
but by me
things snatched
shoved
placed
carefully
or not
into baskets of safety
and ownership
along my way
and yours

I sit and caress them
order them
change me
and what I think of them
my brothers and sisters
no doors to close
and

I sit
up
a bit straighter
the leaves
on the trees
laugh and chatter
dancing on refreshing breezes
and grinning
lightness
in the Sun.

–by Elisabeth Connelley, Purple Profundity

16 thoughts on “One Shoot Sunday and Memory Lane–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

    • Thanks! I think, that in many ways, it is a dishonor to our elders, to adopt, to transfer, and to project marketing ideas about doom and gloom upon them. I can see and empathize with those who have issues to deal with about Alzheimer’s and death and aging, however many miss the simple and daily joys as life continues. I’m having trouble coming up with ‘nice’ things to say, as I sigh and click away from the poems that are showing this reaction. I think that there are new experiences and enchantments in each human breath that we can manage to drag within our bodies and that the spirit dances on.

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  1. I really like that fourth stanza, and also the ending.

    WordPress logs me automatically as my fictional alter ego coalblack, but it’s Fireblossom. I’m glad I wasn’t all alone in being a little iffy about the prompt today.

    Thanks for sharing this poem with us. Happy Easter!

    FB

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    • Yes, it seems many of the interpretations of this week’s image triggered such reactions. The over-all subject matter of the artist’s images are for a documentary about sex slaves from WWII. I can understand the subject matter and yes, the poem can reflect that part of me and hide it in interpreting how the people in the images might think and cope, survive and live. 🙂 Out of a tomb on Easter Sunday yes!

      Or, I could just be full of crap.

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  2. i hear you (your comment) reading through today it was rather depressing, had to take some time away and come back…i am glad for your positive turn there in the end…hope you had a great weekend…

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    • hmmm
      I”m thinking that I made a lot of comments, and thus, am unsure which one you meant, that triggered such a reaction in you. I think, in a general sort of way, when sharing about my life with others, people want to only hear the bits that strike them as good. Still other people want to hear what strikes them as bad. Being honest isn’t negative nor depressing. It just is. There are so many seconds in a day in which something leaps joyously forward to be felt and expressed, or sometimes expressed and then felt!

      I cannot not be me. I can wallow, then I can grab the wallow like so much dropped willow strands and make a beautiful basket, conversion is most excellenty!

      ps. let me know if I can be of any assistance in your processing and decoding the message that I sent in comments 🙂

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  3. I loved your take on the long hallway as “memory lane” — and finding a way to survive what’s there, never was and is still blooming. – Brendan

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    • YAY!! I was understood!!! Someone could identify!!! Kisses your forehead! Survival also, doesn’t always mean regret, doesn’t always mean sorrow, just as the seasons pass and move along the wheel, so do all things! (Well, unless one tries to run along stapling them all into place roflmao, good luck with that!)

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