Tag Archives: memories

Statistically Significant

Author’s note; I wrote this a while back, but decided enough time has passed, that it was time to dust it off and put it out in the visible universe.

Apart so long,
His heart began
A mournful song,
For his tears to gan.

Desire to see her
Once again, intensifies;
Until similar features
Trick his eyes:

Others, he knows,
Are not her,
Yet seem for a moment
They could be.

These hold his gaze
Until at last
He is satisfied
They are too dissimilar.

But it seems
The greater his longing,
The less similar
Another must look;

At what degree of dissimilarity
Will his eyes cease their tricks?
What is the threshold to keep them
Statistically significant?

©2023 H.K. Longmore

Out to Lunch

Allow me to set the stage:
The stage was set,
From strings to winds,
Percussion at their back.

Trombone scans the audience
Looking for familiar face;
Between strings and lights,
Sees none.

No matter,
Though life-changing it could be:
Now is time to focus,
Now is time to play.

Trombone shifts to euphonium;
Focus, his shadow.
Back to trombone,
Shadow maintained.

Applause over,
Ovations ended,
Instruments
Clear the stage.

Brain out to lunch, shadow stays;
Trombone turns to talk to tuba,
Then bid farewell until next time
The orchestras combine.

Leaving the stage,
To retrieve his shell,
Trombone's brain
Returns from lunch.

"By the way,"
Trombone brain says,
Replaying the recording made
While out to lunch,

"Someone called out,
'Nice job on the trombone!'
While you were talking to the tuba."
It may have been that familiar face.

Already gone from the stage,
And minutes passed,
Trombone
Picks up the pace.

Back on stage,
Putting instruments in case,
Trombone searches remaining audience,
Finds no familiar face.

Trombone leaves
To put all gear
In his car,
Then enters again

In search of that voice,
That face.

Crowd thinned,
It was clear,
The Complimenter
Had left.

Trombone replayed the compliment,
To identify the voice;
Memory obscured by delay
Before the replay.

Time steals clarity,
Memory morphs,
'Til Trombone remembers it
As if compliment was heard when spoken,

Leaving Trombone with the guilt
Of ignoring the Complimenter,
And the effect,
But not the intention.

© 2023 H.K. Longmore

Etch-a-Sketch Memories

I trace the lines
One more time.
And again and again
I review the details.

They are all there;
No minutia missing.
Memories that keep me up
Etched into grey granite.

Not afraid of the future,
But afraid of repeating the past,
I store them safely, securely,
Where they can govern future actions.

Sometimes I wish I etched them
On an Etch-a-Sketch.
I’d repeat some mistakes,
But the granite gets heavy.

A year or more
Peppered with granite memories
Will weigh me down;
A millstone around my neck.

Weighed down by granite
For a year or more
Will bring me to
Depressed.

Head hit pillow
Two hours ago.
Sleep deprivation
Should have won by now.

It’s nearly four o’clock,
The lines still etch.
Can I just throw away this granite,
Or trade it for an Etch-a-Sketch?

© 2015 H.K. Longmore