What Was Once


What Was Once

When people speak of the times before now,
To what are they referring?

It is oft said upon others, where is the person once known?

Always does it come back to ‘what was once?’

And what was yesterday, but yet another reflection,
Moments caught up in the hourglass of reason,
Echoes receding like a thousand lost footsteps, a dereliction,
Abandoned thoughts, careless whispering,

Thoughts lost over time, traceable only by memory,
Inner portraits of the person still present,
Foundations from creation, drifting in err,
Illusions of what was once, now spent,

And what was once our yesterdays are sands slipping through rifts,
Of time, like escaping breath caught up on a cold day,
Held momentarily in a void, before the wind will shift,
Them away into nothing, so that may become our philosophy.

What was once simply was.

© Rory Matier 2017


13 thoughts on “What Was Once

  1. Nice poem Rory, yes the days of yesterday’s can bogle the mind if you sit and think about it too much. ❤️✌️


  2. Well expressed sentiments. Some people spend their whole lives in memories of the past. I think what is done and gone should be left there and we should move forward.

    1. Whilst l would generally agree, l think there comes a time when you do have to look a little further into things – l am currently digging deep for answers – l did wonder why. i know why now. I want to write a book this year, everything going on in my life today is critical for this book – l am getting the missing pieces of a large puzzle. it’s hard work, but l think it’ll be worthwhile.

        1. I think l am, it’s really strange – when l write certain poetry l have to be in the mood, l have to be in the method if that makes sense? Like an actor taking on a role and using the techniques of method to get into the role to deliver the performance.

          With the book, which l aim to call 5 Shipsa Docking is about the years of 2008 [Aspergers diagnosis] to 2018 [Father’s death] and looking at the events of everything in my life and how they affected those ten years specifically.

          I see chapters arising like the one Britchy suggested ‘Family isn’t a word it’s a sentence, and something my mother said to me yesterday ‘have you ‘laid your father’s ghost’ yet? going to make up the book itself, the puzzle of my lifetime is starting to be revealed.

          I can’t deny that it’s having a strange effect on me, all of this, it is, but it’s going back to those times and understanding where all the poetry memory started from as well. What was Once, is one such poem.

        2. I can understand that. That’s why when you were starting to unravel your Father’s writing I said that it’s like peeping into something private. But in this case you are discovering your own past.

Comments are closed.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: