Memories Are Made of This


This week’s creative theme is “memories are made of this” and I really liked this little poem on memory by Irish poet William Allingham.  The picture above is by his wife, Helen. They were clearly a couple who were very fond of ducks!


A Memory

Four ducks on a pond,
A grass-bank beyond,
A blue sky of spring,
White clouds on the wing;
What a little thing
To remember for years-
To remember with tears!


Prompt:  I have written something on my memories of volunteering and volunteers as we are celebrating volunteers this week – but have kept that separate as you can write about any memories – good or bad, happy or sad (whatever you want to do is all right with me).  Oh! I have an Al Green earworm now.



9 thoughts on “Memories Are Made of This

  1. Also from Urszula, a few lines and a brilliant photo. I guess it counts as a memory (they can be recent, after all) or we could consider the cats and dog volunteers?

    How many cats does it take to set off for a walk?
    4 and a dog

    Setting out for our usual daily walk.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. These two photos of oak my back garden. The first taken on April 1st just as we were wondering of what was to come. The second taken today June 4th.. The tree of knowledge was my dad’s favourite tree. These trees were nurtured by a man who goes by the name of Louis an early member of Catch 23. Brought to the island as acorns in his pockets planted in pots and then bought to Catch 23 for shelter. I bought seven for a donation of seed money for Catch 23 garden. My son was about 4 and he and his two we pals all help me plant them Five have survived. How wonderful they look in their lush green leaves. A signal that things are changing as lockdown eases. Renewal, as the earth had a moment to breath.

    Hilary Sludden


    By Marie Cable.

    I live alone and miss the time of childhood when I lived in a big family. There was always something going on but one of the special times was when we got the television. It was a Saturday afternoon and my dad told us to go out and not come back until five o’clock. Maureen and I went to the hairdressers and the boys went to the cinema. When we returned the T.V. was all set up and the first thing we watched on it was the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Also on Saturday night was Juke Box Jury which was also enjoyable. Another Saturday night favourite was The Billy Cotton Band Show. Two of the regulars on it were Kathy Kay and Matt Monroe. I took it for granted then but I now realise how good a singer Matt Monroe was. Late on, in the Seventies, I enjoyed Parkinson. All this was on BBC1 the only channel we could get at first.

    Another memory of my childhood and teenage years is going over to Carloway to my Granny’s and Uncle, and Aunty and cousins on a Friday night. We went to my Granny’s first though the boys went to see my cousins. After having tea with my granny we then went to see my Aunty and had tea there and there were usually home made scones. On the way home we visited other relatives and had tea there too!



    How I missed
    Your whistles
    By your grief,
    By your
    Then, one day,
    On the turntable you
    ‘Lay Lady Lay’
    And as the needle
    Allowed Bob Dylan
    To play,
    You whistled…

    Later I say:
    “What colour are your whistles
    In your synesthetic
    Kind of way?”
    “Matts”, you say,
    “Nice matts of muted colours,
    Mauves and blues
    You know
    That kind of way…?

    Hilary Sludden

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Memories are made of this

    I was looking for an old photograph and
    Came across one of me being held up
    In front of a man sitting in the front row of
    An audience of people and holding a doll
    I was about four or five
    He was a very prestigious concert pianist
    I had to recite a little poem and give him a Polish dressed doll

    A few days ago I woke up and suddenly
    Remembered the name of the man in this photo
    After nearly 70 years, Małcużynski
    I had only met him briefly and did not appreciate his music
    Today I was listening to it on YouTube.




    Coming to me
    On the edge of sleep
    Black and white and iridescent
    Like old movie frames
    Faces i have known
    People i have loved
    Places i have been
    Muted sounds of laughter of unbridled glee
    Disjointed words from passionate talks long into hazy nights
    The touch of bodies long gone which still lingers.
    Memories enfold me where i lie
    In bittersweet seconds, becoming all encompassing hours
    As night sweeps on into day.

    I see my children’s faces changing
    As my understanding of what it means to be a mother changes constantly
    I see their lives evolve and i try to hold on
    But the memories flit as they grow

    Laughter, love and tears meld into me
    As i accept time has passed
    Thankful for the love that will always exist
    In the past, th represent and the future.

    Memories of hardship pinch my brain
    As i try to breathe steady
    Big breath in
    Big breath out
    The breathing calms me
    And i am met with the realisation

    Letting go of wishfullness and realising
    I have lived a life worth considering
    As the camera shuts down
    And i fall into sleeping
    To wake up dreaming
    Of times to come.

    Cathy Macleod

    Liked by 1 person

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