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Sunday, September 13, 2015

The Mag 285

American dream

In the detritus
Of a life left behind
I find dioramas
In my mind
Second grade snapshots
Of the american dream
The Waltons had one
In theirs the Cleavers had fun
Dreams of cinematic
Days gone bye
Of a bygone era
The baby boomers
All had rooms
Yards to play in
In the attic of the home
That is no longer ours
I come by this memory
Of yours
And all my scars
Stand at attention
Each one just the same
A memory of
Days gone by
Bygone relics of the
American dream

Chris McQueeney ©2015

This post inspired by the image prompt from Tess at The Mag.  


Rommy said...

Clever to call upon those images we were told of what a home ought to be and twist it.

Michael said...

Im afraid the dream is fading. Perhaps never to return.

Charleen said...

Seems like your response and mine are similar. I'm curious to see how you'll perceive my poem.

DEE DEE said...

Sad and beautiful

Cat-tails: here be wagging tales said...

I don't often quote other poets here, but 'in the attic of the home that is no longer ours...' just struck a poignant chord with me - lovely craftmanship

brudberg said...

I think many dreams are fading.. as the bank moves in.. that's really how it has ended for too many,

Karen S. said...

So real this is!

Truedessa said...

It is harder and harder to obtain the American Dream...there are many without jobs and foreclosures happen everyday and many are homeless. A poem with a message..

cifar shayar said...

nice work

My take : A Small Home