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Patagonia Lost (Hometown or area where one grew up contest)

In many ways I’ve left behind the friends and loves
I cherished most, and yet as years go by the word
adios is bound to me with sounds of austral doves,
of unreal Patagonian skies, where a circling bird

swoops to snatch a creature fleeing in the brush;
of trails Tehuelche stalked in bygone days,
of nomad camps remote from noise and rush,
when armies hadn’t sliced the steppes with railways

built to traffic guns, nor white man purged
the boundless plains of jaguars and ñandues.
Now concrete dams and pylons emerge
on cactus lands, bones shed lucent hues

on tablelands swept dry by singing winds.
Thus memory is laced with images
of childhood pastures, as well as tender things
the mind will not let go despite the ravages

of time and loss. So to the present day I smile
to think of worlds I lost, of red horizons
receding in a cone of southern light, while
myths and spirits summon me from pantheons

of Patagonian lore. Yet in the mist of fading
thoughts that grip my heart, or force an odd grimace
to cling to phantom walls, I cannot bring alive the swaying
poplar trees, nor speak to you, nor touch your face.

Last few words: 
For the Hometown or area where one grew up. Contest.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

i always see so much imagery within your poems, and this has no exeption it's full. i feel a great sadness and i find this also haunting almost like a bitter sweet that you miss your home, yet with the most humble of memories,
your language is superb as usual. your last lines say so much. Good luck this is beautiful.

Thank you...Teddy

Dear Teddy, thanks so much for your encouraging comments. Yes, I miss my childhood, but so does everybody, unless there's been some extremely traumatic events down the way.
I'm glad you like the imagery, I wasn't sure whether to enter this one, as it's a bit vague about one's homestead, but the stipulations do say "area" is OK. So I'm sending it in.
All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

it's LyndaK. for Jerry. The landscape you are describing sounds so beautiful, almost prehistoric in many aspects. You have my vote. L. for JerryK.

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>Please visit my website: www.jerrykspoetry.com

Hello Lynda, I'm so glad you're participating at Neopoet. The area where I live has many pre-historic aspects to it. Too long to describe, but googling tells it all. I'm glad I live here. How is Jerry? I understand he's having eye surgery. Here's praying that all goes well and that he'll be back presently. Thank you so much for coming over, love to you and Jerry, may all go well. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

of a ride through old home territory, where I used to live with my first wife. A rural-farming area, where once stood farmhouses, now are the condos and the big-box stores like Walmart. Open fields have given way to the driveways of large houses that are the homes of upper-level middle-class folks eager to move out of the city and the hustle and bustle. I try to remember the woods and the little two lane roads that wound through the countryside, but am frustrated in those attempts by the strangeness of the scene. You have brought me here to another time, long ago and that is what I was looking for in this one. Good work. ~ Geez.
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Dear Geez, you're so right. Nowadays the farmers live in the nearest town, where they can have all the fun they want these days (except for the pandemic). The old store on a corner is now a large supermarket. There are condos, same as you describe.
I'm lucky to have had the lovely experiences living on the apple farm. Also for being taken by Dad to faraway estancias and little towns.
I'm glad I've brought you to the places you mention, the lanes and fields, if only in your memory.
Thanks so much for your encouraging comments, best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

I've only seen your land on television but your descriptions of what was and what now is seem spot on. We all want our places to progress but often we pay a heavy price

Hi Stan, yes, quite so. Fortunately, Patagonia is underpopulated, except in the towns, many of which cater for tourism. This year none, of course, which brought hardship to many people.
I love the area where I grew up, as well as where I live now. It's a quiet area with earth roads. I can't help repeating that there should be more earth or natural pebble roads on this planet.
The world is paying a heavy price. A vaccine for Covid might be possible, but we've reached the tipping point as far as climate is concerned. If our Antarctic ice sheets should collapse due to the warm currents beneath them, the sea level would rise at least 2 meters.
Thanks for you comments, all the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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