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Walls

walls hold stories
aged under layers of paint
piled one over the other
pink, blue, scarlet, off white
like cover pages of a book
reminders of
the shades, shadows, smells
faded over time

a mirror on the wall
flips page after page
making me hop, step and jump
into the present

I open the french window
to a welcome gush
caressing the wind chimes
with a silken touch

hearing knocking on the door
through the peephole
I see a silhouette
co-author of some tales

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

I just have to question the last line...that high pitch noise, a shrill of alien sound, of songs played in rewind...which I guess means via tape as is the only way to "rewind"..just can't catch that image with the wall. Just ending with

listening to the echoes songs

works for me. Anybody else agree?

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Thanks for sparing your valuable time to read my scribbles
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raj (sublime_ocean)

author comment

this is a great write, my friend!
i like the imagery,
the idea,
the bitterness, and the echoes of the wind chimes.

the list of colors talks to the list of your memories, and reinforced by the image of the the pages of your life flipping in front of your eyes in the mirror (great figurative speech).
Your jumping out of the window and then knocking on the door made me think. Don't you think that jumping is a kind of final act? are you knocking in the gates of post life? I associate echo and chimes with ghosts. Was it your intention?
Thank you very much for another delightful write.

Sincerely your friend, Irene

IRiz

Appreciate sparing your valuable time to read my scribbles

many thanks and regards
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raj (sublime_ocean)

author comment

don't say scribbles and don't be angry with me
i am a slow reader and only write comments when i mean them

IRiz

not at all angry...i respect time of others and their choices...
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raj (sublime_ocean)

author comment

I like walls too. They tell tales but often hold secrets too. As this poem illustrates the tales they tell can be defined by the listener as much as the teller....stan

Thanks Stan for taking time to read my scribbles and comment. Appreciated.
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raj (sublime_ocean)

author comment

As stan say's walls have many secrets, and as your poem says stories to tell. Sitting here I look at my own walls, and wonder what stories they would be telling. But we humans can build many different walls, some only in our heads. I think this is part of what your poem is saying. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

Thanks Roscoe for taking time for reading my scribbles and your analysis. Appreciated..
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raj (sublime_ocean)

author comment
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