Solidly Framed

You can't break that glass!

We’ll all be pictures one cold day,

cut down to size behind the glass.

Forgotten images in grey,

mere fossils of a life that’s passed.

A snapshot chosen in some haste,

perhaps a grin, perhaps a frown,

becomes our  glued “forever” face,

while flesh is dust under the ground.

Hanging in silence, day or night
Imprint of us solidly framed
Staring blankly devoid of sight
Dated and indifferently named

A fly upon the chin may land,

or crawl across the nose in jest;

Its filthy drool defiles the hand,

but we can’t brush it from the chest.

People will flow yet seldom glance,

Some offering a dismissive line.

Some may linger purely by chance

Treating us like mystical shrines.

And so not once but buried twice,

Inside a photo and a grave.

In that eventual grip like vice 

Our fists won’t shake, our hands won’t wave.

~~~~~~

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[JMichael]

Good luck trying to get me into a photo frame. That will be almost impossible! (Cue evil laugh track)

The poem does hit on a very relevant theme; the deceased hung on walls in polished frames as a sign of remembrance but becoming dusty and forgotten with the passing of time. I think most people mean well when they hang their lost loved ones on the wall, but life and time just never slows down and it becomes very easy to overlook that person staring emptily in that frame. At the least it exists to remind us of who they were so we can pause and reflect on them in moments of important relevance.

A timely theme for me and one that hits all the correct emotions. Well rhymed and conveyed.

[DIVYA]

Thanks a lot, JM. When I look at my late dad's pic, I just wonder at how all that passion and dynamism is stilled. A frozen likeness watching helplessly as his zealously guarded domain crumbles. In the end, our fate is just to become a gloriied sticker. I appreciate your visit so much. 💕

[DIVYA]

And wishes for us to be 100 together (outside the frane) 😜

[Michael Sun Bear]

Oh, well done! I have reached an age that I often muse about being gone from people’s lives, becoming just a memory, if that! I love the really clever way you have written about such sentiments in your lovely poem here. My favorite line: And so not once but buried twice, Inside a photo and a grave.

[DIVYA]

Thank you so much Michael. Great to see you on this page. I think we all muse about that day when we'll be gone. But till then, there's life to be celebrated.

[Vol]

Divya.
What a brilliant poem! All my loved ones, stuck on paper, tossed in one of the boxes I keep them in, people whose voices I can still hear, and still close my eyes to see in that place we used to go and do those things that made us...
I need to go and visit them...
Vol

[DIVYA]

Dear Vol,
I read your poem on how vividly you see them and how painfully you miss the presence of those you love. Life takes our crutches one by one till we fall flat. I can feel your pain and understand your yearnings but do cherish your time under the sun, my friend.

[Vol]

It is the thing about being human... we remember.

[DIVYA]

Indeed Vol....

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I always take really bad pictures anyway. Stems from being a little kid and being told to smile when I wasn't feeling it. Forced smiles are worse than frowns.

[DIVYA]

I agree with you and I'm just like you. I abhor photos too. I think cremating all pics is a good idea.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I want all my pictures cremated along with my body.
Then I can become just a figment of others' imaginations.
People will ask, "Where is he?" And the reply will be, "He's all gone up in smoke!"

[DIVYA]

Okay, my friend but those who care about you would certainly look to preserve a likeness....Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on this poem.

[Chris Shaw]

You remind me here of my mother’s chest of family photographs. Some framed, some unframed. Some relatives I knew personally, others I never met, but heard stories about. They stare back at us lifeless. A moment in time captured, but their essence isn’t. They are just gathering dust, as we all will one day. How fleeting life is DIVYA. Best make the most of every single day. Beautifully penned.

Chris

[DIVYA]

Thank you so much, dear Chris! I always stare at my passed loved ones and shiver at the weirdness of life. Those yellowing, fading pictures were such living, laughing, talking people once! And now??? Yes, you're so right my dear friend, all we have is the now and the here. Yes, let's make the most of our time under the sun. Wishing you a wonderful and blessed day and week! ❤️💐

[Sapphus]

I'm awaiting my fate. Will try to wave from there

[DIVYA]

Thank you so much dear Sapphus. I hope you live to be 100 and more. ❤️