avatarEmily Wilcox

Summary

The provided content is a poetic narrative about an individual's accidental time travel to the 1960s, experiencing the era's culture and grappling with the complexities of temporal displacement.

Abstract

The narrative poem "Back to the Sixties" describes a speaker's serendipitous journey to the past, where they encounter the vibrant culture of the 1960s, including a jukebox and a vintage telephone. The speaker reflects on the unexpected appreciation for a song that they will later dislike, suggesting a complex relationship with time and personal growth. The poem captures the speaker's sense of wonder and the bittersweet nature of nostalgia, as they find the past to be both enchanting and disorienting. The experience leads to a contemplation on the nature of time travel, which, while confusing, reveals the beauty of bygone times and raises questions about the speaker's future and the possibility of returning to their original timeline.

Opinions

  • The speaker expresses a newfound appreciation for a song they previously disliked, indicating a change in perspective or taste influenced by the time travel experience.
  • There is a sense of ambivalence towards the concept of returning to the future, as the past is portrayed as alluring and captivating.
  • The poem conveys that time travel, while a fascinating concept, is complex and confusing, as evidenced by the speaker's admission that it "hurts my head."
  • The speaker seems to embrace the unpredictability of their situation, showing a willingness to explore and enjoy the past despite the uncertainty of their future.
  • The use of specific imagery, such as the jukebox and the spiraling phone chord, suggests a nostalgic longing for the simplicity and tangibility of past technologies compared to the future's potential for complexity and detachment.

Back to the Sixties

A poem about time travel

Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash

I travelled to the past today. It was easier than I thought. Strolled through the right door and the wrong time, it seems. Now in the sixties I’m caught.

There’s a jukebox to the right of me. It’s free to use and vibrant blue. I walk up to it, filter through it, I never used to like this song. Now I do.

Or I guess, at some point, I won’t. Out there in the future, I mean. If I ever make it back — I’m not too worried about that. Turns out the past is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.

There’s a phone attached to a chord just there. It spirals up and round. When it rings, it’s shrill, it shrieks, it sings. It’s a rather deafeningly loud sound.

I think it’s 1962 today. Yesterday was over fifty years ahead. I don’t know how I got here, or even why. Time travel don’t half hurt my head.

Poetry
Poem
Poetry On Medium
Writing
Time
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