Amnesiac
Even though sometimes,
while we sleep,
Car tires sizzle over wet streets
And the rain washes the day away from the pavements,
The heart still wants to be an amnesiac.
Poems on the topic: memory
Poems on the topic “memory” on Poets.by.
sins
Perhaps
I don't deserve
Nice things
Cause I'm paying
For the sins I don't
Remember
nostalgia
l looked at a picture of us
You had the most breathtaking smile
What happened to the little girl
that dreamed the impossible
That would hide behind mum
when she was shy
You don't smile much anymore
and the things that do make you smile
aren't who you really are
I miss that little girl
that believed in herself
that thought she could do anything
l'm sorry that I couldn't protect you
From a world that broke your heart
I just want to see you
smile like you used to
My love
My love my love, my pain.
I stopped smiling since you're gone.
I sometimes pretend your arms are still around me. I sometimes pretend your hand is still in mine.
My love my love, my pain.
Do you ever pretend?
I wish we were back in your basement where nights never seemed to end.
I remember the feeling of your hand on my waist. I remember the sound of your heartbeat when we danced.
I remember softly placing my head on your chest.
My love my love, my pain.
Do you remember? When we kissed in silence surrounded by trees.
When we kissed underneath the starry skies. My love my love, my pain.
I miss your golden eyes
Once Upon a Time
They say it's a story
By starting with
Such a line
But I can't help
To think that maybe
That's a lie
It happened
So it should be
Once upon a time
Though maybe it
All is made up
Perhaps we aren't
Even here
The people you meet
The memories you've had
That is truly
Certain Thoughts Keep Repeating
I want to sleep
My thoughts however...
Why can't they stop?
Why do they keep repeating?
Why do I have to remember?
In the end I'm still awake,
Begging them to cease.
Those Shouldn't Matter Anymore
The goals and plans we made?
When we were together?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
The promises we made?
Only to break them?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
The compliments we gave each other?
Only to find out our true selves?
Those shouldn't matter anymore.
Even though we're now mean to each other,
We now have our own separate ways.
That shouldn't matter.
Yet why do I care?
Why do you care?
Why does it matter?
The Listener
His name was Tim McKay,
And he seldom had anything to say.
But he came to the club regularly
And listened to all our discussions.
He'd nod his head and smile,
And give us a toothy-giggly grin,
And he always seemed to understand.
Tim has gone on now.
And we all miss him down at the club.
We used to sit and talk to Tim for hours.
* * *
Some woman
Somewhere
Who almost
Nobody knows
Knows more than
Almost anyone is aware
She must exist
In small towns
On unlikely streets
Or next door
to your memory
Which childhood friend's mother
Was she
Wiser than your own
Some lady that you would recall
In unfamiliar kitchens making jello
Trial Run
I swing up the highway towards Accotane,
where a new brand of gas is to be named today.
The birds singing outside my window can't keep up
with the sound of a cassette in the darkened hallway.
Stars crash down against my windshield
at the rate of one per minute; many I don't see.
The head is splitting but I'm amnesiac;
each morning finds me in a different bed,
the same room, sheets a little duller brown.
The compulsion to meet my fate by collision
with a silver screen drives me on, selective
and uncertain, judging the curvature of the earth each moment
for a clue to the incidence of grit in my cornea.
A companion, more sensitive to the guttering drain
Poems of Myself & Other 3
Memory
mother of the Muses:
"I remember, I remember", that
was my father
"and when you are older"
holding on/to words
for fear of losing his mind,
--meaning words
" you'll be
sorry one day"
But I was on
a roller coaster and
the rides on the house. The question mark
was too far out for me
nor did those jewels
arrayed along the shelves
In Rememberance
Time's wings
have turned
into
scattered feathers
letters
forgotten
unwritten
the grass
now green
with rain
drops this
year's
flowers
against the
window.sight
changed eyes
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