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Life Memory Poems | Life Poems About Memory

These Life Memory poems are examples of Life poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Life Memory poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Letter

"Dear Time"
Thank you for being patient, 
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls. 
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been 
   Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, ----- REMINISCING!
Sorry, if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying to remember, who I AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be, 
Is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe 
how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face 
Tell stories reminding my readers,
 Where I've been and come from
How consistent, and fortunate I've been, 
Babbling about my past, present, and future; 
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
 
Dear Time,
"Growing from young to old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with_____ Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please listen, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time -- once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry, food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' make me wear?
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty brownish red hair
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology, 
   When everything came with "ON and OFF" buttons.
Time understand what I go through, my legs never felt this tired 
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path, 
I lose track of time when navigating my toes

Dear Time, 
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see more
Time,  allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....

Dear Time, 
Thanks for having patience.

Sincerely Yours 
The Little Old Lady Across the Street

by: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy | |

I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help






Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Detach

Violet tulips
Each petal flips, another
Memory of you

©Drake J. Eszes 

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haibun | |

Tattered Pages


In the recollections of my journey thus far, the tattered pages of my life flutter
in my mind.  Like snapshots of times and places in black and white and color.
Haunting faces and glimpses of places.  Sad narratives come to mind along with
stories and the history of family. Happiness entwined with sadness is all mine.
I often open the rusty old gate and travel a winding path to a place of weeping.
And I stand trembling with the wind in my hair . . . 

the wind takes my hair
tangled branches creak and groan
whispering my name

And the tattered pages flutter.  I find myself in a church, ornately beautiful.
I am a little girl praying on my knees.  The hum of a thousand candles flicker.
Then I am holding my fathers hand as we stroll a lush green park.  We laugh
as we walk along, just me and my father.  We are going to feed the swans,
oh the beautiful floating white swans of my memory . . . 

crystal clear water
the swans silently drifting
they come to greet us

Like wings whirling the pages move.  I am me just a few weeks ago.  I
hold a single red rose and place it at his headstone.  I trace the words with
my finger.  Baby, son of . . . he never got to see the sky.  I never got to hold
him in my arms. I must turn this page for it is ripping out my heart and soul.
He the family secret not adopted but dead . . . 

and gentle rain falls
on a bright red rose bleeding
clouds darken the sky

___________________________
July 11, 2015


Haibun

For the contest, Haibun, sponsor, scott thiryseven

Third Place 


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum | |

Where Have They Gone


Where Have They Gone


Where have they gone, those days of old...
   their melody was simple, sweet;
a blending of the joys that hold
   warm thoughts in memories' retreat.

Their melody was simple, sweet:
   fires burning, loved ones gathered near;
warm thoughts in memories' retreat...
   that peace that hovered to hold dear.

Fires burning, loved ones gathered near; 
   chores done, the evening shared with zest.
That peace that hovered to hold dear
   life's humble ways and means as best.

Chores done, the evening shared with zest.
   A blending of the joys that hold
life's humble ways and means as best...
   where have they gone, those days of old?


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: A Pantoum - A Poet's Choice
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 04/04/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The Memory Box

Beneath this table sits a box
It’s scruffy, thin and battered.
 A cardboard box of memories
Of days that really mattered.

Confetti from my wedding day
A drawing by my mother
The shoes that took my son to school.
A photo of my brother

A tattered book of rhyming verse
My dad’s infatuation.
A silken flower, grandma’s ball
A golden celebration.

A pipe my granddad carved with love
A boyhood skill he cherished.
His baccy tin is scratched and bare
Its precious contents perished.

A tarnished ring with stones of paste.
My sister’s finest treasure
A suitor's gift, now black with age
Of value without measure.

This box hold moments lost in time
We add things when we’re able
A memory from everyone
Who’s sat around this table.

Copyright © Karen Neary | Year Posted 2007

Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

A Golf lesson

Over fifty years have passed,
Tho’ it seems like just the other day;
My father gave me golf clubs,
“It’s a game you need to learn to play.”

He said, “It’s very difficult, but so is life.
There’s more to learn than grip and swing and rules,
Like honesty and dealing with adversity;
Then, pointing to his head, “… and how to use ALL your tools.

Play the Course… and Mother Nature…
Focus on just one shot at a time;
Try to learn from each of your mistakes;
Then, do your best to leave them behind.

These clubs will teach you more
Than our ‘man to man’ talks.
This you'll learn for yourself,
So you can “walk the walk.”

“Practice makes better, but not perfect.
And always remember what they say:
‘”Golf is not a game that we can win.
It’s just a game we play.’”

His lessons served me very well,
Took them to heart and play the game.
And life is much like a round of golf.
Despite the bad shots, I’m always glad I came.





 








Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic | |

DREAMS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY

DREAMS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY Leaves falling during autumns years they bless my ribbon memories of how it was childhood shadows brown like withered grass for now am old and soon shall breathe my last.. I sit quiet to travel on bygone days, on the streets before, I have ropes to play blend of dolls and bubbles also made me gay but the child in me still yearns to pass these ways. From curves of mountains to nations across the sea, to journey more, I ask God to direct where I'll be... I passed a plant its leaves swaying with the breeze, years fold, the same plant is now a fruit-bearing tree. I view the puffy-feathered skies and its blue, I smile each breaking dawn for it's silvery new. I tackle each task fast and through but before I knew, hours gone and done, I finished some-- I missed a few. When evenings globes of wordless speech shine allowing me to run, run into garden of dreams, of childhood once supreme but they shoot away in flutter flash on life's fluctuating stream. I hugged my knees to stop my tears a while remembering decades when my body is still a child. I keep the tears to my chest as I go by, if only, good times replay... I want them again. Each bulging grin that rise unto east horizon, Each satellite, modelling slow on her turning points in stellar of green, and her clouds of powder white, I quench my thirst drinking the beaming tides. Down earth, I linger to verdure adorned of rosy blush even from the arch where the gentle winds is seen to dwarf liquid curls that roll near the shore, I dreamt yesterday and still am dreaming today... Twenty years ago, blooms and fruits hang on vines so fragrant, so fragrant were those days of mine Now no more; their traces I could not find; Today, I need to make more golden memories etched to time as later, I'll be leaving them behind And if someday, one wanders in my lifes forest despite blowing winds and thunderstorms, like the tiny plant, may I be that fruit-bearing tree. ___________________________________________________________ Open Poetry Contest - Poetry Contest Sponsor Charlotte Puddifoot ~~~3rd place~~~ OLIVE ELOISA GUILLERMO 9:15 pm, July 11, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

A Reflection Upon A Long Life Lived

A Reflection Upon A Long Life Lived




So many things in my life have come and gone
   idle days of fishing and resting in shade
Early morn sight of mother deer and newborn fawn
   so many of the sweet , dear friends made

Holidays with grandparents singing happy tunes
   picnics lakeside in grove of red oak trees
Birthday parties cakes , ice cream and balloons
   disappearing ships sailing upon unknown seas

Loves, far too many in my wild younger days
   beautiful girls waiting for a kiss
So awesomely pretty in their hot sexy ways
   so many more did I foolishly miss

Life flowed on like a flooded raging river
   me with a ship and no winded sails
Too often selfish taker instead of loving giver
   driving hammer without the much needed nails!

Robert L.  05-24-2014

Truth in the telling. A wild life, mistakes galore , escapades on far too many shores!

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

I've Scribbled This Song For You



I've Scribbled This Song For You...


I'm wasting my days,
my empty nights too,

I should have held on,
but I simply lost you,

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

yes, I should have kept,
you close to my skin,

soaking your warmth,
but you were laughing,

at my foolish grin...


now I'm all broken,
and torn apart,

but what the hell,
I was always late,
for the tolling of the bell,

and now...

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

so kiss me now like you once did,
I'm tired of being so carefully hid,


la laa laa la laa laa laa...


(repeat to fade)


:-)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Beautiful Reverie

Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing 
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when 
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths 
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile 
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms 
And for a moment I'm lost 
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love 
And there you are - holding it 
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then - 
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | Villanelle | |

When I Ruled the World

I remember when I held the world in these hands
Nothing out of reach as I self proclaimed my power
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Yes I lived in a world of deadlines and demands
  A master of time, always early at least half an hour
I remember when I held the world in these hands

Always alert sensing my victory before my stand
Any obstacle or objection I would quickly devour
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Is there anything left of that person, maybe a strand
It’s not from any fear, but indifference that I cower
I remember when I held the world in these hands

For this tragic change I could have never planned
Everything that tasted so sweet is now bitter and sour
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Almost six years later, I still cannot understand
In the late hours of night, I’m left to now scour
I remember when I held the world in these hands
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand



Penned by Wayland Bunch II 12/14/2013 for With These Hands contest
I used image #6 for this poem

Copyright © wayland bunch | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Rebirth

Ignite,
The missing light,
Forget,
What's behind.
Just believe,
That love comes again...

'Cause,
The skies,
Are like a hard glide,
In a shining rainbow's light...

All dreams and fantasies,
Can be reality,
'Cause fantasy,
Is based on reality...
But all histories aren't the same...

'Cause,
Sometimes, we dive,
In our lives...

So,
Don't judge,
For what you see,
Judge,
For what it is...,
'Cause time passes,
But, memories remain...

And,
Listen,
To your heart,
'Cause,
The body, does,
The mind, thinks,
And, the heart, feels...,
While, the soul, lives...

So,
Always remember,
To remember the past,
To live the present,
And to wait and pursue the future...

Listen to your heart,
Before you are telling goodbye,
'Cause destiny,
Might lead to demise...,
But, remember that destiny can be changed...

Life is unpredictable,
But space and time,
Could be controlled...
And even if some die,
We may survive...

Remember,
That life,
Might have an endless beginning...

All that remains,
Is to be reborn...

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry | |

An old man's crumbles

An old man's crumbles........ I am an old man and no matter I say or do. But still I am living with my stubbornness heart I have complications with health history and hospitals always welcome me Sometime, my heart beats so hard and my veins are twisting me mad But still I manage to do my work on my own My walking stick is great support for me If not, I would not able to stand on the road Sleep brings me nightmares with forecast scenarios but when I wake up in the morning I feel nothing but freezing body and feet My memory is failing and my soul is falling My head is turning and my life is shortening How do I spent my youthful life all these days? Well, nothing much to tell about it because I am not married either. I really love to recollect my good old days but my memory of tears kept them away Youth become major and old become gold. So they say But sometimes I wonder where do I find my way around Before I go to bed, I keep my ears in the drawer, my teeth in a glass of water and my both eyes on the side table When my sleep overtakes me, I don't hear anything, my teeth don't feel cold and I don't see anything either I get up each morning and reset my bones from my sleepy body Later I pick up the news paper to read world news and sad news these days If my name is missing in the obituary column, thanks God I am not dead So I continue to do my work as usual till the day ends. Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka Copyright @Sept,2010 Ravi Sathasivam

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

My Treasure Chest

I have a wooden cedar box
Filled with precious things
Most of no value to you
But joy to me it brings

A copper penny, 1961
The year I was given life
A withered old white rose
From the day I became a wife

Two certified legal documents
That tell me that I am free
A US birth certificate
And a final divorce decree

Golden locks, adorned with ribbon
Clipped from the head of my son
A bag filled with tiny teeth
Exchanged for a dollar one by one

A report card, five A’s  and one B
My sons first year at school
A tattered silken blanket
Still covered with infant drool

A book of poems that I had written
While I was a rebellious teen
Fifty plus love letters
From then, now and in-between

Old yellowed photographs
Of family long since gone
A dozen crayon pictures
That both my kids have drawn

Hospital anklets, pink and blue
That both my children wore
A stupid keep out sign
That I used to hang on my door

Each item within this box
Is a memory that I hold dear
I keep them for a distant time
When my memory won’t be so clear

So if you wish to see inside
To you I have one request
Do not call it just a box
‘Cause to me it’s a “TREASURE CHEST”
 

Copyright © Dawn Drickman | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Tumbleweeds


Memories tumble through my mind, 
rolling aimless, some have been...
missing for a while.
I try to fill in the blanks. Others, 
I sweep into already dusty corners.
You know, the ones far easier forgotten.
Tumbleweeds...my memories
have become tumbleweeds.
I take snapshots of the cherished ones, 
file them away
giving them a home...
before they blow away in the savage wind.
I yell out to my own echoing voice -
"Did I tell you my mom liked to dance?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear her music, rock-and-roll,
her long hair bouncing with each step.
She doesn't dance anymore...
I see my step-father, hands dirty, working
always working, but sometimes
stopping to joke or tease. 
Moments gone...memories fleeting...
begging them to stay
a little longer or at least 
visit my dreams.
"Did I tell you my dad played drums?"
"Yes", I remember. 
I hear rat-a-tat-tat in my head, 
primal beats, rhythmic beats -
complex man, gentle soul...
I would sing at the top of my lungs while he played.
He never seemed to mind my shrill, little girl voice.
I miss him, I miss his drums. Music is not the same.
Nothing the same.
I close my eyes and another memory
blows through empty spaces.
My brother is racing his bike down the street FAST.
He is about ten, all skinny legs in his shorts.
"Where are you going?" I call after him, too late.
"Don't go, please don't go!"
He is gone and I wonder if he was ever here, there, 
anywhere within my reach.
Some do go astray, I remind myself.
Missing memories...missing love - 
loneliness finding a home in my heart 
when least expected...
"Wait, come back", I yell to him. "I'm still here."
Ruminating, I ask myself if we ever know,
really know, the ones we love.
No, not really. I remember.
Frantic, I reach for the tumbleweeds, grasping.
I reach for my two earthly fathers who are long gone...
I see them, each so different yet loved. Then, 
they blow away, missing again.
I chase them futilely. The savage wind still blows,
across grains of desert sand...
I will never know why, never know. 
Tumbleweeds...my memories have become 
tumbleweeds
blowing in a savage wind.


* one of my favorite early poems (maybe it doesn't seem happy, but
it includes some of my favorite memories)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

March 2, 2012
Second Place in Chris Aechtner's Let the Masks Fall Contest



Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Sat and Pondered

I sat and pondered the things I’d like to forget.
There have been some bad times -
Lost love, both romantic and familial,
betrayals by a few I considered close friends,
and the inevitable hardships of simply living life
including its numerous moments of sheer embarrassment.
I contemplated which of those many examples of life’s trials
I would choose to completely forget. . . 

Then I thought of my step dad, who passed away -
and not so quietly - those several years ago,
his mind stripped bare of any reasonable thought,
and all his recollections, whether good or bad,
reduced to the fleeting images of childhood’s ghosts.
At the very end, was there even a glimmer for him
of the recognition of anything at all?

I was not there at his bedside, but my mother related to me
the wild fear in his eyes 
as he choked for breath while clinging to life
despite his apparent inability to even grasp
one memory that would give him a reason to survive!
Everything reduced to the blind biological instinct
simply to breathe. . .
All who were there at the end with him
were praying for him just to pass
quietly into the night.

With all memory ripped cruelly away
and still  he fought to live. . . 
So how could I ever declare wanting to forget even an iota
of anything at all in my entire life?


Written 1/18/13 for Frank's Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Winter Memory

Snowflakes fell, large and wet, 
On that early morning in December
Our country home was soon enfolded
In winter's cold, white mantle

The noonday sun parted the somber clouds
With rays smiling and bright
It seemed to be saying...
"That's enough snow...for now"

Mother walked along the silent path
To where the mail was waiting
She paused for a moment and smiled
The untouched landscape, glittering white before her
Awoke the child within her heart

She began to play
Soon the beginnings of a snowman
Rested at her feet

My father watched the scene unfold
Through the bedroom window
His eyes glittered as brightly as the snow
A smile creased his face
And a chuckle escaped his lips

This picture is etched forever
In the corners of my heart
Forever I will see her there playing in the snow
Forever I will see him broadly smiling at her delight 
Forever I will see them both so completely full of joy
So full of life
So full of love.

Copyright © Steven Mossburg | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

A Wish In My Heart

If I had only known that day would be our last,
I'd sit & stay awhile longer to learn about your past.
Questions about when you were young,
About sights you've seen & things you've done.
Tell me of the path you took,
Your first love, your favorite book.
About how you & Grandpa met,
Or times in life that you regret.
Many things you've seen come & go.
There's so much more I'd like to know.
How it was the day you wed?
The first words your children said.
The first Boston Terrier in your life.
The days your sons each took a wife.
Share with me, your first car,
& what your favorite colors are.
So much I still wanted to know,
I thought we still had time to go.
When that day draws to it's close
It's your smile I'll miss the most.
A longer hug I'd give to you.
As you say I love you too.
Followed by, come back & see me.
Until that day it's in my heart you'll be.

Copyright © Aimee Rodriguez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

THE REBEL

The Hollywood hills still echoes with his 
Rebellious yell, we are the forever young
Generation.
An iconic American symbol, to this the lost
Age of innocence.
Nay did this rebel die without a cause,
I think not, in my humble opinion, he
Died for his desire for speeds acceleration,
In death's ironic twist of fate, James Dean's
Name became immortalized as an epic tragedy,
Of youthful hearts seeking to be wild and free,
Without any consequences.
A teen idol who went out in a blaze of glory, 
Revving His engine hell bound for destiny's,
Rock-n-roll Hall of Fame.
A nation wept in despair mourning for the
Loss of one so young and full of life.
Sorrows children cried in disbelief laying roses,
At his final resting place.
The jukeboxes remained silent with respects,
Reverence, and bikers gave him a rebel send off.
A generation whom believed they were bullet proof,
Realized how human life could be extinguished, 
Within the flash point of on coming head lights.
James Dean's ashes were swept away swallowed,
Whole by time itself.
Now he's nothing but a tarnished star in histories,
Memorabilia case on display for all to see,
And remember, this the first easy rider. 
JFK dream vision illusion of Camelot has faded to gray,
And Elvis now sings in a more heavenly chorus,
In the great beyond.
But before these man took the center stage, another
Walked the thin line of immortality's rebel fighting,
For a cause.
One lone figure rides into the night across freedoms,
Highway, and his name was James Dean.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN






Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.

Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet | |

I Remember Fierce Storm That Blew My Life Apart

I Remember Fierce Storm That Blew My Life Apart

I remember fierce storm that blew my life away.
Images burned into a sad, finely tortured mind;
reminds me of that epic and dark fateful day,
tears falling down but no good answers could I find.

So in love with my sweetheart but soon hope gave way,
when drug induced Nirvana flew into our home.
Easy now to see it in slow motion replay,
when I groped in darkness wherever I dared roam.

Raging clouds gathered within the uncertain West
as thunder spilled over into each haunting hour.
No joy in simply knowing that I did my best,
while I saw the destruction of my wild flower!

I remember fierce storm that blew my life apart.
Its massive crushing winds destroyed my aching heart.

Robert J. Lindley, 1-11-2016

Form- Sonnet, I used 12 syllables instead of ten.

Syllables Per Line:	
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables:	168
Total # Lines:	17  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	 
Total # Words:	124

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Somewhere in Between

The day begins and then it ends
But somewhere in between
Is where the memories are made
From breaks in the routine.

It needn’t be a far-off trip
To some exotic place;
Perhaps a quiet respite from
Life’s often frenzied pace…

Or just a sunny afternoon
Of backyard fun and frolic.
(A city playground works as well – 
It needn’t be bucolic.)

A once-a-lifetime happening’s
A rare and special treat,
But simple days we’ll recollect
Make life feel more complete.

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

in memory of a rose

your velvety blossoms
slowly withers away
once tender roots
have now decayed
at the thought i cringe
such insidious disease
gradually infects
each and every leaf

moldy black spots
crinkled stained edges
your magnificent growth
gradually suppresses
your unsurpassed beauty 
now fuzzed up and gray
crinkled debilated stems
a dull distorted array

shoots barely opened
leaves now curled and bent
such unforgettable moment
your petals soon descend
your spicy scent has drifted
such sickly brittle vein
Flowers now discolored
and left to thrive on pain

after months of nurturing
your once marvelous display
the thought of you slowly wilting
has left me in dismay



*My theme is taken from Constance's Poem "in Memory of a rose"*

Copyright © Rashana King | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Separation

I stare through the rear window as 
the car begins to move away  
With tears running the gamut of my 
Face my body trembling and wet with 
Sweat 
I choke with anger as the contempt
For this separation grows deep
I wail and I wail 
It is then that the memory of her tear
Filled puffy red eyes as she is cloaked
In a moment of sadness
Is imprinted on me 
And I became a broken child
On a journey to a world that seemed
To be without conscience
For no longer could I be her 
Protector and me the center of her 
Attention 
As the weeks turn to years the years 
To decades
A bitter emptiness haunts me
For when I search my memory  
Nowhere do I find ever saying  
The goodbye word 
To my little sister 
And I cry 



Earl S. Jackson
Mar 1996


Copyright © 2010 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved

Copyright © Earl Jackson | Year Posted 2006

Details | Blank verse | |

On Nature's Stance

The fig tree remembers,

the countless flowers reaching beyond the iron fence, 
its petals squeezing through for a touch of greater sun,
making them dance as the southern wind deems to prance.

The fig tree remembers,

the dog house at the end of the yard,
the countless faces the green yard welcomed,
fresh, crisp, clothes stretching across the line, beating to the softness of of a southern wind, rushing through the sky. 

The fig tree wishes to forget,

the sound a civilian child made after hearing a charge in the distance,
the ghostly night its keepers struggled to run to shelter, all the while 
thinking they will be back much quicker.

The fig tree wishes to forget,

the loudness of army planes flaring by in the sky,
the faces of agressors as they stormed the house,
leaving only traces of their footsteps, as a house that stood for decades
was just reduced to a sea of flames.

Twenty years later, this fig tree still lands,
surrounded by the soaring, overgrown grass,
feeling the absence of her owner’s caring hands.

The fig tree still struggles to forget the night it all changed,
when her owners were coerced to leave her,
the night when she became the only existent life there.

Copyright © Jovana Pokrajac | Year Posted 2015