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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

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

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

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, yes-------------- REMINISCING!
Sorry if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying not to forget, who I truly AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be, 
Finally 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 are 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 into 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 just listen, please, 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 right now, the food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' have me wearing.
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns.
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty reddish brown 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 only "ON and OFF" buttons.
Try to understand what I’m going through, my legs never felt this tired before.
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path, 
I lose track of time when navigation issues on my own.

Dear Time, 
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see as before.
Time, please 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

Details | Haiku | |

Detach

Violet tulips
Each petal flips, another
Memory of you

©Drake J. Eszes 

Copyright © Drake Eszes

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

Details | Sonnet | |

Those Glory Days, Long Gone

Those Glory Days, Long Gone


Those glory days resting so far bygone
I trek ahead, sad and so all alone
Treasures left upon lofty mountain tops
Rushing ever foward, no time for stops

Days, we resting under a shading oak
loving in vows that we forever spoke
Coolest mornings, breezing days easing minds
days of joy in all the many new finds

Those views of life sing forever above
crystal dreams set in our undying love
Nights of magic in epic love unbound
blisses in every kiss our wet lips found

Memories of days and nights now alone
holding memories of life so long gone!

Robert J. Lindley, 09-07-2014


Poem Syllable Counter Results

Syllables Per Line:  10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10  
Total # Syllables:  140  
Total # Lines:  17  (Including empty lines)  
Total # Words:  100 

Did it , hit exactly one hundred words + ten syllables
 per line and great rhyme.. A solid sonnet according to 
my own personal standards. Wrote it and had to minor 
correct only three lines..

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Free verse | |

Alzheimer's

In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns 
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul 

As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold

My memory is manufactured 
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been

Confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect 
Empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences

Copyright © John Trainer

Details | Rhyme | |

Memory

This is for you from me I hope you noticed its not that hard to see.
I thought you were perfect for me, but there are things that you are hiding from me.
I felt like I could fly.
But it was only one big lie.
I got a knife and I wonder when will I die.
It's like rain every drop is pain.
I always tell you how I feel.
Never kept no secrets and always kept it real.
I like art and I want to draw you one big heart.
It was beauty and kindness that I would see in front of me.
I cared about you before me, but I also got a crazy story.
Your beauty, your eyes came to me with lies.
Now I am frozen like ice.
Got nowhere to go, nothing to do, but remember that I always loved you.
I still have thoughts about you and the long talks that I had with you.

Copyright © Vadim Tsutsulov

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

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

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


______________________________________________________________________
Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

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

Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia

Copyright © Laura Hamilton

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Ballad | |

Silent House

The house stands mute, broken by years...
Windows stare through jagged glass.
Empty as the eyes of death.
Silent void...echoing joy..patient tears,
reach out in memory each time I pass
the gaping door which has no breath.
 
A rusted lamp-post leans toward Earth...
listening for approaching sound,
to light the darkness once more.
Quiet hush...resounding mirth,
touch my step upon the ground,
and beckon me in, to the shattered house.
 
Crushed boards once held dancing feet...
laughter clings to crumbled stones,
and tears strain the silent rooms.
Scattered remnants of life replete,
lie still as whitened desert bones,
and words spoken...here entombed.
 
I gaze upon torn and tattered walls...
Time pauses, and whispers soft to me
of life blossomed rich in moments gone.
Of a woman whose memory recalls
the beauty of love...and eternity...
mirrored in a rose upon the lawn.
 
House so sad, your youth abounds,
neath fallen grace, and buried sounds.
I hear your song in distant night,
and stand before your silent sight.
 

Copyright © Patricia Langston-Moran

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Free verse | |

Wisps

"Friend,
Mind wandering through misty woods.
You don't understand your purpose.
Friend,
I knew you too little,
Please do not shed your salty emotions,
Not out of anger, not out of sadness.
Friend,
You now lose your way so easily,
You sink, you burst, you burn inwardly.
You weep from frustrations, 
From the guilt of an honest smile,
From pains, that you forget for a moment,
That come swiftly back to haunt you of your loss.
I understand, dear friend.
You once had a light and the woods seek to snuff it out.
Do not fear, dear friend,
Friend follow me, as I once did you.
Friend, now you see?
Yes, you see,
The little wisps in the fog that guide us home."

~In memory of Bill Hamman, and all else who have suffered the pains of Alzheimer's

Copyright © Lauren Johnson