When it returns
It does not knock
Like the ocean against the shore,
Or waves hitting on a ship,
It returns like a pebble falling,
In the silence is where it lives.
Days long gone
1950’s, 1960’s, 1970’s when this one was a wondering minstrel,
playing his instrument, singing his songs to the holy of holies
whenever the congregations flocked to the altar and prayed,
for connection, for love, prayed to be pleasured and held.
This wondering minstrel was not a savior, just a player
who was only capable of entertaining, not answering prayers.
These days
This wondering minstrel’s instrument is unable to produce
seeds of sound, songs no longer reverberate in the churches,
the churches of the holy of holies as they crumble, turn to dust.
This wondering minstrel, unable to carry a tune, play a note
sadly takes to the podium, faces the ghosts from the past
with a realization that the churches of the holy of holies
were more than a vessel to carry other than desires satisfied.
All these beautiful vessels being of deeper essence than perceived
by this wondering minstrel’s orchestra, producing shallow symphonies.
B. J. “A ” 2
October 4th, 2026,
A strangely solitary child
Allowed to wander around
The working Forge and
The foundry ground
Unaware then
That it couldn’t last
And I was quietly recording
A fast approaching past.
It darted here,
It danced there,
Applying force with
Precision and care.
Here a tap,
There a thump,
Turning that once
Near molten iron lump
Into a shape
Of near precision
Each blow landed
With skill and decision.
Each piece judged
Solely by eye
Before quenching water’s
Acrid hiss bubble and sigh.
Uncle’s old hammer
Would peal and ring
Making his old anvil
Vibrate and sing.
Shires and Hunters shod,
Machinery cleaned and mended
A myriad of essential tasks
To be organised and tended.
When that Old Forge was
Full of movement and creation
With a craft that thrived then died
In a single changing generation.
Preserved for posterity it now stands
There in the old Smithy ground
I wonder if Uncle’s old hammer
Has still been kept around.
After being born,
After learning the word,
And learning to understand.
First there was my mother,
Then my dad,
Then my brothers and sisters.
Each one
Had a say,
As they listened,
As they spoke,
And helped shape my day.
I remember the four brothers.
I remember the five sisters.
Each alive in memory,
And each remembered in death.
Then there was me,
Number nine,
And a sister,
Number ten.
Now one question
Rests within my heart:
The voices have grown quiet,
The years have passed on by,
Yet their names still live within me.
And as I walk the path remaining,
One question follows still:
Will we meet again,
Beyond the reach of time?
In the pale iridescent light of full moon
They'll come in their masses rejoining soon
Families rejoice at a time of remembrance
To ancestors sharing a family resemblance
Returning travellers throughout space and time
The image of which is truly sublime
They come in their masses returning to home
For this is a time to not be alone
A time for reflection, a time to prepare
For a celebration of loved ones who are no longer there
They'll prepare many foods of red, white and green
In honour of ancestral sharers of gene
A respectful acceptance of those who have gone
Encapsulated within the crescent songpyeon
Scents of sandalwood and of pine
Aromatic nostalgias combine
Encouraging spirits to wander the earth
And rejoice in their memories of their own worth
leaf-peeping pastime
longing, watching leaves falling
autumn’s amber change
“Welcome”
a robot effigy of painted aluminium
on its face a vestigial smile
chill, uncharismatic and instant,
voicing through it
like rasping metallic file,
a platinum echo, distant.
Its unmoving countenance
worn like a habit, a shiny mask, ill-fit
the smirk of a smile sewn on,
with crayon drawn on,
it did not move as if to prove
a robotic ability as ventriloquist.
I was transfixed
with words that keenly gnawed:
“You have been thawed.”
I looked around with icy perception,
with roving eye and no movement of limb,
where had I been?
As my body warmed and my limbs gained inflection,
so my mind was pierced with icicles of truth
of a previous existence and a distant youth.
It’s all coming back now,
it had worked somehow:
Cryogenics.
Dusk finds me
Life settles down
The light
It turns from me
Something stirs below
Darken sky
One eye
Ember gaze
No fear
It knows me
Close calm sure
A familiar shape
Dark wings gather around
Home.
One wing guards them all.
Do you remember young love?
It was "Oh What A Night."
We vowed,
"Nothing Gonna Stop Us Now."
The time passed quickly,
as the many days turned into years.
Then there was nothing left to say but,
"If You Leave Don't Look Back,"
says it all.
Sand had banked against the steps, shifted by the wind
The loose screen rattled, answering the wind
Salt welded shut the gate against the wind
Beyond the gate, the old track started to wind
Mother said, “You will find the creek by the east wind.”
I remembered past the paperbarks, the track should wind.
I heard the creek bubbling, or was it just the wind?
Through reeds, I watched the sparkling creek wind
On a low branch, a kingfisher faced the wind
It cracked a harsh warning through the wind
The crayfish hies it
Under the flat, shale rock that
Smells of moss and fish.
He stands fierce; claws akimbo
Ready to fend off a boy.
Winner: 1st Reflection-s on Childhood Day-s, Sara Kendrick (Sponsor), 9/26/26
The farm I loved, my ancient homeplace
A families love, God given grace
Though poor then, now those memories embrace
I learned to be somewhat independent, life embrace
So much to explore on that old homeplace
So lucky to be covered and blessed by God's grace
The whole family worked hard, filled with grace
There was plenty of food, nature I did embrace
That farm will always for me be my homeplace
Homeplace,
Grace
Embrace
Autumn meant cooler days—
picking apples from the trees
or helping pack them
in boxes.
Mostly Granny Smiths:
firm, green apples
made for hot apple pie.
Red Delicious came
with their built-in stand;
Jonathans carried a blush
and a crisp, sweet bite.
I remember seasonal pickers
high on three-legged ladders,
canvas bags strapped
across their shoulders,
paid by the weight
they carried down.
Each apple was turned
and lifted from its branch—
stem intact,
next year’s bud
left safely on the tree.
Above us, Mount Canobolas—
an extinct volcano—
gave the orchard
its rich, dark soil,
roots drawing sweetness
into every apple.
I remember I fell through that wooden floorboard.
I was careless where I stepped, and the weight of my mistake made me fall right through.
I remember the embarrassment I felt... it nearly broke my self-esteem.
I can hear them use their traitorous tongues.
I remember I walked carefully over those wooden floorboards.
I see their eyes glare and hear the whispers of people who judge me for treading so cautiously.
I am wary of what they are saying. ..of what they may think.
I walk confidently around that wooden floor.
I am aware of their judgements and their hateful glares.
I don't care what they think.
I no longer have to tread so carefully.
I can run free.
I remember...
I write to remember...I write to forget
The two lines haven’t intersected yet
I write to remember the nights that remain
Soft echoes of laughter that cut through the rain
I write to forget every shadow and debt
Old stories that linger with quiet regret
I write to remember the nights we once kept
Soft corners of time where the world almost slept
I write to forget every echo and threat
The stories that bruise but haven’t healed yet
I write to remember...I write to forget
A rhythm of holding and losing in silhouette
Remember Categories
Definition | What is Remember in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
commemorate, get, recall, recognize, remind, learn, revoke, retrospect, memorize, extract, treasure, mind, revive, recollect, educe, reminisce, elicit, memorialize, retain, bethink, enshrine, cite, bear in mind, call to mind, conjure up