Amnesia Poems - Poems about Amnesia

Memories lost within a frozen mist And dangling in the static atmosphere Of muddled recollection of things dear Haunt the backwoods of the years she has missed. Through foggy glances, blurred thoughts that persist In the dim haze, shapes of the past, appear; These flittering figures, some far, some near, Skitter through her mind, meek and shadow-kissed. But soon they...

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I've forgotten how to love, the sky's pale glow, The drift of stars, the tender pull of evening tides. The world seems veiled, its murmurs soft and slow, As if the heart of time itself had simply died. No trembling song beneath a moonlit glow, No lingering warmth where hands once dared to touch. The years march on, their faces cold...

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I walk within a shadowed hall, Where echoes fade before recall, The walls are bare, the mirrors blind, A labyrinth, a maze in my own mind. Fragments are scattered like broken glass, Like a thousand leaves beneath the sun, I search for truths I cannot find, Each moment lost, each thread unlined. The years slip by, a voiceless tide, They took my past and...

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History books rewritten, pages turned, truths overturned. Past reconstructed. Memories are planted like seeds, carefully cultivated. Reality harvested. Leaders cast long shadows, dark spots conveniently erased. Selective illumination. Monuments rise and fall, stone faces weather time. Legacies carved in flux. Archives are sealed tight, skeletons locked in national closets. Dust settles on truth. Oral traditions whisper voices echo through generations. Unwritten resistance. Media spins its web, catching minds in sticky narratives. Information trapped. Textbooks sanitised, rough edges...

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I, alone, cognizant and coherent Yet frail and new am I Many times the size when first was here Reborn into this unlucky surprise No mother to swaddle with affectionate kiss No father with pride holding me up to the masses Oh, To have earned a place and name among The bone of my bone and blood of my blood Staggering,...

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*** Lunacy Loo Flies *** Beauuty, in a creature from Among the most high; In rythmic song while in her flight Witnessng the realities and fancies Circling the clouds — Proud of her ancient, legendary form, gone lost into that certain dimension of Nature’s Blessed running for all immediacy While she Sprang between the limbs of lush trees, ...

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“The title Hell is for children,” is inspired by Pat Benatar’s song of the same name, it’s about a psychologist’s therapy session with a small child who suffers from dissociative amnesia trigged by childhood trauma. “Hell is for children”. You were my shadow, But now you have gone, ...

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Tech support informed us There is nothing they can do For the signal sent by Sirius Won’t work with Subaru. Not all cars have been affected, Just the Foresters (of course!) And the techies have been working Hard to find the problem’s source. We were told it’s like amnesia, So the radio forgets How to access all the stations And the tech guy had regrets But he...

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I don’t know which is worse amnesia or lobotomy, one you have no control over and the other you can ask to receive One happens from an accident in which you didn’t want to lose your thoughts, and the other is used to rid your mind of monsters within your mind that crawls I used to wish...

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A city without streets… a pain in the memory Like an amputated limb still aching at night A city without people a bane on existence Their shadows to wander —down avenues unnamed (Dreamsleep: September, 2022)...

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Dear 2020! This Poem was Inspired by an Acknowledgment that this Past Year Was Difficult or Tough, That I Don't have All of the Answers, But I Serve a God Who Does. That I Did Have Some Beautiful Experiences in 2020, that Should be Celebrated and Not Over-Looked. But Most Importantly That I Must Learn To...

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Amnesia suffered, our heart yet proffered prayer into space, imbibing God’s grace. With symbols all gone, we’re here now reborn; innate aliveness, one with That oneness. No thoughts interfere, as bliss throbs so spear each pore of our form; divine caress warm. We need no preacher, for God’s our teacher, showing love’s the way, lighting up each day. There’s no this or that, arguments fall flat, for we all are one, children of...

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The memories of her that hurt the most are always good, not bad; they ambush when I'm less engrossed. Recalling happy times we had is guaranteed to change my mood to sad. Her birthday will be very soon and I shall play no part - another year, the same old tune: my smile will not betray my heart is aching that we live apart. So...

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mouthing thoughts offered thinking past memories droughts amnesia forgot 2/17/22...

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Scrub away the remnants of emblazoned colours that have mixed down to mud. Settled in pore. Scraped through every crease. Dead finery clings in layers that have fused over years, bringing me closer to a man I don’t know. Brittle skin. Exposed to morning air. I cut myself open and count the secret rings of my idiocy. If I dress this wound that mimics a smile I...

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