Best Forgetfulness Poems
from "Awaking", by Stephen Spender:
"After night the waking knowledge --
The gravel path searching the Way;
The cobweb crystal on the hedge,
The empty station of the day."
I have begun the process of forgetting
(and of selective remembrance),
apathetic to once-important retention
of what I thought defined me as myself.
The flow of words is slowed and stumbling --
to be sought out, puzzled over.
Eventually, they reveal themselves.
This would have dismayed me once;
but now, not so much.
I sip coffee, read the news, pet the cat
and raise the blind to morning sun,
to mundane life, to rife green,
green grass and over-arching sky.
Lost...
I am dormant on the ground
In a dark alley not to be found.
A board opposite me writ in red,
Lifeless I am, please no tip,
money I have, but my soul
deserted me, thats why I am here.
Useless...
When a passer by stared at me heartless,
how lucky you are old lady, the courage
you have, to just sit daily on that floor,
With blankness in your eyes, deafness
in your ears, motionless you are,
mindless so far, faceless, even tearless,
not one tear to shed over your soulless
to cure it's pain.
Old lady...
Your emptiness and soundless will leave
you homeless.
Why today you specifically want to remain
dreamless.
Your nakedness is seen, your spirit turned
against you dissolved into the running
stream.
Shameless...
Tell me please, look at me?
Why are you here not there?
Why do you stare, its not fair?
Answer me, how long have you
Made this space your home?
Aren't you the one living
In that elderly home?.
Forgetfulness...
Everybody is searching for you
they need to find you harmless.
What shall I tell them?
Your going away never
to comeback and stay?
Dizziness...
Say it, she just shook her head.
Please sing a song while walking back
to where you belong.
I am the passer by remain strong
hold my hand, your lover wants
you back, he still is sustained
on his hospital bed.
He loves you, begs you to comeback
to see you one more time, before
wishing you a goodbye.
She remained homeless,
as nothing will ever
feel the same.
Therese Bacha
7 August 2013
Oh no!! I forgot –
I had a plate of dessert
In the cool freezer
Oh no!! Dad forgot –
He left his blue bowl of fruit
On the clean counter!
Form:
I had this poem
I'd been working on
All about forgetfulness
Then made the mistake
Of setting it down one day
Now I've no idea where it is
I've look out, I've looked in
All the places that I'd been
On this endless search to find
I've looked high, I've looked low
Places I frequently would go
In the hopes of jarring this simple mind
Because this poem if it's found
Might just turn my thoughts around
Though I can't remember why that is
So in this quest I'll continue on
In the search of the poem
That I wrote about forgetfulness
FORGETFULNESS
older folks need circles
of golden rings
so we don’t get excited
for youthful things
my laundry would never
get hung up
if not for a glass of wine
in a buzzing cup
funny how the forest
obscures my mind
from my family tree
i grow deaf and blind
if not for the thundering clouds
and pounding rain
i’d forget my knickers
are paper-clipped to my brain
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Two palm shape a bowl for wound.
My mouth is a big hole of cry
Ruminates in the dark the sorrow
My legs flint-stone-
The hammers of night sparked
The cry from my chest
The sleepers of the graveyard heard it.
This is the hell where heart melted.
I see the dark, cleaves the silence
From ear to ear, like an old warrior,
Grinding the memory, agitating sadness,
Striping a heart of its leaves
The shadow lays his head on the wall.
The ravens are cheerful.
On October the little squirrels come
to trade their love for hazelnuts.
Love warms up the lonely hearts.
Love is crematory of loneliness.
Love is the crematory of my heart.
Two palm shape a bowl for wound.
My heart's stitches itch,
Forgetfulness is the heart drug.
Tomorrow I shall be different.
I shall be good as new
Written by © Fatima Nusairat
Thick, white, penetrating fog;
humidity suspended in space and time.
You go away, and although it fences, you are already distant,
little drops merge with your body.
I don't try to stop you,
because you chose your road;
the fog is my allied one
to approach me to the forgetfulness.
Forgetfulness is not one of my better traits
Never the result of any foregone conclusion,
I could blame it on the narrow-minded fates
Or other faults my mind harbors in profusion.
Of all those ills, none causes me such anxiety
As forgetting a most important appointment,
And I try to make all those occasions a rarity
Since they always produce a disappointment
And, sometimes a missed appointment fee!
Written August 25, 2025
She studied her shoes for ages, laces frayed from her obvious clumsiness
He touched her arm, lightly, as tornadoes settled themselves and memories
fought the weather,
her hair, it seemed, was nappier on Tuesdays, and he tousled her
when she woke up.
"Please" was always spoken too lightly,
she fell inside herself with the familiarity of requests
and apologized for winter's mess,
she shook her head,
her eyes always fell on Tuesdays,
and sighed, for how is tragedy
pretty?
He snapped pictures for their calendars, she pasted them above
dates and message boards on smudged kitchen walls,
she fell in love with the deterioration of paper
and decided hate would fit
him
better,
the stacked boxes above her refrigerator sang out lonliness
and the letters that wrote out their connection
on Friday nights
spoke now of neglect.
She walked through hallways, lit dimly by apple cinnamon scented candles,
and watched her shadow lead her though
silent rooms,
her fingers slid across the cracks that had become the voices of abused dishes
and anger, in January, when Tuesday's sun rose too cold,
when Friday nights made her
shiver
and the sweaters he laid upon her shoulders became threadbare,
for this was neglect
weaved in between with the threads of spoken love.
Day breaks in the middle of thought sometimes, as silence breaks
with breathing,
and there was a reminder at twelve twenty seven a.m.
that he was there and dreaming,
that she was useless, save for the hair that tickled her cheeks when they became rosy
from the wind that stung her alabaster skin on
Friday nights in January
and she tied her shoes, certain that the laces would soak in puddles
of melting ice,
walked through doorways as her shadow followed her
to the portrait of hope where alone wasn't signified
by the beating hearts that forgot to love
on Tuesdays.
When You Look Back, THERE IS THE CROSS!!
How many times over the last 40+ years have I looked back upon my
life, sin, failures and sometimes my successes but not as much as my
failures. BUT GOD!
HE didn’t go to the cross for no reason; HE didn’t suffer the stripes
in vain; but, we have to claim them, put the devil under our feet and
command him to go and command the spirits of infirmity to leave
our bodies in JESUS’ NAME!
I was laying in bed on a Saturday morning and the LORD started
to talk to me! THE CROSS!!! Did it do what HE said it would?
Did HE forgive me or not? Did HE wash all my sins and
failure away or didn’t HE? Didn’t HE throw my sins into the
Sea of Forgetfulness or not?
When I got born again…. Accepted JESUS CHRIST as my LORD
and SAVIOR and committed my life to HIM, HE showed me a
“huge cross” that was like glued to my back! Everywhere I go
it is there!!! As I would look back, all I could see was the CROSS
and CALVARY! That is the way it should look; HE took those sins
and threw them into the Sea of Forgetfulness!
I had allowed myself and the devil to torment me! I had wanted
to be “perfect” for HIM… I didn’t want to hurt HIM by doing any
sin willfully but, I was not and am not perfect yet! In Heaven
I will be perfect, the ole’ sin nature will be gone and I want to
be more and more like HIM but, I might not be now but one
day I will be. For now, my cross is with me, and the devil is under
my feet. HIS love is flooding me and guiding me, I was BORN
AGAIN over 40 years ago and for now, HE and my CROSS
are enough. The devil is defeated and my sin is “GONE” and
HE – GOD is GOOD!! HE is my all in all and HE is my
everything!!!
PRAISE GOD – MAY I NEVER FORGET THIS!
AND, JESUS IS LORD!!!!
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings 2018
To be insane and psychotic that is what I'm being called
The tendencies that I find myself face;
To lose my memories, my personality;
To forget myself,
Only to be reborn time after time again,
With new experiences as they are 'new'
Only to be forgotten again...
I cannot help but to call this a curse...
Despite its treasures of being able to forget
And unable to relive segments of life
Which I found to be
Horrendous,
Devastating...
Painful.
I find myself in debt of also forgetting
Moments of greatness - fond memories
Of gatherings with loved ones,
Friends and family alike...
The long feigned desire of that smile...
No amount of pain
Neither the threshold of human capacity of ignorance
Could equate to such a paradise
Of thoughts, of wonders, of life...
And yet do I find myself in this cursed curse...
To be 'blessed' with this thing at the top,
To be 'blessed' with the ability to think deeply and profoundly,
To be 'blessed' with the inability to sleep,
To be 'blessed' with the immediate misunderstanding with others...
To be 'blessed' with the ability to forget.
How would one preserve one's memories?
Experiences in such a way that he could relive
That very temporal stability at the shut of the eyes,
How could one cope with the loss of such memories?
An unimaginable extremity - they say write;
But it could not possibly amount to any measure of specifications and details
That one endures through the six senses,
The sixth especially, more than any other...
My fear is not of that of a menial thing - to sit there,
Being fearful of not relocating that memory again;
My fear is much, much greater,
It is the one fear that exceeds all others,
Even my fear for my own death,
My fear for God;
It is simply, the fear of oneself,
Myself,
Me...
I.
The fear that comes with the loss of memories,
Which, inevitably leads to the loss of oneself forever,
And to find oneself change forever to a person,
whom may not want to relive that moment again...
I fear him.
Form:
Forgetfulness, Who Me?
Sure I can go to lunch next Tuesday;
Will you call me and remind?
Sure, I'll call you on Monday,
We'll firm up the place and time.
Oh, it's Wednesday, I forgot to call you,
To remind you about yesterday;
Are you angry with me, why didn't YOU call,
Well can we make it on Friday?
No, I'm not mad, I forgot you would call;
Let's both remember to call Thursday night.
Surely we both won't forget;
And all will be just fine and all right.
Oh, it's Thursday night, I said I would call;
Did you remember lunch Friday?
Oops I forgot. I set up lunch with Mary;
Let's try again next Monday.
In a flash, I sit at my desk
Eating a grill cheese sandwich
Potato soup that is from scratch
It all tastes amazingly good
Before I am through, I get up
And check the knob on the stove
It’s turned off, but I need to know
A few moments later, I go to my pills
And take two that I have laying out
From the night before. They are the ones
I take in the morning. I lie two more out
For tonight’s round, then take the bottle
And count them, making sure I took only two
After counting, I find I’ve taken the right dose
I take a shower in the morning
Leave the curling iron on high, leave
It sitting on the sink to wait for me
To do my thing and curl my hair
I turn it off and leave the room
But come back before five minutes pass
Checking the little light and unplug it
I brew my morning coffee and have
A cup, maybe two, before I start for the door
Passing the kitchen where I simply know
I’ve cut the coffee pot off and it’s cooling
But, after making it to the porch, I come back
Inside, go to the kitchen and check the pot
It’s still hot, but the light is switched off
I go to the car and realize I’ve forgotten
My keys and of course, I can’t leave without
These, the very thing to start the cranky thing
I head back inside and realize as I mount
The porch steps, that I have my keys in my hand
And I don’t need to go inside after all, still
I check the front door to be sure I locked it
Vergessen sind die Tage,
nebelleicht
wie Lichter aus der Ferne,
so leicht verschwommen.
Die Zukunft steigt herab
in uns're Zeit,
bedauerlich,
die Tage so veronnen.
Doch schlimmer noch als täglich Leid
in uns schlummernd
die Vergesslichkeit
------------------------------------------
Gone are the days,
as free as fog
like distant lights,
and slightly blurred.
Future is stepping down
from high above
to our present time.
Regrettable the days elapsed.
But even worse than daily suffering
is slumbering in us
forgetfulness
-----------------------------------------
Los días han pasado
con ligero neblina,
como luces de la distancia,
un poco borrosa.
El futuro baja
a nuestro tiempo.
Lamentable,
los días transcurrido.
Pero aún peor que nuestro sufrimiento
cada día
es el olvido dormiendo
en nosotros
Am I so old I cannot remember?
It was on the stairs, sometime in December.
My memory was in such a state,
that I found myself in deep debate
whilst climbing the stairs to fetch something down,
then couldn’t remember. I felt such a clown!
I descended because I forgot,
only I blurt out ‘Oh I remember what
the thing was which I tried to retrieve,’
of course, by then you just wouldn’t believe
(at the top of the stairs, which does make me peeve)
I’d forgotten again - it’s an endless task,
as myself on the stairs, I continue to ask.