Four years old and short of breath,
in a tented bed at the end of the ward,
the terror of separation in check only
because Mother had told me she would be
there in the morning, first thing.
But she wasn't, and at last I just wailed
across the receding rows of sick children
and they, like sympathetic strings,
howled back in atonal harmonics.
The bulging matron shouted: "SHUT UP!",
and grumbled loudly about “that brat”.
Later, when Mother arrived,
the matron handed me a toy
with a smile,
that did not reach her eyes.
I still remember events when I was two,
The scent of milk, the color blue—
A pulse beneath my skull that never dies,
Whispers from the Gland of what is true.
Tiny furnace in the darkened brain,
You balance hunger, thirst, and ache,
You dream while wide awake,
You script the joy and orchestrate my pain.
Sunlight touches neural seas,
Old sparks ignite along their veins,
Each synapse hums with coded lines,
Translating warmth to memories quiet.
You are the clock, the flame, the heart—
Where time begins, yet never parts,
This gland that lets the soul recall—
How even at two, I remembered it all.
And the 0.07 volts that runs our brain.
In the earliest of morning light
When birds have not yet taken flight
The sun so low a shadows’ might
Escapes an eagle perfect sight
When the earth in leisured chill
Each valley dank along each hill
And longing stripped of lovers' will
With every dreamer dreaming still
An angel through that black long eve
He holds a trembling hand to grieve
And in the moment make-believe
The rising sun will not deceive
Doorways dim must stand and wait
This tragic timely twist of fate
dec 11, 2024
Early spring flowers live hurried lives upon the forest floors.
As soon as the ground thaws, they peak forth their tiny blooms.
Alongside ponds and running streams purple violets are seen.
White trilliums and bluebells grace the still brown earth.
They only thrive until the canopy thickens with green.
Still some blue breaks through and sun dapples its rays.
It's Mother Nature's will that life keeps springing up,
And repeating itself endlessly.
I remember a warm summer morning
With the sun shining bright in the sky
Its glow making stars out of specks of dust,
Floating in shadows as I walked by
To the kitchen where mum, already at toil
Was busily making fresh fare
The aroma of cakes and newly baked bread,
Permeating through the air
Big brother was at play in the garden,
Baby sister asleep in her pram
As I sat at the large kitchen table
To breakfast on warm toast and jam
When I had finished my delicious repast
I helped clear the dishes away,
Washing them clean in the Belfast sink
The like of which are sought after today
Mum put on my shoes and brushed my hair,
Then I joined big brother for play
And although years have past since I was but three
I remember as though yesterday.
I think I was about two three,
cause I remember sitting on my father's knee.
We were traveling down and old dirt road,
now bear with me as my story will unfold.
Things I saw my do I tought were not true,
he could crawl up a corner and look down on you.
At school he was the feature attraction,
I never really got any of the satisfaction.
He had blocks burst on his chest,
we only knew his act was the best.
When I found out that it was him,
I said no wonder he named me Jim.
I veer off to tell you this true fact,
he put me behind the wheel to see how I act.
As my fathers son I came thru,
not really knowing what to do.
Yet at the speed of eighty,
I held the car steady.
He must hae had great faith in me,
why I can not begin to see.
This memory has stayed in my mind,
and I tremble at the thought every time.
But I found pleasure in the return trip,
cause when we finished he gave me a sip.
Don't get me wrong cause I was scared,
it was overcame by that moment of love we shared.
T.W.I.S.T.
JLM
Buzzing around the sun
Green glistening with skin
As I finger-poke for fun
And bleed open my sin
Brother runs out from the shouts
Pouring peroxide on the prick
While in the mirror I see the doubts
Band-aid wrapping round to stick.
Memory fades from there
As hallways slip into darkness
The mind a wandering hare
The heart the harrowing lightness.
my earliest memory is when I was three
for I tried to run away from home you see
my sisters used to call me names and tease
laugh at me if I fell on my knees
they thought it was funny picking on someone small
but I did not see the funny side at all
but these painful childhood memories I choose not to recall
as if they never happeend at all
I forgive you and I forget
and my birth I do not regret
so it does not matter what they said or did
for back then they were just a kid
God has a purpose for me
His true Love set me free from thee
so I forgive all the things that you do
and may peace always be with you.
inspired by Danielle Whites' my earliest memory contest.
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.