Forgotten Poems - Poems about Forgotten

In a world where the symbolic parent has faded like a forgotten dream at dawn, children wander among the shadows of a destroyed literate society, we all stand on the ruins of education, family, and protection buried in time, technology has torn apart the fabric of relationships woven through the ages, the separation from the land has deeply wounded...

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An untold story of black British history Throughout history our voices have been silenced But what happens When they take it further and murder us? What about those who were permanently silenced? How will they speak up about how they were 'welcomed' with violence? But I have a voice and I will speak it The stories Of the forgotten...

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The clock ticks, a hollow sound, time that refuses to heal. Dust motes dance in the slanted light, each a tiny, forgotten sorrow. The news whispers of old wounds, reopened, a symphony of forgotten cries. Children play, their laughter a fragile shield against the encroaching silence. "When yesterdays become devoid of compassion", the present crumbles, a house of cards. The weight of what was, and...

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I no longer walk barefoot through this garden of forgotten time, where the grass, once the silk of summer, now scratches my soles with memories, here, in this enchanted soil, bloomed a flower that stole my soul, an earthbound spell transformed into petals that sang to the touch. Perhaps someone, a faceless traveler, came and stole it away, leaving only...

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like shadows in a slow-turning ...

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It lingers. Not on the lips. Lower. In the fiber of the tongue, in the spasming depths of fear, where words no longer light paths, but only fester in ancestral silences, like icons submerged in sacred rubble, beneath the cracked beams of a church welded shut from within, where even devils can no longer enter. Parting is not spoken. It is torn between teeth, swallowed...

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Strolling along a winding country lane the other day, I came upon a desolate cemetery in abysmal disarray. 'Twas barely visible, hidden among overgrown weeds and brambles; Untended over time, it had fallen into an appalling shambles. I paused at the sagging, rusted gate to gaze upon the forlorn scene; A trampled sign said it was established in eighteen-seventeen. My curiosity...

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Let's put a smile on this tired face, which has long forgotten what it means to be alive and serene, It won't be the first, nor the last, just another borrowed mask in a world that worships illusions, This world feeds on your sorrow, like vultures circling above a wounded heart, And when you dare to smile, even...

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It didn't matter that you cried blood, like dew on the brow of a forgotten world, it didn't matter that you cried tears, like hidden springs in the mountain, it didn't matter that you loved too much, like a sun illuminating the earth, it didn't matter that you loved with all your heart, like a tree stretching its...

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J-oyful E-yes R-emarkably R-emember E-very M-emory Y-our M-ind I-s L-osing, L-etting E-verything R-eappear ©bfa042425 Monocrostic (Birthday of Jerremy A. Miller) ...

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I no longer want to be a child, for those years carry a thick layer of forgotten dust, where every corner hides a room where I learned to forget how to breathe, and memories are like shadows dancing silently on the walls of time. Returning would mean shattering myself on the same silent and cold corners, on the same...

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From obscurity, strangers emerge like shadows of a forgotten dream at the break of day, vanishing like old dangers, whispering stories on the street of dreaming flowers, where each passerby becomes a ghost of light in the twilight hour, some exchanging sweet words, like echoes of bells in the evening breeze. By my porch, a blackbird sings summer symphonies...

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Steel-bound words once carved in stone, Now rust in whispers, dead and alone. The oaths we swore in fire and ash, Lie shattered now—mere ghosts of past. A blade was drawn, a wound was made, Yet scars still whisper, cold and frayed. Beneath the weight of silent screams, The echoes writhe, the soul redeems. Ink turns black beneath the...

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On a night with a full moon, when the wind whispers forgotten stories, I sit by the river that flows endlessly, like my thoughts, And I feel time dissolve, like mist under the gentle rays of morning, I feel the silence become a song of birds lost in the horizon, I feel the grass beneath my feet telling tales...

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What am I if not an abandoned house, a cathedral of forgotten and old dreams, Watching others glow with life, like stars caught in crystal jars, Painted in joy, while I unravel in the silence of dusty time, The floors creak under the steps of memories, shadows dancing on the carpet of nostalgia. They say I am empty, but...

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