Long Memory loss Poems
Long Memory loss Poems. Below are the most popular long Memory loss by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Memory loss poems by poem length and keyword.
After the storm, my brother
(all gangly knees and elbows)
bore the brunt of its ferocious aftermath.
Every day after school
I watched his wiry biceps bulge a little
as his handsaw scritched against the tree
which had fallen diagonally across our front yard.
I witnessed the violence of metal on wood,
the violence of The King of the Mountain’s smirk
as he too watched, his greedy eyes
taking in my brother’s razor sharp collar bone,
with jaw set in furious concentration.
This imposed punishment was meant to goad my brother,
meant to tempt him to rage
so that the next time the stepdad slugged him
he would feel justified, holy even.
Kneeling on scratchy couch to watch
I scrunched my shoulders,
Folding into myself like an accordion,
gathering myself up to make of me something smaller;
I pressed my knees together
wrapping my arms around them
and lowered my head,
waiting for the sky to rain trees
with swollen trunks, and branches thrust downward
as if warding off a sickening impact with earth.
My brother, it seems,
must be punished for the crime of
his existence;
for this the stepdad’s eyes shone bright,
bright as the heavy duty flashlights
he begrudgingly loaned my brother
so he could work far into the night.
His eyes fairly burned with lust—
The lust of sadism’s glee.
I saw him lick his lips;
You’d have thought he’d conjured up this
Columbus Day Storm all by himself
for the sole purpose
of proving to my brother
that he had no right
to co-exist with him in the same universe.
I watched until my eyes burned
and my head ached dully
and my brother, sweating and chilled,
laid down his saw
swiped his arm across his forehead,
and straightening up, met my wary gaze
with the scoured look
of shame whittled down into hatred,
sawn away into stumpy pieces like an old tree trunk.
After the storm my brother cleaned up nature’s wrath.
He stood a little taller and his eyes, when they met his abuser’s,
burned unflinching.
After the storm we feigned memory loss
Pretended that nothing had shifted in our family dynamic.
We sat down to meals silent and repressed and picked up our forks
as if the stepdad hadn’t just won a major battle,
as if my brother’s days in that household were not numbered.
'Bee' put on a bar-be-que for bringing up the past,
and of course he added drinking. Now the die was caste
for stories bringing laughter from dubious glory days,
when our oats were being sown while living single ways.
Naturally it wasn't long before the 'art of studery' had died,
and leaving all the juicy stamina that our minds provide
for the love of every man’s desire that lasts until the brain,
dissolves into memory loss and cars are not thought of again.
Ah! Those Holdens flashing FJ and the Fords called 'Customline',
that prowled the streets for 'pick ups' who gave a 'come on' sign,
brought back the memories to all that only 'Hilly' could correct,
when mentioning the better Ford - was his beloved Prefect!
But did that bring on laughter and a scowl on 'Hilly's dial,
who set an argument in motion amid comparison and style.
"Customlines" 'Hilly' said "Might lure girls with the V8,
but guzzling 'carby's' kept you broke and always on the slate".
"Hilly's' right" 'Bee' mentioned, and then he added reasons why.
Of course owners of the 'kingmobiles' sed "Yeah nice try!"
But 'Bee' wouldn't let old 'Hilly' down, saying "It was just by chance,
that I realized a Prefect's perfect when we went to a dance".
"And as it happened two sisters were at the dance this night,
and 'Hilly' with his silken style had set their hearts alight.
The rotten 'bugger' took advantage by herding them up there,
and mentioning his stamina would satisfy the pair".
"When they seen his Prefect it's enough to make them swoon.
Of course they let him take them home. But they lived near the ‘moon!’
And if 'Hilly' owned a 'Customline' he would have been a fool,
'cause halfway home he would have found, he'd run out of fuel".
"Later 'Hilly' then convinced me of the Prefect's fuel consumption.
They mustn't cost a thing to run. If I believe in his assumption.
'Hilly' said he'd drove a hundred miles, but I think that he's bluffing!
Because he tried to tell me - he'd driven all that way for 'nuffing".
I saw her sitting alone at the table
Forlorn, and not expecting any company
Up to her I quickly walked and greeted her
With a gentle hug and tender kiss on the cheek
Momentarily her eyes lit up with fleeting recognition
Then just like that,she turned away
Recognition gone again but I refused to
Give up and so I took her gnarled hand in mine
Kissed it softly,leaned in closely and said"Hi Mom"
For a moment tears welled up in her eyes and she thanked me
"For what?" I asked and she said quietly
"Thanks for calling me Mom" and I said"Well
You are my mom and always will be"and she smiled
At me but then once more turned her head away from me
So I began to sing along to the Christmas music they were playing
I was hoping she would join in but
She merely sneaked sideways peeks at me
Trying with all her might to figure out just who I was
My heart was breaking inside of me but I didn't let her know
At eighty eight I figured she had earned the right of memory loss
Forget all the bad years she had spent
Defending and fending off an alcoholic husband
Protecting her adopted children she loved,from abuse
Pretending to everyone things were fine in our troubled home
As I watched her lovely,dear,wrinkled face,I recalled another time
I was in a class play and she attended alone
My father too drunk to come and watch me perform
As I came off stage there she was,so proud of me I knew
I said"Thanks Mom for coming to watch me in my acting debut"
She told me I'd done a good job and that she was glad to call me daughter
Beaming she said "And thanks for calling me Mom"
"You will always be my mom"I said and then we hugged
Now this was one memory I wished with all my soul that she still had
But I knew that ship had sailed and so I rose to leave and said"Bye Mom"
She looked me over then again said "Thanks for calling me Mom"as my heart did a flip
**for contest "My Parent"
sponsored by Francine Roberts
The daughter suspected there was something wrong…she found it most upsetting…when she began to notice all the little things her mother was forgetting.
And the more she saw her mother falter…her misplaced keys…her lost glasses…her forgotten shoes…The more confusion she saw on her mother’s face…the more and more she knew…
It made her want to throw something…to stomp her feet…to shout…
It was as if a hole had opened in her mother’s mind…and her memories were leaking out.
As she witnessed her mother’s increasing puzzlement…saw more memories fade into a blur…she secretly hoped her mom would never realize exactly what was happening to her.
Until the day she found her mother surrounded by old photos…old family albums too…the day she saw tears streaming down her mothers face…is they day she knew…she knew.
It took a moment for her mom to recognize her…both faces showing their strain…for how does a face reveal its love while trying to conceal its pain?
“So, Momma. What are you doing?” She asked…her worst fears playing out…Surrounded by all these albums…with these old photos strewn about?”
“I don’t quite understand.” Her mom cried. “It’s all just so bizarre…but when I look at some of the people in these photos…I can’t remember who they are.”
And so the daughter sat down with her mother…hoping for one more moment the inevitable to defer…and as they picked up and held each picture…she helped her remember who they were.
Despite doing everything in her power, however, everything she could think to do…the hole in her mother’s mind grew larger…and eventually…all of her memories fell through.
“Do you think Nana knew how much we loved her?” Her own daughter asked the day of her funeral…tears falling from her eyes of blue.
“Love is a feeling…not a memory.” She said hugging her daughter close…
And although Nana might not have shown it…
“She knew…
I’m sure she knew.”
THAT COLORFUL DRUG CONTEST
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
There may have been some pink or red…but mostly loneliness and black…
My head couldn’t tell the difference between right and wrong…good and bad…here or there…Now all I see is the darkness of my death and the regret of my soul. All I could feel was my essence slowly die as the drugs sank lower into my brain.
-Drugs that are unnecessary broke me.
It started off as one fun night….
All it took was one small white pill. A night of false smiles and counterfeit laughs. Waking up in the morning is what sent me to my darkness, so taking one more pill helped my laughs return. My laughs were dishonest. Artificial.
-Drugs that are unnecessary agonized me.
They robbed me of my innocence and stole my purity as my true beauty leaked into the creek by the willows of sorrow. Tiny particles each separated into different poor judgments. With each pill, more torment and with more torment more suffering.
-Drugs that are unnecessary tortured me.
They embezzled my sweet core and threw out all the bright whiteness I carried. My aura was yellow, then it turned grey. With each pill, more anguish and with more anguish more affliction. I soon realized that, “one is too many, and a thousand is never enough.”
How do I feel about drugs?
Simple. They are the hell of hell and the diabolic of the wicked. The inferno of remorse ate me from the inside out and I shall never be the same again. Sure, drugs released me from the inner demons temporarily, but in the end they fed me the devil on a silver platter. I suffered from severe hair loss, insomnia, irrational thinking, impulsive actions that could’ve killed me and memory loss. My life is ruined.
-Drugs that are unnecessary killed me...
Date Written: May 31, 2016
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Had a bad headache last night...
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
I wake up now and the time is bright
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Get dressed, no time for breakfast
I'm needed at investigations by request
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
A girl was killed, in the early a.m's
One thing I hate about this job, is seeing the dead
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Young woman, brunette, in her late 20's
Go through her files and see her profile picture
O god, I know her...she works in the cafe
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Thought she was cute, wanted to ask her out one day
...Guess I'll never get the chance to do so
I always seemed to forget her name
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
My colleagues pull me aside and ask me to answer
My anger is brimming; why am I under question?
They say they new I liked her, and would be here once a week
But that doesn't mean I did this to her: felt like I was on repeat
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
But you must know something, they ask
You were out with her last night
I looked at them as if they were crazy
...No...that isn't right
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
They both turned and sighed and said they had no choice
The bullet matches my gun and my semen's in her voice
We've worked together a long time, beginning to be friends
But this crime you have committed, is going to cost you your end
...NO...THIS CAN'T BE RIGHT; I grab my gun and I hold it tight
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Stop it! they yell, do not hesitate
It is all already to late, just hand us your gun and give us your plate
There's no way, I cry, I look up for a moment and search to the sky
Inching near me, I jolt up my hand, don't get closer!
...O...wait...I do remember...her name was Betty: BANG!!!
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
5
5
5
5
Had bad headache last night...
I wake up now and the time is bright...
My wife and I had planned a camping trip at Doctor’s Creek reserve,
a peaceful place to ease our minds, and a holiday that we deserve
amongst the natural beauty with the Goulburn River flowing past,
and lazing in a deckchair, with now and then a fishing line to caste.
That was our intention, but good intentions sometimes come unstuck,
and thanks to a memory loss, we knew that we were out of luck.
So all the camping plans that we had made, were deferred because a friend
had invited us to her girl’s wedding, and we promised we’d attend.
But this friend of ours; well, we rarely see a lot of her these days,
but it’s just the passages of time that had us going separate ways,
and with the period of absence, had caused, an abnormal shift
after stating to my wife “what shall we offer as a wedding gift?”
My wife pondered for some seconds, and after being deep in thought,
she recalled an inscribed silver tray; a wedding gift that mattered naught,
hidden away inside a cupboard that never saw the light of day,
that should be the ideal wedding gift, and better off out of our way.
But there’s just one little problem here that does need to be addressed.
Our inscription has to be removed, and altered to - from us a guest.
And once this has been done, we’ll attend with one marvellous wedding gift
that looks expensive to the eye, for shining silver gives a lift.
To a silversmith we took the tray to get our monogram removed
and rewritten with the wedded couple’s names, that we have approved,
but the silversmith just shook his head and in a sordid voice he chimes;
“I’m sorry folks, this sort of thing - can only be done so many times.”
Memory, oh sweet memory,
Lost in dizziness, but found.
Excite my brain to joyfulness.
Pain is sometimes lethal.
Memory loss is just one warning sign of this war.
Add to that: headaches, depression, oh, the mental pain.
Numbness, insomnia, heart palpations, and more, begin slowly.
From whence comes your sweet deception?
My bones ache and I cannot breath in life's memory.
Lost in my own fantasy with dizziness.
Imagining a chemical warfare against the masses.
Common folks like you and me but subjugated peons.
Mushy brains found among the young and innocent thin.
Excite my brain with your pondering, my muse.
To you, I owe this mysterious inkling.
A powerful infiltration, a plan concocted by the enemy.
Chemical warfare on the home front, disguised as pleasure.
Marketed among the unsuspecting –
Aspertine is thy name oh great deceiver
In the name of sweetness, mental acuity dies.
Freely given to the soldiers in Desert Storm, diet soda!
The Plan: Conquer a great nation from within.
Infiltrate every aspect of life in a well-laid plan.
Thus, food and drink may lead to a nation's folly.
Slowly slipping away our freedom to be US.
Quietly. Unobtrusively. Ingeniously. Irreversibly!
Joyfulness, visit me; remove this pain for it is great.
Chemical warfare kills.
Sometimes, we close our eyes.
But we must not.
Lest it becomes lethal to our free nation –
© March 17, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Et cetera Free Poetry
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
RELATED LINK: http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2011/11/06/aspartame-
most-dangerous-substance-added-to-food.aspx
Getting Old
Getting old sucks, and it's plain to see
Mother Nature's having fun tormenting me.
Sitting in a chair enjoying a snack,
I start to get up, and there goes my back.
Sitting on my porch, watching the world go by,
Next thing I know, my blood pressure's high.
As a young man I could eat anything, ah but alas,
Now no matter what I eat I end up with gas.
And doing "the deed" thrice a night was great fun;
But now I'm lucky if it turns out to be one.
In my youth I had a head full of hair,
Now, at my age, my head's almost bare.
I used to love to walk in the rain,
But now, when it's damp I get arthritic pain.
As a lad I could attract any lass in a skirt,
But now, if I try, I'm called a pervert.
As a lad my memory was as bright as a flame,
But now I have trouble remembering my name.
My eyesight, of course, is dwindling as well,
I look in a mirror, and who's there I can't tell.
I have a phone I can use to call all my friends,
But I can't remember their names, it just never ends.
I didn't care about bumps and scrapes as a kid,
But now the old body doesn't heal like it did.
Scrapes seem to take forever to heal,
And aches and pains seem to be all that I feel.
Well, as I said at the start, it's not fun getting old,
But considering the alternative, life's more precious than gold.
So bring on the aches and the pains and the chills,
The memory loss, the reliance on pills;
I may not be as spry as I once was,
And I may need to take the occasional pause;
But by God I'll continue as long as I can,
And in the end I can die a decrepit old man.
I WAS CIRCUMED TO THIS TREATMENT 7 TIMES TO BE EXACT
YOU ARE RIGHT WHEN STATING THE INSUATING FACT
THEY RUIN YOUR TODAY PROMISING BETTER TOMORROW
STILL CONTINUING TO BE STUCK IN MY BIPLOAR SORROW
EXCEPT THE NEW MEMORY LOSS I ENCOUNTER ON A DAILY BASIS
I GUESS SANITY DOESNT INCLUDE A SUSTAINABLE HOMEOSTASIS
I WAS TOLD I BECAME VIOLENT AFTER TREATMENTS THEY PROVIDED
I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED THE ANTI SEIZURAL MEDICATION THAT WAS STILL BEING PROVIDED
HARD TO INDUCE A SEIZURE WHEN MEDICATED TO DO THE OPPOSITE
DOCTOR SAYS TO ME DIRECTLY HE CRANKED THE KNOB TO A POINT HE WASNT COMFORTABLE WITH
SO I SUFFERED HIGHER VOLTAGE SO THEY COULD GIVE ME THEIR CURE
AGAIN I FORGET EVERYTHING AND I STILL FEEL INSECURE
MEMORY LOSS IS THE LEAST OF MY STORIES TO BE TOLD OF ECT
THEY DIDNT CURE ANYTHING THEY SIMPLY ELECTROCUTED ME
I SUFFERED ALL OF THESE TREATMENTS JUST TO RETURN TO A EMPTY HOME
CONTINUING SUICIDAL THOUGHTS THEY LEFT IN MY MIND TO ROAM
SOMEDAY I HOPE TO BE REMEMBERED BECAUSE LIFE HAS ONLY SHOWN ME OVERLOOKED
GUESS I WAS THE ONLY ONE READING THE LIST OF MEDICATIONS IN MY FILE BEFORE THE TEATMENTS WERE BOOKED
THEY SEDATE YOU AND YOU AWAKE TO STUDENTS WATCHING YOU CONVULSE
INSTEAD OF THE MEMORIES I HAVE WISH THEY ERASED MY PULSE
I NOW SURVIVED ANOTHER TRAGIC LIFE EXPERIENCE THAT FUELS MY BIPOLAR RACING MIND
SUICIDE NEVER SEEMED SO DESIRABLE... FUNNY IN THE RESEARCH THAT FACT I DIDNT FIND
SO STUCK HERE DREAMING OF THE BULLET THAT FINALLY ERASES MY PAIN
STILL UNDER THE CLOUD OF ELECTRO CONVULSIVE THERAPY INDUCED RAIN