Memoirs Poems

Memoirs

    I go back there all the time
        in my mind when awake
        in my dreams when asleep

    They say, ‘You can’t go back’ 
        (so) I lurk

Echo Of The Past

                               Cherished moments of you so dear
                  

Friendship Memoirs

Friendship is like the night star
Even though we are thousands of miles apart, 
We still share the sweet and the bitter.

That pink cloud in the Western sky
Reminds me of my friends abroad
Whose hope keeps burning for family's belly.

Remember them your friend is better
To write the message in pen and paper
Or call them one day for

mosaic memoirs

and we are,
       but dusk-kissed poems,
many moons apart,
      sequined in stygian sorrow ~
while ultraviolet veins 
compose an electrified elegy,
                    for unrequited stars
   struck by 
     

Our Home Within

                                                   A
   

Thrown Memoirs of Soul Mates

The old cypress steadily marks my walk 
where trembling birds roost under misty rain, 
As I pause along a white-stoned port shrouded by tangled album of littered memories:
 Gentle this breath the breeze upon a heaving chest 
While furrowed leaves stoop on this marsh:

Somehow, my hands  threw the folder of memoirs into a bin

Yellow Sand Memoirs

Setting sun desert
Hot skies are blooming colors!
It's orange and red,
with the pink and lilac sprays-
and floating, creamy bouquets.

Blue stars are coming
searching for deep green they missed,
near to crescent moon.
Tall cacti salute the stars
midst swirled, yellow sand memoirs.

The Song Of A Poet

It is a poet who sings
It's a writer who tells
His stories.

It is an author who expresses himself
He is a speaker of the highest esteems
Who review the sad memoirs.

He is a brave man who externalizes himself
It is a poet who analyzes
Actions, fictions and facts.

It's a brother who fights
It's a soldier in the middle of a proxy

If Only I Could for Mothering Sunday

I'd visit you in heaven if I could
With a bouquet of roses, yes I would
Celestial beauty of music I'd play
For you mother on this your special day.

I'd write a poem to your heart from mine
To say I love you, and will for all time
For all that you did with kindness and mirth
To me you were

Forest's Memoirs

On the forest’s edge, colorful blooms thrive,
Startling my spirit, wakening my thirst,
For more than just a glimpse so I’ll survive,
Mystery of pines, laurels so well versed.

Trembling within me, a heartfelt prayer,
Dreaming of fate beyond this quiet path,
Kissing back the dew from soft dawn’s affair,
Seeing the urgency of twilight’s wrath.

While sun breathes out a trail of

Memoirs of a Serial Killer

There's always a whisper of madness, 
playing in my brain as I struggle to get 
loose from it's refrain and the constant 
pounding me to comply makes me feel 
quite insane.

Disaster brewing behind blue eyes
bits of chaos that won't be denied. 
They tell me the choice is completely
mine but they don't see or feel how
I'm

Memoirs of a Ballerina

             
The tempoed, palpitations of my tender, young girl’s heart.
As the velvet, thick stage curtains swished opened and did part.

The pin-drop stillness as we took our graceful, poised posititions.
Dance, of course, our first love and our life’s grand ambition.

Bejewlled heads, so gracefully bowed

Moonwalking Memoirs

I'm

the

white fog

layered on

gold-jasmine face of

the orange moon, shimmering with

shy starships and laced along hailstones of honesty;

When the sapphires of earth are etched with orchestral milky beams, smeared with ominous balms, 

I want you to weave a cherry-crescent with periwinkle dreams and let aqua-pink amulets swing with gossamer threads of lotus-life, 

which shall pull my sempiternal

High School Memoirs

Under the plastic stars that
Led us through adolescence
and I was less than
Heartbroken. 

More like a dove was I
reaching for the sky
with friends no longer
present. 

Transparency with our
Desires and hearts
We made offerings on the 
Shore. 

Into the forest
I retreat now for
Rest and connection
as the pine tree
Saved me.

Memoirs

To write my memoirs I needed enough courage
to allow my heart to bleed its emotions."
                                        

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