The Existence Plan.
The moon and sun are eternal lovers who never get to meet.
Once a century the stars align and he and she can be.
Once an eclipse eclipses the world and all the world turns dark,
The light remains with arms around the darkness,
Faithfully she sends her sparks,
Which become fires that light up the faces,
In endless places, she sends her graces,
That bring the warmth of an eternal sunshine.
The cold moonlight engulfs to shower the earth with why’s?
But even the moon cannot claim sadness.
He’s far too happy to see his Goddess,
And even if it is just for one day,
The memory will never fade.
He will forever see her face is the way to truly love,
So he tells the planet, worship her, for good,
Is all that comes from her very being.
Become all seeing and see what he see’s,
For in her he see’s a reason to be.
The Good, The Bad, The Future, The Past.
A Theory of Everything, The Existence Plan,
To meet again in a thousand years.
For love is eternal.
It is foretold.
The Moon and Sun are destined to be.
(C)2025 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Palace halls hide thoughts
location clues glimmer bright
words echo when passed
images and places bound
anchor what the mind lets slip
Marble cracks hold screams
floors reek with forgotten tears
keys corrode to rust—
is this palace yours to keep
or the maze you cannot leave
As sun rises
I hear your voice
Playfully waking me up
To start our day together
Filled with adventures.
We go down the road
Teasing the shopkeeper,
Running back, dogs chasing
Breathless laughter in the air.
We had many people
Around us, but
Having each other's presence
Was more than anything
This world could offer
We sowed seeds
Of our friendship
With love and hope
To grow our own garden
But I lost the trace.
It's been 10 years,
Still drowning in our time
And I've been wondering
What type of garden
Would it be now
Would it have grown like
A garden of
Long-lasting roots
Or a garden of
Forgotten threads?
If you'd ask
If I still remember you,
I'd say
I still hold you
As you never left me.
Somethings never change
Me, losing loved ones
You, losing our memories.
I hope that you still remember
Atleast one seed.
If it ever crosses your mind,
You might wonder, like
It's a Special memory of life
But I miss it, like
It's a Special life of memory.
Written: September 15, 2025, for contest by Brian Strand
*******
A name in the dust,
etched once on a windowpane—
sunlight fades the trace,
but the ache remains intact,
like a song without its tune.
the past may be onerous
a burden that prevents you from living
~ the present is your future
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
the Biltmore Hotel
appears through my car window
by my new office
two workplaces as bookends
to forty years and one life
Surely, we walked together...
But just like shadows,
Some cheap ghost climbs in nightly,
Pondering the same.
Were all our lives rich folktales?
Panic knots tighter,
As I must have lost your face—
The one that was mine.
On your first anniversary tears are shed.
More than memories, we want you home instead.
You're my first and last thoughts every day.
You'll journey on within me.
Your memory will not fade away
As long as I live and breathe.
Like the glow of a fire in the wintertime,
Your love warms this heart of mine.
I close my eyes and I see your smile.
I fold my arms and feel your hug.
I watch your shows and hear your laughter.
I sit in the dark and see your light.
I'll carry your light wherever I go
You're no longer here but I love you so.
When I see something awesome I hear your "Wow!"
And feel your emotions during certain songs.
Though we can't communicate,
Somehow I know the things you'd say.
Thinking back, I still wonder why
We never got to say goodbye.
Even you didn't know yourself
That your time to fly had arrived!
You are cherished and loved by all you knew
And today you unite us in thought.
It's hard to believe you've been gone for a year.
Miss you lots Nana...wish you were still here.
memory joins the dots in time
akin to illusions replayed
within heart resounds bliss beat’s chime
reminding us that we have strayed
Tucked away in one of the dusty corners
of my my deceased mother’s old curio cabinets
sits a somewhat peculiar perfume bottle
among a small collection of other vials
devoid of the fragrances they so long ago retained.
This particular bottle that my gaze has rested on
has the shape of a woman’s lower leg.
What catches the eye
is the golden high heel it rests upon.
Tiny beads of glittery green
adorn its vamp and finishing edge.
I think of my dear mother
dressed for a night out on the town
in her mid-calf sparkly satin gown,
gliding smoothly on heels of gold which enhanced
the elegance of her long, slender legs.
As she paused at the door,
she’d kiss us on the cheek,
departing in a trail
of Chantilly.
The sun rose that September morn, brightly dim.
The moon waned with tears in the shadow of Muhammad.
Stars scarred by footprints, heavy,
as Allah made the descent,
wings seared from the heat of hate,
hitching rides on freedom flights,
Almighty power clothed butchery of innocents.
What idol worship can move the soul to cogitate
that crumbling skyscrapers thrust so deep
would anesthetize a slumbering giant?
Awaken, arise like the billowing dust permeating blue sky,
ascending to heaven with supplication men dare pray
in places children dare not.
Dawn’s chaste early light reconciles blue-crimson white
with the Ancient of Days’ incarnate flow,
cleansing all unrighteousness,
providing hope of our salvation.
Revenge is Mine.
Justice is ours.
Godspeed.
Let’s roll.
Copyright © 2001 by Mickey Grubb
The shelves are cluttered
Stuff I don’t remember putting there
Wondering when we broke up
I don’t know what it is
Where it came from
What it goes with
Like old pick-up trucks
Parked on unkempt lawns
Loaded with forgotten memories
Old calendars mock the present
Sticky notes limit the future
Emoji’s search or meanings
Is life but a wind chime
Cluttered with silent trinkets
Its whisper an unheard sigh
Though nothing changes, nothing stays intact.
Some places I have loved are shrunken, spoiled,
and sights I’ve carried with me are now soiled,
polluted. I’m confronted with the fact.
But Rome’s eternal, even when it’s sacked.
It’s comforting to know that, when I’ve toiled
to keep alive a vision, and recoiled
from ruination, I can yet exact
enormous pleasure from what still remains.
The brooding phantoms which I have to face
are ghosts of my past self. As vigour wanes,
it pains me to recall each trait and trace
of what I was, in catacomb campaigns,
whose faded glory saturates the place.
Look at us catching the sunset together
With some light talk to get us going
Nothing but nature and sheer tranquillity
And a nice glass of chardonnay
If you ask me what the occasion
I'd say we're celebrating life
And we should do it more often
Cause we don't get great sunsets like this
For we are always on the move
At times when you're catching a sunset
I'm out there catching a breath
Cause my day is barely over and I can't get home
That's why I'd want to take this moment all in
To enjoy that sweet fragrance
'Cause the streets can be suffocating
And it's hard to go fast in a crowd
At this moment tomorrow is a distant place
Yesterday is a messy place
Today is pacing by
But presently, memories are all I picture
The PO£T
Come back to the refuge; Lets take a trip inside. No shadow can see you here, the perfect place to hide. Come back to the refuge, the largest space of all. Theres room for all your hopes and dreams, so you can bring them all. Come back to the refuge, there's power you can find; Silence is the kingdom, lost somewhere behind your mind. Come back to the refuge, the great ones wait for you; Through white light to fields of green, and skies the bluest blue; Come back to the refuge, i know its been a while; But time's a lie so please dont sigh, just come back with a smile! Come back to the refuge, do you still know the way? Let go of thinking without any effort, and sit like that all day. Come back to the refuge, put down those heavy bags! The present is a gift, it doesnt matter how its wrapped. Come back to the refuge, the journey is alone; But once your near, youl feel me here; because the refuge is my home... Signed - HIGHER SELF.
Specific Types of Memory Poems
Read wonderful memory poetry on the following sub-topics:
christmas, dad, daughter, death, funeral, in loving, loss of, mom, quilt, son,
and more.
Definition | What is Memory in Poetry?
Poems Related to Memory
thought, remembrance, recollection, mind, consciousness, reflection, mindfulness, recall, awareness, reminiscence, cognizance, recapture, flashback, recognition, retention, retrospection, anamnesis, retentiveness, subconsciousness, memorization, camera eye, dead eye, mind's eye, picture, image, thought, fantasy, reminder, memoir, vision, concept, prompt, hint, memo, cue, suggestion, jog, representation, prod, mnemonic,