I'm just living a life of an one-eyed AuDHD dude,
Always repeating the cycle every single day
As folks think I'm acting like a robot,
And always having an undisciplined heart.
They say it's not always seen from the outside,
With history and video games is all I think of
Yet they see me as a young Sheldon,
Thinking being smart is a big blessing.
But I still look like a nerd
As if they see me as a nobody,
I'm still a spud in my eyes
As I'm too different for anything.
Some problems
Cannot be solved with money
Do not have a clear cause
Do not hide behind words
Some problems
Appear out of nowhere
They live right where we do
Like furniture or crockery
On the table or in the sideboard
Or like the view from the window
On a clear day, or at dawn
When winter sets in
Summer days will be frozen
In the photo archive of years gone by
Memories will flood back
And there are no problems
Some problems, fortunately
Disappear of their own accord
Without anyone’s involvement
Like snowflakes melting in the air.
My mind a cave of favorite characters
And greatest hits
A life time of connections and sidekicks
Frank Zappa plays the soundtrack
In a tumble of tightly compressed acoustic riffs
A genius long gone, but ever present.
When he’s done he says,
In tightly compressed electronic bytes
“May we burn it all down.”
And I wake refreshed
To another day, another dawn.
(9/17/26)
There are days when my capacity for anguish runs thin
I can’t grok suffering as deeply as once I did,
In those carefree days of work and timelessness
Lacking the necessary sense of direction to ask
Is this place where I find myself truly mine?
I’d gladly rehash now this desultory vision
To fill the desperate need of balance and calmness
But it always occurs too late to be changed.
Who can tell why the autumn brings this anxiety
In a hindsight, what looks like a budget movie, poorly directed
As if I’m passing some young guy
On a shady street, in a lunch hour
In whom I would never recognize myself
With whom I don't have a word to share.
The sun shyly peeked over the hill
as the cold air made whispers audible
and the dissipation began to rise from the dunes.
The morning breeze stirred flurries of sand from dunes
where shadows stubbornly clung to the face of the hill.
A susurrus from the cops barely audible.
Upon the bench in the lee of fickle dunes
the old brass plaque gleamed in rays cresting the hill:
an inscription of grief no longer audible.
Ridged hill of letters, promises audible among dunes.
I wander on a journey that may fail
The compass heading points me to true blue
Late Summer is the time I know so well
Accentuated by my thoughts of you
I wonder as I wander through the maze
What separated us as years sped by?
My love for you displaced by cruel malaise
Still on the journey asking myself why
Acceptance is the price I have to pay
I’ll try my best to take the good with bad
Accepting our relationship’s decay
Your absence from my life makes me so sad
To make the best of life remains the goal
My thoughts of you are balsam for my soul
leaf-peeping pastime panorama
the deeper the colors, the better the view
superior to any artificial diorama
a lovely excuse to spend time with you
wrinkled leaves fallen from trees
stare long enough, you will see faces
my heart of hearts truly believes
each loved one leaves memory traces
Strange, arriving here
The birthplace of thought
All movement ceased
Feeling, nonexistent
How does one live
....I can't be here
how do I leave
Like an abused child
Whose soul has retreated
All humanity encased
In a flat affect
No seeing in, no going out
...just safety
my soul cries to leave
The body continues
To grow into adult form
Without knowledge
Without present consent
Like a plane on auto pilot
...flying high
my soul MUST leave
...Ground Zero
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-16-2026
Misplaced
Not forgotten.
Not lost.
Not gone.
Just misplaced
Blurred between the lines of his memory
A little girl he no longer sees in me
But I will always be with him
And him with me
I am misplaced in his past
A mistake no person could fix
A detail added by God to cherish time
Memories are no longer shared; they're just mine
As he rises to heaven, he will find the pieces falling into place
He’ll feel the sun on his face
He will remember the moments he'd seen but let slip away
And his feeling of misplacement will fade
I do not believe that I, nor anyone who knows him, is forgotten or lost or gone
We were simply misplaced.
And now that he can see clearly from above
He is waiting for each and every one of us
To pull us into a big papa bear hug
His heart full of love.
I am the man who had the feet of clay
All these years later, I feel I must confess
I’m the reason that you couldn’t stay.
Fearful, immature, and selfish to this day,
I loved you truly, but I caused you distress.
I am the man who has the feet of clay.
I was hurt, and I had hurtful things to say,
but the fault was surely mine, no more, no less.
I’m the reason that you couldn’t stay.
That you’ve found love and happiness, I pray.
This, my dear, I can honestly express -
I, the man who has the feet of clay.
I ruminate on all I threw away,
and the life of love that we could not possess.
I’m the reason that you couldn’t stay.
In my heart, I know at last, now old and gray,
why I never saw you in a wedding dress.
I’m the reason that you couldn’t stay.
Yours, with love, the man with feet of clay.
1. The Thing I Never Said
Written: September 15, 2026, for week's Poetry Challenge:
Autumn Memory
The leaves came loose like letters from the trees,
and skittered silver-gold along the lane;
the wind went whispering through russet peas,
then curled its cool refrain around the rain.
I still recall the harvest's amber light,
the scent of apples crushed beneath our feet;
your laughter lingered, low, against the night,
while woodsmoke made the dark seem warm and sweet.
The pumpkins burned like lanterns by the door,
and dusk drew lilac veils across the field;
we spoke of things we had not voiced before,
as if the year itself had paused to yield.
Now autumn comes, and all the old winds start—
the leaves fall, but they cannot take your heart.
The detective steps into the room,
I know the questions that are coming;
No bright lights of intimidation,
yet the anticipation is humming.
We stare at the evidence provided,
trying to pick the story apart,
and put it back together, from the end,
right up until the start.
So detailed statements are being made,
some may even contain the truth,
but the further back, the reasons fade:
it's been a long time since my youth.
The crisp wind flowing through me
tree trunks prepare for a deep hibernation
Autumn’s delights are immortalized in memories
with an unmistakable spectrum of colors
I found myself humming
... while wild rose hips ripen
At Five,the world around seems confusing
The moves are mesmerizing, so amusing.
One knows no lies and smiles
Plays and explores,counting upto miles.
At Fifteen,one is full of energy and zest
One is impulsive,there's no desire for rest.
One dwells in dreams and fantasies
One enjoys the company of friends, like a swarm of bees.
At Thirty,one feels to have a permanent bond
With a person one wants to be and is fond...
One develops a true sense of responsibility
One strives to achieve and gain stability.
At Fifty,one loses all charm and desire
The level of spirituality, goes higher and higher.
One enjoys the company of members in family
Wants to spend the rest of his life,happily...
At Seventy,one likes the company of peers
With them,he shares the memories,smiles with eyes,full of tears...
One often feels connected with the Lord
Feels,the ultimate path,leads to the Almighty...God.
“Remember me, O my God, for good.” — Nehemiah 13:31
May the lantern
of my memory
shine like bright gold
as hope of renewal
sustains me
from late summer
through winter’s end
Memory Categories
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?
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.
Related Poetry Forms
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,