Remembers Poems - Poems about Remembers

I have counted her footsteps for thirty-seven years the same path worn into my slope, the same pause at the thorny ridge where she catches her breath and adjusts the weight on her spine. Her daughters used to follow, small shadows learning the art of bending without breaking. Now I watch the granddaughters in school uniforms, walking the...

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The body remembers… What the mind politely forgets. How rain once meant survival How cold once meant fear How being held... Was once the only god that mattered. ...

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The seashore knows, the path I tread. Records my steps, when I have fled. In prints I cast, the post-card shows, The path I tread, the seashore knows. Gulls see my stance, as swells flash past. The post-card shows in prints I cast, As wave surge clears, rushing to dance, As swells flash past, gulls see my stance. Seashells snatch sighs, replaying...

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I am a river, surging, never still, never bound, within walls, I’ve never had, nor cherished, nor craved. You ask me to remember — but where would such memories be forged or stored in liquidity? Plunge your hands within me and all you will find is the glinting surge of present motion, with nothing before or after, nothing upstream nor downstream only the fleeting touch of one instance. My fate...

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You stood like dusk before me, quiet and burning at the edges. I knelt, not to worship — but to listen to the storm beneath your stillness. And later, when you opened like evening — petal by pulse, I came not to take but to taste what you trust. My lips learned your language one slow syllable at a time, your breath catching like candlelight in a room...

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I met ANGIE in a bar where grief drank quiet, where HONKY TONK WOMEN spilled perfume and regret. She moved like WILD HORSES with nowhere left to run— said, “I’m safer UNDER MY THUMB than out in the open.” She kissed like a dare and left like smoke. On RUBY TUESDAY, she vanished into rain, murmuring, “YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT...

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I once loved so fully, I cracked open beneath the weight of someone who now feels like fog. He was real— once. But time, and the soft grind of sorrow, wore the shape of him away. Still, my heart thumps, a decrepit engine, rattling on with broken rhythm— every beat a memory I wish I didn’t still want. I ache to return, knowing the knives that wait. I am a snake coiled against fire, slithering back toward pain with my eyes wide open. Even in this ruin, something stirs— a...

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They don’t ask if I remember. They think I’m just a tree— bark, leaves, and silence. But I do. I remember. Before roads, before fences, before the wooden swing on my lowest branch— I was already here, waiting. Not for anything in particular. Just rooted. Listening. And they came. The boy arrived first. No shoes, knees scraped, eyes wide. He ran in like he owned the field and sat at my base, panting as if...

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Cliché: “Time heals all wounds.” (Irritation: It implies passivity, ignoring the ache, the effort, the mess of healing.) Better Version: Healing is not the passing of time— it is the choosing to keep walking with the limp. Poem They say time heals all wounds, but time does nothing without your hands in the dirt. It just sits there, ticks forward, waits for you to move. Healing is...

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Written: May 20, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Karen Jones Inspired from Prince Song: When Doves Fly ********************** I slipped the mirror mournful cry, Where silhouettes lick the silvery sky. There is no name or voice left to claim— There was just airless...

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This world wasn’t a nicest fit for me But I lived here for awhile I’m a spirit of a tall leafy tree A tree with indefinite lovely smile I provided shade when it was hot A shelter from rains when it poured My meekness was noticed, so I’ve finally got A typical fate to be cut into boards I’ve been carved into a...

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The wind doesn’t howl here-- it warns. Each breath drawn is borrowed from the bones beneath. They told me to fear the shadow, but never the silence that follows. I walk where others knelt, blade dulled, spirit frayed, still searching for the summit that keeps shifting skyward. I do not ask for light-- only the strength to keep walking where ghosts refuse to rest....

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April 28 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on 2Kings 20-22 Key Verse – 2Kings 20:3 I beseech thee, O LORD, remember now how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight... FAITH IN GOD WHO REMEMBERS OUR TRUTHFULNESS God remembers our truthfulness...

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the river forgets each stone it k i s s e s ...

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In the shadow of Newark’s bricks and bones, Where the pavement hums with moans, Where mothers pray with open eyes, And sons are born beneath gray skies— The blood remembers. The land remembers. And still, the chain extends. They paved the streets with redlines and lies, Gave promises in powdered smiles, Then pumped our schools with broken chalk, And silenced dreams when we dared...

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