Memoirs

Recognize the value of heartache

Forgotten memories

No longer leave scars

Just as a dead ember

No longer chars

 

Forgotten memories

All pictures gone

The mind a blank canvas

Where nothing is drawn

 

Forgotten memories

No lyric, no songs

No recollections

Of loves or done-wrongs

 

Forgotten memories

All colors now grays

Moving through life

With unfocused gaze

 

Forgotten memories

No scent recollection

Can’t smell the roses

On this path, vague direction

 

Forgotten memories

Sense of touch gone numb

Can’t tell silk from sandpaper

Just an unsettling hum…

 

So…..

 

As you moan and you weep

Wailing, fists raised to the sky

Take this pain!  It’s too much!

Please!  Just want to die!

 

Memories not forgotten

Bear witness to life

No memory is all darkness

Even one heavy with strife

 

Memories not forgotten

All senses complete

Even funerals have flowers

Bright colors scented sweet

 

Memories not forgotten

Evidenced by scars

Both within and without

They write our memoirs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Have no idea where this came from...

Reviews

[Gejodi]

I like to call it 'the baggage we carry.....where ever it came from it is good...Moving through life With unfocused gaze great line

[R.E. Ray]

Wow! Intense. What a mind journey in a few brief words. Nice work, Carol!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Wonderful thing when poems simply “”arrive”...usually those are ones that come from the heart and are the best ones! Lovely form, flow, cadence, imagery, metaphor, repetition, rhyme and contemplative theme. Great style and impact dividing the poem into two moods- first verse musing and second verse moving us. Yes, Our memories are our scars and also our stories, our rites of passage. Beautifully written! Love this Carol.

[Debbie Barry]

This is truly wonderful! While reading the first half, I was reminded of my father, in the final stage of Alzheimer's. His memories are mostly gone, and the few that remain seem to be faded and garbled. Your words expressed that so eloquently.

Then I reched the second half, and I felt color, sound, and smells overwhelm the patinas of gray the first half had laid over my imagination. I was reminded of a conversation I had recently, about not hiding scars, because, rather than disfiguring the body, they write a story on it. A person with no scars, inside or out, has missed out on living, somehow. Not all scars are bad; two of mine record stories of my sons' births. Others tell of saving my life.

Your rhythm is pleasantly lyrical, carrying the poem forward. Your rhymes are cunningly wrought. Your imagery is delightful. I'm impressed!

[Jimmy Yetts]

Scarring is just your psyche's way of noting, this one has particular meaning.
An excellent piece of work!

[Dr. YumnaKay]

'even funerals have flowers'
great line, I think. The last two stanzas were what felt the most powerful to me. Memories leave scars and so much more... Nicely penned, my friend :)

[Carol Cashes]

First post in a while and slammed this out this morning...feels like a "Polar Bear" swim!

I appreciate your reading and I'm glad someone found "power" in this...I worried the subject matter might not be amenable to the staccato/bullet style poem...so, thank you.