We are the only species on the planet, so far as we know, to have invented a communal memory stored neither in our genes nor in our brains. The warehouse of this memory is called the library.
quote by Carl Sagan
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lord Earth
My pen aligns you with my mind.
Such a maddening and transcendent art.
Still, I'm aware that all of my miseries.
Only exist within my heart.
For, if I died tomorrow.
The Earth would spin just fine.
And within a few mortal brains.
Lies my memory, still alive.
The Earth, however, won't remember.
Anything about my life.
And within the smoldering crust.
Lies a memory that had died.
A man dies in an avalanche.
Attempting to ascend.
His pride forever thwarted.
The planet wins again.
And though you die in agony.
And though you die in fear.
When you feel mortality fade.
The planet sheds no tears.
Few will certainly weep.
At the news of my demise.
But beneath the vastest landscapes.
Lies a memory left behind.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory (Thy Shall)
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
So delicate it may break.
A memory so lost,
So unwanted it tears apart,
Until it dies,
It shall go back to thy start.
A powerful memory it may be,
Or a memory that shall be overlooked,
Thy one shall let it see,
How thy memory is like a book.
But how powerful thy memory is,
It has to be stronger than a good memory,
A memory that has passion and feeling,
A memory that has greatness and becoming myself, I, and me.
Until that kind of memory is shown,
Thy memory shall be looked upon near and far,
Thy memory shall be kept hidden,
Until it shall be who we are.
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
so delicate it may break.
poem by Alicia Meyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory is the library of the mind.
Francis Fauvel-Gouraud in Phreno-Mnemotechny or The Art of Memory (1845)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Memories
Where do our memories go when we can’t remember?
Do they go down the endless pit of a memory drain,
or have they been misplaced, sidelined, or lost,
or are they somewhere waiting to be found again?
Or do they go into the brains memory shredder
where the less used memories become deleted.
Could eventually all our memories go in there
leaving our memory completely depleted?
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Her Memory
You are abruptly lost
Like a kite
flying on raw threads
Your loss is my memory
Your face hangs in the sky
Against the wind
Oh! your memory!
my words are far away from
The metaphors that could hold on
you to the landscape of my mind
Your memory sings against language
or sounds
You defy my familiar tools
And dimly expose an unknown
familiar to ages
and ages of our species
poem by Bhartendu Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The library of memory
and then in between remarks,
you fall silent, still, the eyes
not far away but rather,
seeing the faraway right here
and those who know you
or who know the feeling of themselves,
know where you are
how describe that place
where a lifetime’s memories are stored,
clean, precise, waiting, neglected, seemingly forgotten?
is it a castle; a linen closet; a box room, that place in the inner mind?
rather, it seems a library, of the books that life writes
and there comes a moment in between remarks
when the present offers nothing, so it seems;
and your mind leaves the assembled company,
walks into that quiet room, its shelves so carefully arranged
by someone unknown to you, a librarian
who knows you better than you know yourself;
I sit down in that green leather armchair, quietly;
but such the power of the memory of you
the pure essence of the memory of memory itself
that I need not reach to take that well-read book down again
but simply glance towards that place; on that shelf; where it rests;
sit, for a minute of eternity; rediscover myself;
then rise; walk, the back erect, dignified;
the stature taller for the memory of whom I am;
turning the smooth handle of the door as it closes, and
beyond all love, the watching;
freedom that makes the whole world live anew
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I live and will die by you
It is my memory of you
That kindles my spirit.
It is the same memory
That swindles my heart.
My head is full with your thought.
My bed is sore from the same thought.
Day by day pain aggravates;
The same way does my plight.
It is my memory of you
That gives me joy.
It is the same memory
That sends me to sorrow.
You throw on me the day and the night.
I enjoy both in different lights.
I cherish you in my memory;
I may perish from the same memory
29.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Open Book's Monologue Part 5: Welcome To The Library!
Welcome to the library! come one come all
Welcome to the library! come with your brethren on this wall
Welcome to the library! come all you books tattered or new
Welcome to the library! come tired and overdue
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're most mundane
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're to endure most pain
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit unwanted
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit haunted
Yes welcome to the library where everyone's just like you
Yes welcome to the library where we're all books too!
Yes welcome to the library where you can take comfort
Yes welcome to the library where In the fact you're no longer unique
Yes welcome to the library You're just pen marks ink
Departing the library? I think not, even if you get out we'll bring you back
Departing the library? Here you rot, but we'll dust you to ease your passing
Departing the library? Don't make me laugh, here you're black and white
Departing the library? Nobody argues on your behalf, look more amassing
Welcome to the library! A place of keeping and safety
Welcome to the library! Take your place you'll like it, just wait and see
Welcome to the library! New books don't mind the old they're disillusioned
Welcome to the library! You've sold your soul... but it's too late for you
so WELCOME
poem by David Knox
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Memory and Oblivion
When all is lost, there is still a memory
From which a new city can be built in a new world.
Those with memory will be wealthy.
Oblivion cures the old wounds, and you must agree,
There is only the past and the future on the path;
When all is lost, there is still a memory.
Memory will save oblivion from a bad reverie;
When the new city is built, it will be an abode,
Bestowed by those with memory to make others wealthy.
Before the temple, in the middle of the city,
Keepers of the fire all abided.
When all is lost, there is still a memory.
Fire will be born from night to be
New light when all knowledge is swallowed
And those with memory will be wealthy.
A new rose will bloom from the dark sea,
A city revived from memory and abroad;
When all is but a memory, there is still memory.
Those with memory will be wealthy.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Valleys Of The Mind
Search the dark channels of your mind
Where anything you seek you shall find.
Hidden feelings and thoughts
that you felt had been erased
Is now in another place.
A picture frame of everything that
you’ve been through- is stored in there too.
Your mind is a library of knowledge
Where everything is stored for future use.
It holds your hopes, your dreams, your ups and downs
This is where it’ll all be found.
Loves you’ve lost, and loves you’ve gained
No two are ever the same.
Take a ride through your mind
Of different places and different times.
Then there are times when you can peek
Outside of your mind, and have your life become defined.
The valleys of the mind is a complex thing
But with each turn a memory it brings.
When you take a vacation from the
Stresses of the times, it’s because
You’ve had it in your mind
poem by Louis Rams
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Travelling down memory lane
Traveling down memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Traveling down memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Traveling down memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Traveling down memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Traveling down memory lane
is love & pain, fun with friends.
Traveling down memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Traveling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Traveling down memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
poem by Ralph Acosta
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Your Memory
YOUR MEMORY
Your memory,
comes like a floating cloud,
no one knows,
from where it comes,
and from where it goes
your memory comes,
like a sweet fragrance,
your memory comes,
from distant hills,
like a flowing river
and where it goes
poem by Dr. Ram Sharma
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Sometimes An Old Memory Gets In My Eye
Like someone drowning I reach for a straw
Grasping for love where there's no love at all
Slowly I'm sinking as time drags by and sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
I struggle for strenght to face the dawn
And I'm freezing to death without you to keep me warm
I hold an arm full of nothing close to my side
And sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
Sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
And when it's ours it's hard to keep my eyes dry
Don't think you see tears for I never cry
But sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
Yes sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient at others, so bewildered and so weak and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control We are, to be sure, a miracle every way but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invite me to your memory
Invite me to your memory,
I wish to know you.
Let the wind comfort,
let me be your comfort.
Let me into your memory,
I wish to feel you.
I feel like nothing but a memory in your mind.
The look you gave me while passing, still stays with me.
Invite me to your memory so i can see myself.
i am nothing but a memory.
Some day i will be who you will see.
Say again for me,
and you will see.
I am nothing but a memory.
poem by Ricardo Flores
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
Poet: Spandan Bhattacharyya
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Strolling down memory lane
Strolling down memory lane
Where the colors begin to fade.
Strolling down memory lane
Is where I want you to come along.
Strolling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind.
Strolling down memory lane
I won’t be afraid.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not lacking in color.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not a big bummer.
Strolling down memory lane
Not a storm in sight
Strolling down memory lane
is joy without bite.
A memory that I have created in my mind,
Stands the test of time.
Memories are like dream, a reflection of the past.
My memories can kiss my…
Ask me no questions I will tell you no lies.
poem by Taran Burke
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If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.
Jane Austen in Mansfield Park
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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