Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.
quote by Thomas Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Cupboard
Behind the Welsh Dresser,
fine china,
dinner plates
and an old vase
is a cupboard.
It is a place I store
dark secrets,
shame,
hidden love
and
old memories.
Its walls are shelved
where books
turn towards me
so as to hide their titles.
My jewels
are housed in
cardboard boxes
so as to hide
their worth.
and old photo's,
in black and white
hold my
memories
The cupboard door
is white
and the door
has panels.
You can see the
grain of the wood
through the paint
and even though
I paint it
every year,
the grain
shows through.
I've tried to reveal,
to show
and tell
my secrets,
those unmasked
truths
but somehow
I never can.
I will have to
keep the key
and even when I die
my secrets,
they will die with me.
Here is my cupboard,
my life,
my memories.
Only go there
if you dare
for the truth
will pierce your heart,
challenge your beliefs
change you
rearrange you
and
your ideas
of me.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Cupboard
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear?
Mother: The cupboard of red mahogany
With handles shining clear.
Mary: That cupboard, dearest mother,
With shining crystal handles?
There's nought inside but rags and jags
And yellow tallow candles.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother mine?
Mother: That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber,
The silver corners shine.
Mary: There's nothing there inside, mother,
But wool and thread and flax,
And bits of faded silk and velvet
And candles of white wax.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
And this time tell me true.
Mary: White clothes for an unborn baby, mother..
But what's the truth to you?
poem by Robert Graves
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If I Do Invite The Eating Of Leftovers
Leftovers or once tasty treats
If there is anything used,
I would prefer to have near me...
Is a pair of old shoes,
I've taken off my tired feet.
Leftovers or once tasty treats,
I seldom eat.
Even if they happen to be delicious.
And If I do invite the eating of leftovers...
I initiated the cooking and generated the heat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On the tip of your tongue.
You know, you know but can't explain
Just how or why you came to gain.
The facts stored in your memory.
Odd facts stored subconsciously.
For no good reason seemingly.
Stored away haphazardly.
Though ev'ry fact our mind has stored.
It had some reason to record.
A nugget added to the hoard.
A vast accumulation
Of useless information.
We very seldom call upon.
But when we do it's sad but true
We find that we cannot renew.
The direct link that leads us to.
The word or phrase we want to find.
Amongst those hidden in our mind.
The system is not well designed.
We can't recover what we've stored.
Our efforts totally ignored.
Our mind decides it can't afford.
To grant unlimited access.
Although it leaves us free to guess. The reason for such stubbornness.Thursday,12 April 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Cherished moments
I have cherished memories in my heart
They serve as buried treasure and shall never part
As I take inventory in my mind, there's a sweet aromor
I then bundled them up in my arms.
Inside I feel so good, safe from any harm
These are memories of how it use to be,
Not necessarily famous,
Nor necessarily in need,
Just sweet safely stored away
are these awesome thoughts. you see
About loveones and how it use to be
I really love those times
Wonderful precious memories,
They are oh so sweet
They are all on file, labeled as priceless,
Precious treasure, forever with me.
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
Its Moldy Now
[parody of hold me now by the thompson twins]
I had a pizza,
Covered with cheese.
I wrapped it all up in aluminum foil,
Stuck it back in the freeze.
Look at my crust now,
See what I mean.
Its getting all wrinkled,
And my pepperoni is hairy and green.
Ah, cause its moldy now,
It got moldy fast.
How can i
Make leftovers last, make leftovers last?
I was so hungry,
What could I do?
I finished the pizza
And topped it all off with some mystery stew.
Now I feel kinda queasy,
Yeah, yeah, what can I say?
So I called my physician
To wish him that hed make a house call today.
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New house
Stepping onto the hard floor,
no memories to be shared here,
thoughts are neutral no emotion,
the unnerving stench of staleness,
and unlived in state feels so impersonal,
so uncomfortable,
memories piled high in our old home,
and stored like books in my head,
it feels so cold here,
unexplainable feeling of fear,
no aroma of delicious food flowing through the house,
the rooms are not personalised,
just stripped bare,
dust flies through the air,
it can't be called a home yet,
it's just a house with inhabitants,
it can only be called mine,
but i will continue to see our previous house as home,
it'll take getting used to,
it'll take time,
i'll try and make it feel like mine now,
living in the new house.
poem by Emily Summers
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Heartbreak Road
I’m walking down this road called heartbreak,
which leads to a place called despair.
It’s a long and lonely road that I’m travelling
and I’ll find no comfort there.
It’s not a road I ever thought I’d be taking
and it’s not the way I’d choose to go,
but my failure to hold onto my loved one
has left me with self pity and sorrow.
This road has deep holes filled with sadness,
when I stumble, tears form in my eyes.
With loneliness and misery I walk in puddles
from the raindrops from the weeping skies.
My broken dreams and schemes accompany me
even though they weigh heavy on my mind.
Memories, happy and sad hinder my progress,
which makes new dawns so hard to find.
My heart has been emptied and shattered,
and I’ve only heartbreak road to walk.
It’s an endless one-way road of darkness
to which my troubled mind is fraught.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Shut....
there is so much
in the heart
the mind is a swimmer
it is waiting for the
highest dive
the spirit is the light
inside a
refrigerator
the mouth is a closed door
the tongue is
still drunk
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Song: The Road to Nowhere
To travel the road to nowhere.
The soul's dark amazon.
Eternal peace is anywhere,
the mind might set upon.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To know you're really gone.
And when you finally get there,
to find your god is Ron.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
There's something in the dark.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that leaves a lasting mark.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
Old secrets gather dust.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that reeks decay and must.
To travel the road to nowhere.
Reading signposts from beyond.
As self-deceit completes defeat,
a cold ghost light is shone,
on Ron. On Ron.
He learned to sham at his father's knee.
He knew the power of story.
He lived by lies and fantasies,
and dreamed of fame and glory.
So travel the road but beware,
for he drew an arcane map.
His weak and dismal followers,
could see no fatal trap.
But in his inner circle,
his worth would soon reveal.
To those that rail and cavil,
he'd crush beneath his heel.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
The sweetest scent of musk.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
as warm and moist as lust.
To travel the road to nowhere.
It's not the smoothest ride.
To have all faith you must defer,
to a self-referring guide.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To avoid the rush and throng.
Unravel in the space of somewhere,
and sing a specious song.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
It's got an evil breath.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that toys with fear and death.
To travel the road to nowhere.
And wield your magic wand.
A shuffling prisoner of despair,
when fragile hopes abscond.
To travel the road to nowhere.
A funeral dress you don.
All truth is moulded out there,
like a Sci-Fi writer's con.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
You hear it scratch and whine.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
both bedevilled and divine.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To follow a different sun.
To travel the road with due care,
not to end as you begun.
To travel the road to nowhere,
to life's grim denouement.
Be sighted by the cross hairs,
released from earthly bond.
To travel the road to nowhere.
Your face is drawn and wan.
Your self-belief masks hidden grief,
while the thief of time moves on.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Heart, Body And Soul
Minds empty,
souls free,
hearts open,
memories.
Free as a bird,
free as can be,
my soul escapes my empty body.
The mind is now gone,
nothing remains except my memories of a dark nights wake.
An open heart,
an open wound,
forever in need of sympathy.
Memories of a time long ago,
memories have yet to go.
My mind is full,
my soul contained,
my heart is closed for eternity
poem by Andrew Hackett
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Memories
Orbison/dees
In a cold december, memories can melt your heart away
In a warm september, you can still remember yesterday
Even in the darkest night when dreams fade away
When your love is gone, youll never be alone in memories
Memories, while walking through a winter snow, memories, when summer breezes start to blow
When true love is far away it may be yours in memories
Memories, while falling leaves just fill the air, memories, when springtime comes and loves not there
Even when you cry, try not to say goodbye to memories
Golden memories can turn the night into day, teach your heart to smile
And live each day a while in memories
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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Far from creating a new formalism, what these can yield is something far transcending surface values since they not only embody form as beauty, but also form in which intuitions or ideas or conjectures have taken visible substance.
The Cupboard Of Loveliness
The fragrances of yesteryear
So fascinated me
That everything was crystal clear,
As if my destiny!
Collecting perfumes one-by-one,
Became my great desire,
My joie de vivre, my scents of fun,
As seller and as buyer...
Exquisite and ecstatic friends,
As if my second skins.
Companionship that never ends -
They cause my constant grins...
They magnify, they edify,
They sanctify my soul,
They rectify, electrify,
They somehow make me whole...
No wonder, then, I must enthuse,
Promoting such perfumes,
Such that I help my friends to choose
The blessed and best of blooms.
Designer perfumes blow my mind!
Pure bliss and happiness!
They're Heaven-scent and so refined,
God-given loveliness!
Denis Martindale, copyright February 2011.
Peter Sherlock, UK Shopping tv pre-scent-er
Dedicated to Peter Sherlock's ever-so-famous
'The Cupboard of Loveliness' which could just as
easily be called 'The Cupboard of Love Finesse'.
Fragrances stimulate, envigorate and celebrate
all that we sense as being beautiful and sensual.
Our transformation can be such a revelation that
others will want to share. Maybe there should be
a perfume called, ' What's That? ' because that's
what people ask us when they want what we've got!
How many buyers say they're buying perfume for
somebody else, only to sample the perfume and must
keep it all to themselves? Millions, that's how many!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Always Be Mine
Now its the time for me to let you go,
I am done and over it,
But somewhere in my memory,
I have lost in time,
Somewhere in my heart I know you were always been apart of me,
You'll always be mine from the bottom of this broken heart I once called it mine,
You'll always run through this mind I once thought of,
No more holding on to things I can not have,
Somewhere in your heart,
I was once was your girl,
Somewhere in my heart you were my man,
Don't forget about me baby,
Maybe you'll realize I am the girl you need,
In deed I may sound obsessed but you have came into my mind,
You'll always remain in my heart that has torn into two,
You'll always be mine in this memory,
The memories that need to fade,
Fade within these walls,
Baby will you always be mine?
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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I Meet A Lady Called Amina
Accidentally I meet her
She smiles, my heart gets sweeter
We started bawling honey words to ourselves
Alone, I smile, laugh, reflecting while staring at shelves
She sing me a song called Hallelujah
when alone my mind keep playing it ten times over
I became a victim of her magic spell
I stressed, I confused, I can't imagine, how to make my mouth tell
With countless thoughts engulfing my senses
I couldn't think of apeasing ways except to manipulate her defences
I was too foolish to think of manipulations
She called her heart and cancelled our friendly affections
I stand like a statue hating myself
Pleading like a league of mad men beating themself
She couldn't say a word except ''let me be''
I begged continuously, striving to set my heart free
She become dumbed to all my apology
And I become selfish, for helping me, not letting her be
I meet my heart replica
I meet a lady called AMINA
She is the best I have meet
She gives me memories I will never forget
Accidentally, I meet a lady called AMINA
And my heart, convinced she hold his replica
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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