Related quotes: The true beloveds of this...

The true beloveds of this world are in their lover's eyes lilacs opening, ship lights, school bells, a landscape, remembered conversations, friends, a child's Sunday, lost voices, one's favorite suit, autumn and all seasons, memory, yes, it being the earth and water of existence, memory.

quote by Truman Capote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Favorite Memory

The first time we met is a favorite memory of mine
They say time changes all it pertains to
But your memory is stronger then time

I guess everything does change except
What you choose to recall
There's a million good day dreams to dream on

But baby your my favorite memory of all
Like the night we first got together on our bench
And held each other tight

Like the winter we spent together
Helping each other and closer then ever

And I remember our special times together
And our walks and our lost time together
It was always you who made the whole time a ball

It was you who called me just to hear my voice
Theres a million good times
I could dwell on

But baby you are my favorite memory of all
and you'll always be my favorite memory.

poem by connie Engstrom
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The First Grey Hair

NO, let it stay. It speaks but truth:
My Autumn's day is dawning.
The dream is past; sweet dream of youth.
Hair, I accept thy warning.
With mournful thought, my spirit swells,
At the wild chime of memory bells.

Why will we in the present time,
Of by-gone days be dreaming?
Say, why throughout the storm sublime,
Is lightning ever gleaming?
Ah! there is naught on earth that quells
The chiming of sad memory bells.

Hope, garlands fair of future bliss,
With Fancy's pearls is weaving;
Alas! we find in world like this,
That Hope too is deceiving,
As on the past, our full heart dwells,
At your sad chiming, memory bells.

In youth all Earth was passing bright,
And life with joy was teeming —
But hidden in each flower was blight,
And happiness was seeming.
Yet charm me with your mystic spells —
With your sweet chiming, memory bells.

Why speak ye of the cruel wrong,
That I am ever grieving?
I would forget, forgive, be strong,
With faith in Christ, believing.
But oh! the strain triumphant knells —
Cease, cease your clashing, memory bells.

Avaunt, dark image of despair!
Why dost thou still go raving?
I would to Lethe's streams repair,
And drown thy taunts in laving.
Alas! can nothing still thy yells?
Cease, cease your clashing, memory bells.

Now mournful is the solemn strain,
And sadly I am weeping.
For those I love in battle slain,
Who all unknown are sleeping,
Like murmuring of ocean shells,
Swells your sad requiem, memory bells.

Now much loved voices in their glee
Their joyous shouts are sending;
And the sweet chorus, light and free,
Of many a song is blending,
Yet bitter tear-drops, sad fare-wells,
Melt in your chiming, memory bells.

Yet I would fain recall the past,
The bright celestial gleaming,
Which my first love around me cast,
Too sweet to be but dreaming.
Like flowing water, in lone dells,
Is your sweet chiming, memory bells.

Yes, silver hair, rest thee in peace,
I know that life is waning,
That soon will all my troubles cease,
And I, the goal attaining,
Will list the joy your music tells,
And love your chiming, memory bells.

poem by Mary Eliza Perine Tucker Lambert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Three Bells

BENEATH the low-hung night cloud
That raked her splintering mast
The good ship settled slowly,
The cruel leak gained fast.

Over the awful ocean
Her signal guns pealed out.
Dear God! was that Thy answer
From the horror round about?

A voice came down the wild wind,
'Ho! ship ahoy!' its cry
'Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow
Shall lay till daylight by!'

Hour after hour crept slowly,
Yet on the heaving swells
Tossed up and down the ship-lights,
The lights of the Three Bells!

And ship to ship made signals,
Man answered back to man,
While oft, to cheer and hearten,
The Three Bells nearer ran;

And the captain from her taffrail
Sent down his hopeful cry
'Take heart! Hold on!' he shouted;
'The Three Bells shall lay by!'

All night across the waters
The tossing lights shone clear;
All night from reeling taffrail
The Three Bells sent her cheer.

And when the dreary watches
Of storm and darkness passed,
Just as the wreck lurched under,
All souls were saved at last.

Sail on, Three Bells, forever,
In grateful memory sail!
Ring on, Three Bells of rescue,
Above the wave and gale!

Type of the Love eternal,
Repeat the Master's cry,
As tossing through our darkness
The lights of God draw nigh!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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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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Old Time Christmas

The ol log is burnin'
Yellow and red
Small eyes are fightin'
That ol' sleepy head
Stockin's are filled
While stories of goodwill are told
At the edge of the bed.
It's an old time Christmas
Family and friends 'round the tree
It's an old time Christmas
Like the ones in my memory.
Now the gifts are all open
The kids in the yard
Granddad nods off in a chair
And the smells from the kitchen
Are to fine to mention
And there's peace
On Earth everywhere.
It's an old time Christmas
Family and friends 'round the tree
It's an old time Christmas
Like the ones in my memory.
Church bells ringin'
Choirs singin' everywhere
There's love in the air
It's an old time cristmas
Family and friends 'roubd the tree
It's an old time christmas
Like the ones in my memory.
It's an old time Christmas
Like the ones in my memory...

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.

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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I Am (Unraveled)

i am, become...
i am the fallen tree,
the broken lamp, the axe,
the message never received.
i am the flag draped
over the casket in the silent room.

i am second hand clothes,
and hand-me-down hearts...
i am your grandmother's quilt,
and your son's grave...
i am the song of the whipporwill,
and the porcupine's quill.

i am the child dreaming of a grownup world.
i am the last letter written
by the soldier far from home...
i am your father's pipe,
and your mother's favorite pot...
i am memory and woodgrain,
the fire and the hollow.

i am the smell of Jesus
in the Sunday morning sun...
i am Kentucky whiskey,
and charcoal on the grill.
i am a Chevy, a Ford, a Dodge,
and an old Rambler....

i am a fishing pole,
laying out of school...
i am the sap of America
on the very last pine.

sap, and memory,
i am America unraveled,
i am, become...

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Bells Of The Evening

Bells of the evening, o sing to my love
Tell her I miss her, my own turtledove
The streets of the old town are covered with rain
I think I might never know true love again
Im lost with no road signs to guide me
A slave to my whiskey and dreams
Bells of the evening, o bells that I love
Ive got some feelings I long to be rid of
Im not one to ramble; Im not one to boast
Though I had one lover more lovely than most
She was a country girl born to be free
Who took to the city by chance there to find me
Bells of the evening go pealin
Im down here listenin to you
Bells of the evening, o bells of the sea
Tell her that I love her, that Im lost and so lonely
Bells of the evening, your sweet sunday sound
Reminds me of the redwoods and moss covered ground
So if I should wander on back to the coast
Tell her to remember its her I need the most
Im caught by the minstrels misfortune
Of being forever displaced
Bells of the evening, o bells of the sea
Tell her that I love her; that Im lost Im so lonely

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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I don't often write

I don't often write about the seasons
how the newly budding flowers melt my heart.

I seldom dwell on heat or summer madness,
of how long warm evenings mellow darker thoughts.

Autumnal leaves blow gently over parchment
just like the summer kisses we once shared

and so I dare not speak about the Autumn
for I know that I would cry and that I'm scared.

Winter is so cold and brings the darkness,
within it, misty days and frosty nights,

bringing thoughts of you, my precious lover
and dreams about your sunny face at night.

I don't often write about the seasons
and now I realise why I never do.

It's because with every season comes a memory
and that memory, most often, is of you.

poem by Ruth Walters
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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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A Wonderland

The diamond:

Hidden
In my memory
Are moments of truth
To our past life I am clinging
Oft' in the night wedding bells echo
And angel voices are singing
Sweet is the memory
I relive in my
Dreams

poem by Joyce Hemsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where do I go from here?

The sun was hidden on the autumn seasons
And the wind whistled in their sadness song
The leaves start to fall scattered on the ground
They are like the memories that blew inside my mind
I bended my knees and pick them one by one
Hoping I could picture them in my palm

A long and wading road that I had to walk on
Following the footsteps that I could not be seen
It was vanished by the golden leaf of autumn
Here I am alone sat on a bench of memory lane
I kept wondering why, thinking I was lost and gone
Hoping for tomorrow, I will face the rising sun

Where do I go from here?
I don’t had the eyes to see the shades of green
Everything is like a shadow of gray
I was alone in this journey
I could not be able to see the beauty of spring
Looking for someone to hold my hands

Sometimes I forgot, how life is beautiful
To face the morning comes to inhale them,
I forgot to feel the magic of the sunrise
The wind that touches me every time I shiver
The rain that washes my pain and sorrow
and enjoys every dropp that falls inside my being

Where do I go from here?
I see the lights shining from a distant
I heard voices whisper in my ear
Perhaps, they are the angels that lead me
in this journey within the distant
and search the world, where I belong.

poem by Cheryl Aldea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Commit To Memory

Commit me to memory, like I own you
Like the last of the raindrops in the consequent Summer,
And the foliage anew by Autumn,
Commit me to memory, though I do not own you
For when the darkness and sleaze go astray,
It is never too late to have vied for and pray,
That the remaining hours in one’s life sway
Towards forgetting and not forgetting –
Now what is better, to commit to memory
Or to disregard and go on day by day?
I know this true enough that you’d turn to say,
That certainly, one leaves and one stays,
You are earnest enough to have forged a lie
Contorting a vastly eviscerated sky
Oh, the things we do when we bid good bye,
How thwarting enough to not permit life
In every breath I pledge with strife.
And so I say, I will commit you to memory evermore
Until your ship is moored to my shore –
But then, hope is a loose accolade hanging
Unsteadily by a thread of phase-shifting,
Star blinding, moon kissing and sun quelling –
And so, to commit you to memory under the infinite sky;
With a sigh, the things you make me do when you say good bye

poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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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
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Stary Nights

Nights are made of dreams and stars,
memories that last because you didn't go to the bar.
Smiles make men weak,
and for you its an easy feat.
Simply opening those eyes,
just does things to all of us guys.
A memory given, a memory lost,
but that is only a small cost.
So slumber away safe in your bed, just remember,
someone else has you fresh in their head.

poem by Brandon Chiles
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Lilacs At My Funeral

Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m dead
Lilacs in my coffin
Placed gently by my head

Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m gone
Lilacs to help send me
On my journey home

Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs for my grave
Lilacs instead of roses
Think of the money you will save

1978

www.dakotaraeaustin.com

poem by Dakota Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thy memory

In the desert of my unending gloom,
I feel thy hand on my visage,
The intensity of my pain retreats,
The frangrance of thy being
Lights up, in me,
The spirit of vivacity,
My days are luminious,
My nights are colourful.
I feel the moisture of thy hair
As the rain comes,
I feel thy touch
As the wind blows,
I experience spring
In the autumn of my life,
The flowers of thy memory
Bloom everywhere.
But Ah!
As soon as thy memory departs,
The world becomes dark to me
And my spirit.
I am lost in my business again,
The business of memorizing thee.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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No idea poem

Riding the storm clouds
sliding down lighting bolts
collecting stars like daisies
to scatter them behind
at the sight of a comet

cruel as honesty
tough as water
careless like a child
selfish like a lover

always just out of reach
fading like last nights dream
leaving just the memory
never an explanation riding the storm clouds
sliding down lighting bolts
collecting stars like daisies
to scatter them behind
at the sight of a comet