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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The amount of information that can be stored by the ultimate laptop, 10 to the 31st bits, is much higher than the 10 to the 10th bits stored on current laptops.
quote by Seth Lloyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Head
Revolves across the world
As aspinning word
In its orbit
With adiscovery at large
Like around about
Until it completes
All its seasons of the year
Odd ideas are stored
with aremarkable storeroom,
The computer of my focus
Which focuses ahead
like allay of lights
glaring bright
Odd brain waves are stored
In aliving room
Which stimulates
aremembrance
Oh! That doleful day,
That great joy
Of my birth day
move of the year!
Mmm...aslight laugh
penetrates in a strange
and amusing way
re-stored in my head
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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The spun one is not the cotton.
What I speak and write
From what I heard and stored
And from what I read and stored.
Are like the spun one from the cotton
05.07.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Feelings Can Do
Feelings can trigger fear or joy
They come about when perceptions
enter my neural system
And are linked to data stored there.
The sight of a beautiful flower or sunset
triggers previous feelings of joy
I have stored in my neural system
concerning the flower or sunset.
A sight or sound of an explosion
triggers previous feelings of fear
that I had when these were perceived
in my past and stored in my neural system.
It is important to take time
to evaluate the current feelings
we have before acting on them
Otherwise they will link to past data
and the strength of them will be
multiplied from past experiences.
I can savour this flower or this sunset
and appreciate it before it is consigned
automatically to my joy database
Thus consciously opening a sub directory that is
new and deeper.
I can look at where my feelings
of fear are coming from and
notice it was a car backfiring or
someone just popped a balloon.
In doing this I no longer add
to my database of fear but open
up a new directory for other sounds
that do not have the deeper fear,
associate with them.
poem by Mary Mc Creath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.
quote by Lionel Hampton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reality (Naani 25 syllables)
The heart is the storage house
Of deepest thoughts, feelings
The eyes mirror them
But the lips open the gates.
'The good man brings out good things out of the good stored up in his heart; the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart, the mouth speaks.'
Luke 6: 45
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Undiscovered Poetry!
Stored in the future, not yet born,
Are poems still to write,
To grant hope to the hearts forlorn
That seek some new insight.
And none can force themes to exist
Until Fate takes a hand,
Be patient, yes, but still persist
For time to understand...
That mind of yours is something else,
Computing all the while,
So listen out for warning bells,
Then start your stanza style.
Some phrase will trigger in your mind!
You must know what I mean!
A phrase that makes you so inclined
That now you're really keen...
That pen and paper idling there,
Have purpose just like you!
For suddenly you're made aware
Exactly what to do!
The undiscovered poetry
Has chosen you once more,
With either joy or urgency
It hopes you won't ignore!
The revelation reaches out!
It wraps around your brain!
It cuddles close so there's no doubt!
Who knows what you will gain?
It could be solemn, mystical,
Prophetic or profound...
It could be quite adorable,
In fact, it might astound!
The rhymes may bounce across the page
Like drunken kangeroos!
Or settle down at centre stage
With formal points of views!
Who knows? You could get published soon
In some anthology!
If so, I guess it's time to swoon,
You've better luck than me!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Our Dreaming Mind
Our sweet dreams
are built on love;
our saddest ones
are of when love dies.
Each day we build up ourselves
to face a better tomorrow.
We dream of things
we want to happen.
On waking up, we wish them to,
but our dreams are only facts,
we have stored up everyday,
and while we are asleep, our mind stores them away.
At times we live in a world of make believe,
where fantasy and hope intertwine,
to make a sort of reality
in our dreaming mind.
26 May 2007
poem by David Harris
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I Have Faith In Love
For a while I didn't believe in anything
Until I was forced to see the world anew
The I found all my faith stored beneath the sink
And I began to believe in you
I can see some reason now
I can find some sense in the life I lead
When I'm looking at your smile
I realize exactly why I breathe
Now I don't invest much time in religious s**t
And I don't just give out my trust
But I do believe in the power of love
And I do believe in us
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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4. Put Safely Away
Where has my wife put the car keys
I left at the side of my bed
She whisked them away in my sleeping
To put away safely she said
Stored away safely from burglars
Should one maybe call in the night
Hidden where no one could find them
Covered up well out of sight
She’s never been one for remembering
Things seem to slip right from her mind
Then turn up a year or two later
In places that no one could find
Time slips by fast in an like an instant
The summer’s sun turns into frost
She still stores away things for safety
But the car keys are listed as lost
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write In Lead Part 2
You see I write in lead
cause having poetry impact my life
Everyday is empowering
Can't complete a thought 'cause
Before I can access feelings stored inside
My mind is weaving another strand of meaning and context
'Cause Poetry's deciphered my semantic properties
Unraveling down to the morphological units
Unlacing more of me
And that I don't need a pen
To bleed thoughts of truth
Let me know cause I don't understand
Can't put into concrete thoughts
My grasp of linguistics no longer suffice
To decode the relationship between
Mind and hand
pen and poet
Carefully marking down gibberish
Only understood by the two
I guess that's how it works
Some things have no outside reason to stand
But the only one that comes from within
An I write in lead cause
I can't get out the right pattern of words
I keep erasing
Always in search of a better way
To state how it is that I
am processing poetry
I don't want to use pen
cause fact of the matter is poetry
Shakes the profound core
My factory of thoughts
Engraved permanently in paper
Leaves no space to illustrate
How poetry pushes me to the edge of language
And then I realize
The edge is more like an extending bridge of vocabulary
I can continue building letters
Making meaning
There's no saying
Where interpretation will stop
That is what
poetry is
Making my hand ache
but the thought of not scribing
Leaves less space
For our bridge to extend
Connect To find a better way
to spill my insides out
Poetry's my speech therapy
Cause the more I interpret poetry's word
the more I record how its being comes forth
tough and registers in a soft key
Through syllables
The more clearly I see
through the lens I read
The world and my synthesis
is me
I want to take all of poetry in
So it lives endlessly in meaning
If the path of our voices crosses only momentarily
I'd like for poetry to still live through my expression
Aiding the love affair of
Mind hand and heart
poem by Samantha Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sound Familiar? for Bill Smith
I dreamt I wrote but I had not.
My pad was empty when I woke,
the poem was gone. I had forgot
but in my head a small voice spoke.
Don’t try so hard you won’t succeed
though it’s recorded in your mind.
It will return at its own speed.
There is no way that you can find.
The key with which you gain access.
It simply doesn’t work that way.
You brain needs some time to process
The information stored awa.
I got on with my daily chores
switched my mind to here and now
I knew this was the only course
that my sub conscious would allow.
My chores all done a coffee break
seemed like a good idea to me.
I sat relaxed just half awake.
The floodgates opened suddenly.
My pad and pen were close to hand
I always keep them close to me.
A habit you will understand
if you too write some poetry.
The words flowed freely from my pen
I did not need to think, just write.
I had recalled the words again
and writ them down in black and white.
It doesn’t always work that way
some poems are lost beyond recall.
Never to see the light of day.
I’m glad to say that’s some not all.
6-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Answer To Stanzas Addressed To Lady Hesketh By Miss Catharine Fanshawe, In Returning A Poem
To be remembered thus is fame,
And in the first degree;
And did the few like her the same,
The press might sleep for me.
So Homer, in the memory stored
Of many a Grecian belle,
Was once preserved -- a richer hoard,
But never lodged so well.
poem by William Cowper
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Hidden Passion
Hidden Passion,
stored locked away the thought of passion forgotten,
yet, lingering in distance air passages.
How does one recapture these floating
Ever so soft clouds of passion
to be able to put back these whispering breezes of desire?
If only it could be stored in a bottle
to be later mixed with an enticing fragrance
that is activated by gentle slow embraces of love-making
and soft touching one to the other
this scent that refills the air
getting stronger with each moment
as the passion in the both of you heats up!
Written by Rick Defalco
Copyright ©2003 Pen Name : Dream walker.
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poem by Dream Walker
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Tears of Memory
Descried the mum who
blazed my mind fifty years back.
The stored memory
flowed down from our eyes sparkled once.
Smiled, shook hands but be silent!
-------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Entwood Outpost
Strange impressions touch hidden chord.
The signals, too strong to be ignored,
Catalyse adrenalin outpoured.
Energy pulses through blood, stored
No more. At full flood, sprit, awed,
Expectant awaits answers. Cord
Returns umbilically toward
Innate memories that neurons hoard
Encapsulated. Now, reexplored,
Nature unlocks a secret record.
Ghost timber towers over stream. Sward
Echoes forgotten past, though fountain’s ford
Rides no more the current to afford
Easy entry into phantom forest.
I wonder, pausing, still may find no rest…
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Turmoil
There are days when my head feels like a carousel,
Spinning around so fast with memories and thoughts.
Constantly thinking, it’s forever on the go,
Like a calculator that’s adding up the noughts.
No stopping this onslaught, rotating at full pelt,
Ease will not come to me, however hard I try.
There is no switch to eliminate all these facts,
And so I‘ve this turmoil I need to pacify.
Oh, how I wish that a pure calmness would descend,
Clearing away the debris, things I shouldn‘t hoard, ,
Leaving a peaceful mind so silent and subdued,
One I can fill with dreams that so need to be stored.
Stillness is something we don’t often get to know,
A lightening of the heart, the brain’s now at rest,
Such a clearness to ones outlook, fresh, free and new,
A clean welcomed slate, and my ordered life is blessed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Understanding the mind of a young woman
You cannot understand the mind of a young woman
Its like a religion
Facts and myths are told
Always beyond comprehension
You will figure out the facts
Small, little facts
Through the years of being together
Yet when you gather
Will your fellow man
(O so much better!)
Every single fact you tell is different from another
A man will tell a fact of a woman,
another man will say it is not true
And tell them his own facts
In which another argument will pursue
I shall explain more simply
Why it is pointless to understand the mind of a young woman
Because all women are different!
Men have the same mind
Women are individuals
She has her own feelings, experiences-
Secrets…
The mind of women is not for men to know
Because it is ours alone
Only women possess this gift
Or curse some may call it
To understand the mind of a woman
You must be one of our own
So if you wish to be one of our own
You may ask us, the secrets of a woman
If not
Don’t even try
poem by Fidelis Patronus
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Of Ants and Life
…guess me correct
of ants and life they connect
causing a traffic jam on their trails I cannot forget
of ants as they swam from tree barks to get
a source of existence cannot let
the ants in drought to starve
for food is what they have once collected
and stored;
that which none has never rejected
nor objected
of ants and life
the futuristic species
that know when to pick up the pieces
of anything,
and the guard ants making sure nothing misses
from whence it were piled and stored
of ants and life ‘am never bored
as I observed how they nod
in respect and honor on board
as they pass each other a hustle they accord
of ants and life as they seek to conform
to a life in all its form
if ants can manage their own
why can’t we not of our own?
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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