Apertures
Life imposes on us.
Memory superimposes,
layering life’s imprints.
Into an aperture
between life and memory
moves the photographer,
who listens to light,
convenes shadows,
constructs position.
In the dark room,
life and memory wait
while hallucination bathes,
inscribes itself on a
pane of white-space,
coalescing like epiphany
and now rising from the
translating pool, prepared
to confess to eyes.
poem by Hans Ostrom
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Related quotes
Thank You for the Memory
My body tingles as I lay there still feeling your body wrapped around mine
I close my eyes and notice that there is nothing I can do but dream
For you have left me here with nothing but a memory
A memory of what we had what we were
A memory of nothing more at this time nothing to have to look forward to
My heart aches as I open my eyes and turn to see nothing but an empty bed
The scent of you makes me wonder what could have been
It makes me wonder what went so wrong
We had something that could never be replaced and not it has vanished right before my eyes
You think that the memory will be nothing more than a picture
They say “A memory will last a life time”
I say “A memory will only last a life time as long as you can keep it alive inside of your heart”
There is one thing that should be said
Thank You for the memory that will last me a lifetime of joy
~*Tosha*~
poem by Darkness Falls
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Empty becouse of her
As I open my eyes and I cry,
Im all alone in my quit room,
My words are a whisper from the past,
My arms are empty because of her,
Everyone can kiss my but,
My heart is empty and now im starting to feel the tears form upon my cheeks I still wait upon the dead,
So that I can have her kisses,
I wait for her return home so that im no alone,
But 1 thing is that it’s hard loving a memory,
Loving a memory is allot easier than hating a memory,
I live my cousin’s memory with all my heart,
Everyone should know she is why my life has start,
She was and still is a very important girl at least she is in my world
poem by Gary Hicinbothem
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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
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Sweet Memory To Me
You are such a sweet memory to me...
How you showed me how beautiful life can be...
You serve as my sunset in my life...
You made me believe that there will be a brighter tomorrow...
You are like a leaf that is blown away by the wind..
You make feel so free....
You teach me to just let life blow me away whatever i do...
You are like the star that shines in the sky...
You are always there to help me reach my dreams...
You showed me what life can bring...
Now that you are gone
You are just a sweet memory to me..
A memory that can never be replace
A memory that can never be erase...
poem by Karima Puzon
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Without Our Gift Of Memory
What would we be without the power to recall?
Without our gift of memory we'd be little at all
To those who lose their memory confusion is their lot
The faces of friends and family by them even forgot
For the children and kindred of alzheimers sufferers life must be very sad
The memory loss of a sibling, uncle, aunty, mum or dad
Though 'tis a natural instinct for us to cling to life's breath
In a choice between death and loss of memory I think I would choose death
I am a lucky fellow my gift of memory I retain
And I hope till my last breath of life that with me it will remain
To the great gift of memory I will gladly drink a toast
In that sense I am lucky far luckier than most
Life would not be worth much without it the great gift of memory
I am sure at what I say here that most with me would agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Few Two Liners
I’ve known reception
I’ve seen rejection
I’ve known how life gets reduced to a memory
I’ve seen how memory fades
I’ve seen how life takes off
I’ve known how life slumps
I’ve seen how one clings to life
I’ve known how life passes
I’ve known how knotty time is
I’ve seen comfort time brings
I've seen how life flows
I've known how it floods
I've seen clear light
I've known hazy veils in the way
I’ve seen the first cry
I’ve known the last breath
05 Apr 2011
07.20hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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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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An Unfound Thought
Your thought is like sitting on a standing nail
as if my life is made all to fail
your memory is a curse in disguise
making me forget how much i am wise
your thoughts is like sitting on the edge
of a cliff that has no space for a wedge
your memory is linking my life with the hair
of the shaven heads of a gods fair
your every thought is like a rotten fruit
that lost its value and been a dude
your memory is a sweet revenge
of my vulnerable days that stand in adage
You were my soul, my sas, my special something
but now and ever you are just a bad memory and nothing...
poem by Umasree Raghunath
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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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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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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
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Just A Memory
Here you are again
Back in my memory
You said you didn't love me anymore
And if the love we shared
Is just a memory, then
Why are you still here?
Haunting my memory,
Invading my soul
Since our love is gone
And my life is shattered
I guess you're just a memory.
poem by Rachelle Sowders
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Memory Of Me As A Poet,
memory of me as a poet,
My doleful soul need's the great memory of me as a poet,
The pure memory taught me of the spontaneous event's of life,
How creation gave me authority to reveal such a strong poetic verse,
I recited the poem in my mind only to realise the great motor memory,
But pure memory revealed all my past writing,
I can relive my past only by the memory of the great history,
Global memory took my mind to think of the great poet.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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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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Honesty Of The Souls
Lost in memory of time
Poor hearts at the corners of life
There they left all alone
No one can feel their pain inside
Lost in memory of time
The life for them used to be always but always lost desires
Once upon the time they had the opportunity to describe
What they want in life
One day everything was just a breath away
So easy that if just they could extend their hands
They would touch their heart desires
But the spirit who's pride is precious then anything else in this life always refused to be a beggar
They stood there all alone
They preferred to be just a memory in sprite of time
Because they've had noble and honest thoughts.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Catching The Night
It’s a low lingering moan persisting through the night outside these walls
An ode to the memory of bones – the mortal lease on life – tuned to the limitless time.
It moves its chorus through the air just now, chilling and thrilling, shaking the moon drenched limb,
Swaying the grass with graceful hum and then falling with the quiet of the dark.
It’s the song of a lonely shadow in the trees churning just in sight
Sweeping and crooning just inside the dim light
Calling for eyes that can see its ballad sifting down through the leaves
And it’s heard and it’s seen as it drones its willow branch dream.
There it has been, lofty and endless as the wind,
Its eerie eyes cast down, barely catching the dim light
Its sounds speaking its loss without end,
That low lingering moan traversing through the night
Telling the story of time, the lost friend,
And giving heart to the memory of life
Never Can Forget That Memory
Deep in the darkest
Part of my head
There is a memory
Of how I saw you dead
It sits there
Alone
In the shadows of depth
A memory of you
That I have kept
It wants to come out
Of this dark scary place
But it is a memory
I could never erase
It sits there
Alone through day and night
listening to everything
I hear
And say
I want it to leave
And never come back
To leave me alone
The feeling if sadness
To go away
So that I can
Once again
See
The light of day
poem by Broken Hearts
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White And Black
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever showed him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life was a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Black And White
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever shown him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life became a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Loss of memory
I thank the loss of my memory
Of those days when I had not a friend
I am thankful to the memory
Of those great moments when we are together
I thank the loss of my memory
Of those seconds prior to your reasonableness
I am thankful to the memory
Of the great dimple when you smile
I thank the loss of my memory
Prior to the reduction of your anger
I am thankful to the memory
Of those great sharing moments of your success
I thank the loss of my memory
For the reasons of our arguments
I am thankful to the greatest
Moments of my life with you.
poem by Hariharans Sundaram
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