Prayer For Elizabeth
In the morning
of my memory
you bake
apple pies.
And grow very tired
and sit very still
and sit very silent
as the camera
undresses reality
leaves you
alone
sculpted sunlight
naked as a
lonely as a
photograph.
In the evening
of my memory
the touch of
your hand asks:
'Donall? '
The cradle of my arm
answers:
'Yes, Elizabeth? '
And although nothing is
said:
the fire's glow
nods & knows
the quiet secrets
we share
between us.
In the night
time of my memory
now when darkness
sees you
(again a little girl)
hear you tell
how you thought
every woman
dressed in black
on the white ribbons
of distant roads
was your Mammy
walking towards you
though she had gone
and never come back
(the grownups mentioned Heaven)
from the Spring sunlight
and the white white clothes
drying on the currant bushes
(her heart stopped its beating
your heart skipped a beat)
and the rope fell from
your hand
and the game was left
unplayed
and everyone forgot about
the white white clothes
and...they rotted on
the currant bushes.
Now in the night
time of my memory
when I long to touch
your hand
(and my heart
misses you)
and the fire smiles
upon my face
and the shadows
fall upon
the empty chair
then thought
becomes you
and you
become a memory
and your memory
becomes my prayer.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Related quotes
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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Footprints
Its beautiful outside, an old hand gathers wood,
Can he see me sitting here? his mind is somewhere else.
His friend have flown away, hes left out in the cold.
He wont sit by my fire, he says he likes it in the snow.
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow.
Its getting dark outside, the old hands going home,
Has he someone waiting there? or is he living on his own?
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow...
White blanket, hiding the traces of tears she didnt see,
Oh white blanket covers the memory
Of all that used to be. all that used to be.
But his heart keeps aching in the same old way,
He cant help feeling that she might come back someday.
Its beautiful outside, a magpie looks for food.
The old hand throws a crumb,
Do you think hes found a friend?
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow...
White blanket, hiding the traces of paths he didnt take
Oh white blanket covers the memory
Of moves he didnt make
Oh white blanket, hiding the traces of tears she didnt see
Snow white blanket simply covers the memory
Of all that used to be.
But his heart keeps aching in the same old way
He cant help feeling that she might come back someday.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Clothes Have No Memories (for Doreen)
Your most prized dress
must confess
that it
cannot
remember
the swell of your breast
the rise & fall of your breathing.
Clothes have no memory.
It is Winter now and your summer
frock has totally forgot
the sheer sunny shockingness of being
(underneath it all)
absolutely knickerless.
Kisses like butterflies
alight high (high)
on your inner thigh (thigh) !
Clothes have no memory.
Your bra
unhooked & unhinged
cannot really recall
the thrill of it all
as my hands caresss
create your breasts.
Clothes have no memory.
Clothes have no memory
...but I do.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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The First Jasmines
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with
these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the
darkness of midnight;
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the
lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines
that I held in my hands when I was a child.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with
merrymakers on festival nights.
On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven
by the hand of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh
jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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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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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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Memory
Moonlight,
In the middle of a cold night,
All alone in silence,
Brings back memory,
Of the happy days with you.
Starlight,
seemed so distant in the night sky,
But each one of them,
are my many happy memory of you,
That warms up my cold heart.
Twilight,
It appeared after a dark night,
And so is the bright sunlight and busy day,
No matter how hard I try to run away,
When silent nights returned,
Memory will visit again and again.
poem by Desert Life
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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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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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Total Blackout!
the journey is ending
the head is the first to
signal to me that all
would soon be over
this hair has turned from
black to grey to white
as fast as the memory
is greying into nothingness
they turn white totally white
as sheets of my memory are
but oh god, what a contrast
it would soon be - a total backout!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Haunted By Your Memory
You pushed me aside
a long time ago
but you didn’t account
that your memory would grow.
Now you’re a face in every crowd that I see.
You are everywhere just to haunt me.
How long must I go on
keep remembering you?
Will my mind ever let you go
or will you always be
the ghost in my memory
that will never let me be.
My heart belongs to another,
but your image will not let me be.
I am like a prisoner
who can never get free
from being a slave
to your memory.
You are a face in a crowd
wherever I go.
I am haunted by you
and what will never be.
I am haunted day and night
by your memory.
poem by David Harris
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Art of Memory
Because the happiness, because the irony
Because the importance, because it is funny
Because the promise, because the faith
Memory is remembered
Whether daily, whether eventful
Whether beautiful, whether sad
Whether planned, whether accidental
Memory is made everyday
Because the time, because the nature
Because the trauma, because the secret
Because the plan, because the fear
Memory is forgotten
For the shame of dignity, for the hunger of power
In white lies, in written history
By erasing some fact, by adding impact
Memory is manipulated
By the flash of look, by the said word
By the thing, by the thought
By the shocking impact, by unconscious dream
Memory is triggered again
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Sand Writing
In the sand I wrote your name
on a bright and sunny morn.
And in the writing came the thrill
and in my hand was born
the memory of your hand in mine
and how that touch was you.
You who've never seen your name
written on sand so white
will understand as you look at it
that to me it's a wondrous sight.
Soon the tide will rise and flow
over your name my dear.
And the grains of sand will bubble
and your name will disappear.
But the memory of how my hand did feel
as I wrote your name that day
will linger for me forever
and never go away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Dead Memory
Your memory no longer lingers through my life.
You were there once and now your gone.
Your memory has died like a rose when it is cut from the rest of the world.
Your torns no longer cut my heart.
My voice no longer whispers you name,
I no longer look for you in other people in other faces.
I no longer dream of you or wish that I see you once again.
My heart no longer cries or bleeds for you, not no more.
You no longer haunt my dreams or my memories.
I finally found someone that keeps me warm at night,
I finally found someone who has helped me erase your memory.
I no longer fall and stumble but I now walk tall.
Your memory was a weight that I carried through out time
that now I am free.
I can say that I no longer love you, for you are a dead memory
poem by Elizabeth Gaytan
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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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Absences
It's snowing this afternoon and there are no flowers.
There is only this sound of falling, quiet and remote,
Like the memory of scales descending the white keys
Of a childhood piano--outside the window, palms!
And the heavy head of the cereus, inclining,
Soon to let down its white or yellow-white.
Now, only these poor snow-flowers in a heap,
Like the memory of a white dress cast down . . .
So much has fallen.
&n bsp; &nb sp; & nbsp; And I, who have listened for a step
All afternoon, hear it now, but already falling away,
Already in memory. And the terrible scales descending
On the silent piano; the snow; and the absent flowers abounding.
poem by Donald Justice
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Read 'em And Weep
Midnight, not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory, she is smiling alone
In the lamplight, the withered leaves, collected my fee
And the wind begins to moan
Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days, it was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life, and I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory, too
And a new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smoky days, the stale cold smell of morning
The street lamp dies, another night is over, another day is dawning
Touch me, it's so easy to leave me, all alone with the memory of my day in the sun
If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is
Look a new day, has begun
Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days, it was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Another Empty Memory
Days we woke up together
and I held onto your hand
two lovers lying in the warm summer sand
with the smell of a passing rain in the air
thinking about the times of forever
that we would always share
And all those nights we sat outside
by the glimmering of a open fire
and would talk about our plan
in you I would always confide
my every thought of my only desire
But now all I seem to see
is just another empty memory
of everything that use to be
wondering about what we have become
A smile upon your face
a soul never lost out of place
shining like the morning sun
with moonbeams in your long brown hair
you would walk in harmony
always feeling free
was a time you saw everything in me
But now all you seem to see
is just another empty memory
of everything that use to be
wondering about what we have become
So you hide behind your tears
trying to forget those lonely years
lost inside your doubt and fears
watching it all come undone
while the time only slowly disappears
Still we both keep moving on
though our dreams are all gone
like words from some forgotten song
knowing beside each other
is where we both belong
But now all we seem to see
just another empty memory
of everything that use to be
wondering about what we have become
(spiritwind-2010)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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