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
Vote! | Copy!